All Girls by Emily Layden: A review

The "all girls" of the title refers to an all-girls boarding school in northwest Connecticut. The action takes place in the 2015-16 academic year which is chiefly important because it is prior to the #MeToo movement. The main character in the book is the school itself, called Atwater. It is a beautiful campus and the school is steeped in tradition and has high academic standards. It's the kind of a place where the rich and famous send their daughters and it's the kind of place that obsessively guards its unsavory secrets. The unsavory secret it was guarding in 2015-16 was a sexual assault lawsuit from an alumna who was raped by a teacher 20 years before. Apparently, the teacher is still working at the school. Families driving to the school to deliver their daughters on move-in day are greeted by signs along the roads that say "A Rapist Works Here."

The school manages to get the signs removed fairly quickly, but the local newspaper gets the story and publishes an article about it. The genie is out of the bottle. Strangely it seems to me, this does not appear to give any parents second thoughts about the school, or at least they are not a part of this narrative. Their daughters are left to deal with the fallout of the allegations as they experience all the hustle and bustle of boarding school life.

The story of life at the school was confusing and hard to follow for me. That was mostly down to the fact that the narrative is told from the points of view of nine - count 'em, nine! - different girls. There is just too much information here about all the girls and about various school personnel. It's been ten days since I finished reading this book and, honestly, I could not now tell you the name of any of those nine girls or differentiate any of their backstories. They are all just a blur to me. In my opinion, the author (for whom this was her first novel) would have done better to tell the story from the point of view of only one or two of the girls with the others as secondary characters. It certainly would have made the story easier to follow.

Where the author truly excelled was in the depiction of day-to-day life at the boarding school. She believably gives us the relationships that form among these high school girls as they deal with their own problems and anxieties. And always in the background are the questions about the scandal facing the school. Are the complainant's charges true? If so, who is that rapist? Why did the school cover it all up and never deal with it? The various responses of the girls also are rendered believably. Some of them blame the victim or believe she is lying. Others may recognize the wrongdoing but they don't know how to respond to it. Again, it is important to remember that this is pre-#MeToo and these girls are products of their upbringing and basically have no tools to recognize how they are being manipulated and possibly betrayed. Their school's lack of transparency leaves them ambivalent and confused.

I experienced a slow burn of outrage in reading this book. The school's lack of accountability is truly infuriating and the reader wishes for just one character with the courage to stand up and say, "This is wrong!" In fact, the school newspaper, to its credit, does prepare an issue addressing the rape allegation, but, predictably, the school administration will not allow it to be published. The cover-up reigns. If the writer were setting the story in today's world, she would likely write it quite differently. At least one likes to think so.

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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