‘School for Girls’ by Ariane Lessard (Review)

I can’t say I particularly like Hallowe’en.  Quite apart from the sugar-fuelled excesses of commercialisation that have crept into the event since I was young, it’s hard to take it all seriously when you see kids dressed up as ghosts and skeletons on a sunny spring evening here in Melbourne.  Still, I can imagine that the atmosphere is rather different in the northern hemisphere, so if you’re looking for some slightly sinister reading for this time of year, my latest review looks at the perfect book, a short, strange work where you’re never quite sure what’s going on, or who’s still around.  Let’s head off to Canada, where we’ll hear some stories about school days that are definitely a little more chilling than most…

*****
QC Fiction pride themselves on doing things differently, and their latest release, Ariane Lessard’s School for Girls (translated by Frances Pope, review copy courtesy of the publisher), certainly backs up that claim.  The book takes us to a small boarding school for girls, a set of buildings located somewhere in the middle of a large forest:

The school stays wrapped in its blanket for nearly six months every year, on account of its northerly position.  You might picture it as a dot in the middle of the forest, accessible via a gravel path along which horses and carts can travel in the summer.
p.59 (QC Fiction, 2022)

The remote location brings a particular issue with it.  Once the snows arrive each winter, everyone at the school, students and teachers alike, are stranded there for a number of months, unable to leave until the path is clear.

So, we have a creepy location, old buildings, lots of snow and a number of teenage girls thrown together in the middle of nowhere – it’s little wonder that things get a little tense, stressed even.  As we’re shown the shed outside, the eerie basement and the dark forest, there’s a sense that there’s something in the air, just waiting for backs to be turned.  And as for the students themselves…

School for Girls is a wonderful little piece, a book of feelings and moods (and perhaps not quite as much of a psycho thriller as I made it sound above!).  Lessard creates an atmosphere of darkness, taking us through the winter in the company of those ‘trapped’ in the school, but if you’re expecting a traditional novel, you’ll be surprised.  The novel(la) is told in short sections, most less than a page in length, and each is narrated in the first person by one of the girls.  Their confessions tell us of their feelings, their daily lives and what’s going on around them in the school, with the tone gradually becoming bleaker as winter sets in.

While it can be confusing to start with given the number of different voices, we gradually settle in and begin to recognise the different personalities of the dozen or so girls given a voice.  There’s Ariandre, a slightly aggressive and private writer, and Corinne, who resents her sex, the reason for her being sent to the school in the first place.  Others, like Catherine, keep more to themselves, watching their fellow students from a slight distance, not wanting to get involved.

Part of the beauty of the book is Lessard’s (and Pope’s) wonderful work in distinguishing between the many voices.  Some are lyrical, others simply flow; a couple are rather matter-of-fact, while at least one is merely childish.  Annette’s voice, for example, is expressed using a lack of punctuation in its stream-of-consciousness ramblings.  By contrast, Laure is represented by short, strange bursts of poetry:

we’re afraid of her yes because of the paving
                                                       stones hee hee

she spends the fall replacing them yes

so we won’t find out

that’s where they sleep

damedread (p.40)

It’s all nicely done, and it won’t take long for you to distinguish the voices that are allowed to speak frequently.

As you may have noticed from Laure’s strange little text, there’s definitely something amiss at the school.  I can’t be the only one wondering who exactly these sleepers are that she mentions, and that’s just one of many thought-provoking comments.  There’s many a secret hidden within the premises of the school, with girls and teachers roaming around, inside and out, as well as hints of a sinister past:

Jacinthe doesn’t paint anymore, not now that her sister Louise is with the last girls.  Four winters ago, it was. (p.35)

This is not the only mention of ‘the last girls’ – there’s a distinct sense they’re still here, especially down in the basement…

As intriguing as these hints of the supernatural are, though, the book is often more concerned with the behaviour of girls and young women thrust together.  Several of the voices allude to, or openly discuss, relationships both amicable and sexual, even if others show the opposite, with the speaker trying to find a quiet spot away from the others.  There’s also mention of shivering in the winter cold and discussing the daily meals…

…yet for every mention of ordinary life, there’s also something that’s not quite right, again making us think that the school has more secrets to reveal.  I’ll tell you now that School for Girls, more akin to poetry than prose in many ways, is not a book with clear answers and revelations (and it won’t offer up its secrets lightly), but it’s a joy to read all the same.  It makes for another excellent QC offering, and a fitting book to crack open on one of those cold northern nights – just don’t read it too close to bedtime.