Jean Brodie must be among the most memorable characters in literature. I don’t think that’s only due to her portrayal in the popular 1969 movie that won Maggie Smith an Academy Award. Brodie on the page is at least as mesmerizing: a combination of vigorous, rebellious, dedicated schoolteacher, art lover and self-assured fascist.
When we first meet her in 1936, Brodie grabs the reader’s attention at once with her clear, commanding voice and complaints to her students of a “plot” against her at Marcia Blaine School. With good reason, since she willfully ignores the school curriculum. Instead, she devotes class time to her personal artistic interests, romantic reminiscences and rose-colored tales of Italian travels, supplemented by after-school teas and walking tours of Edinburgh. On one of these, the girls’ cloistered lives are briefly exposed to the reality of the Great Depression’s working-class poverty. But Brodie turns this into a teaching moment for her own biases:“ In Italy, the unemployment problem has been solved” (by Mussolini).
Even though her students are just 10-year-olds when first assigned to her, Brodie joyously proclaims to them that, just turned 40, she has reached her prime and they are her true vocation. She also can’t resist practicing some Calvinist predestination. Each of her loyal “Brodie Set” is repeatedly described by a few exaggerated features. Monica is stereotyped as the group’s math wiz, Eunice the gymnast, Jenny the actress, Rose the beauty “famous” for sex-appeal and Mary Macgregor the dunce. Then there’s Sandy, a “rather difficult old girl with abnormally small eyes,” who is scarred for life with “small, piggy eyes,” “small, almost nonexistent eyes,”
Just as readers are settling in for what appears a witty Scottish coming-of-age tale about the Brodie brood and their eccentric teacher, chapter 2 opens by bravely jolting us into the future, revealing that one of them dies horribly in a fire age 24 and that Miss Brodie herself loses her teaching job and dies age 55 at war’s end. I think it’s a measure of Spark’s writerly confidence and skill that she pulls that off without losing our curiosity and motivation to keep reading to the end.
The novel’s third-person narrative voice mostly seems closest to Sandy, whose very surname (Stranger) hints at a possible streak of independence from her teacher. That becomes unmistakable once she starts an affair with Brodie’s former lover, Teddy Lloyd, then reveals her politics to Miss MacKay. And we can see it in Sandy’s adult decision to become a cloistered nun – after six years of Brodie condemning Catholicism as pure superstition.
But I was pleased at how hard this wonderful novel tried to balance dispassionate observations of an elitist educator on the wrong side of history with a certain sympathy for a high-spirited, never-married, middle-aged woman who each year entrusted her hopes and passions to a small band of girls.
Jean Brodie, loosely based on one of Spark’s own teachers, was: “a progressive spinster,” not uncommon after World War I had killed off a generation of single young men. Her kind were “great talkers and feminists and, like most feminists, talked to men as man-to-man.” But well before Sandy’s out of her teens, she recognizes that: “There were other people’s Edinburghs, quite different from hers,” “there were other people’s 1930s.”