This is by Elinor M. Brent-Dyer (1894-1969), and it was published in 1925.

We go back a way, Elinor and I...

As a child (ie, in the latter years of primary school, and maybe the first year or so of secondary school), I was a great fan of school stories. I'm not sure why. They were all written many decades before I was reading them; the children they featured were mostly from a socio-economic bracket very different from mine; and the schools they depicted, and their pupils' feelings for these establishments, were light-years from anything I had experienced. Even then, although I probably couldn't have articulated it, I remember feeling surprise that a corporate entity could inspire the kind of loyalty and enthusiasm portrayed in these stories, along with a kind of regret that I could never imagine offering this loyalty. Whether this was a failing of mine, or of the corporate institutions I was familiar with, I'm not sure.

Angela Brazil (1868-1947) was a great favourite (my mother had read her stories, too). The school stories of Enid Blyton (1897-1968) were tolerable (although I much preferred her mystery stories). But my absolute top favourite school stories were the Chalet School books by Elinor M. Brent-Dyer.

When I knew we'd be travelling through Innsbruck, I went on a quick hunt -- as I always do -- for associated literature. And what do you know? I had completely forgotten that the first Chalet School stories were set near Innsbruck...

OK, so the next question is: Where was the original Chalet School?

I say "original", because -- as aficionados will know -- the teachers and pupils had to up sticks from Austria as WWII approached. They set up again in Guernsey, and then in various places in the United Kingdom, before finally settling in Switzerland.

But the first 16 books (of what would eventually be a 58-book-long series) were set, according to this detailed account, in a place called Pertisau, situated on the Achensee (fictionalized respectively as Briesau and the Tiernsee). All the neighbouring villages, landmarks, and mountains that are described in the books actually exist (and there's another discussion here on the actual building that the Chalet School was based on). Brent-Dyer, herself a teacher/headmistress before turning to writing full time, was inspired to set her stories here after visiting the area (probably in the summer of 1924).



It would have been possible to do a day trip to the area from Innsbruck. You can get the train to Jenbach (most services take about 30 minutes), and then the bus to Pertisau (about 35 minutes). But the weather for the one free day we had in Innsbruck was not promising. And we had a long journey coming up the following day. So, a trip to Pertisau went into the "next time" category. Ideally, in the "next time for a bit longer" section.

Never mind. Innsbruck itself also features in the books. Travelling from England, Madge Bettany (the 24-year-old founder of the Chalet School), Josephine (her 12-year-old sister), and Grizel (one of the first pupils), stopped first in Paris, and then in Innsbruck. In both, they did some sightseeing.


"It was half-past seven on the Wednesday evening when the Vienna express slackened speed before entering the Innsbruck Station..."

Ergo, a stay in Innsbruck was an ideal opportunity to take a look at the very first in the series, The School at the Chalet (available in the Internet Archive).

I definitely didn't read the whole series back in the day, and I'm not even sure I read this one -- although I think I did, as various episodes seem familiar. Armada paperbacks cost 2/6 (old money -- ie, eight to a pound), and much of my pocket money went on them. I don't think we had an actual bookshop in Peel, so the papershop (where I subsequently had a Saturday-and-holiday job) was my Armada supplier of necessity, and I was limited by what they stocked. Nor, as I've explained, were Chalet School books my only sustenance.

It has been an interesting experience, looking back through the eyes of a much older me at the beginning of a series that so charmed me as a youngster. Little "happens". Girls fall out with each other; they play pranks; they start a magazine; they go on outings; they get frustrated, and act up (sometimes in ways that bring them into danger, so that they fall ill, and run the risk of "brain-fever", that hoary old literary chestnut of the era). And they do plucky things like rescue others.


The adults, knowing Innsbruck already, act as tour guides: "We will go to the Ferdinandeum Museum...

There's a little social commentary. Despite the fact that Madge is terribly courageous and sensible, there's always a stress on the male backing she receives from various quarters. (The girls do get to play cricket, though, and have a fair amount of freedom...) And there are a couple of examples of neglectful parenting (Grizel's stepmother and Juliet's parents leave a lot to be desired). I'm fairly confident these elements would have passed me by first time round.

Which leaves us with a pretty slim story... And yet small me found the books absolutely mesmerizing, and big me can still kind of see why.

What had me hooked from the outset was their cosmopolitan flavour. EBD (as her fans dub her) strewed her text with French and German expressions, and made her continental settings attractive and exciting. She powerfully conveyed the idea that it was utterly desirable to speak a foreign language fluently, and feel at home in several European countries, and see foreigners as interesting, nice, and helpful people. It's true the Prussians come in for a bit of stick, but hey, we all have our blind spots, and it's only seven years after the end of WWI, after all... And even with regard to the nasty Prussian lady, it is made clear that patriotism consists in being the better person, and not putting yourself in the wrong (by being rude and argumentative), even when others have wronged you. "Patriotic! Huh!" Jo admonishes her hot-headed friend: "If that's your patriotism, I'm glad I don't possess any of it! A nice name she'll give all English girls now, thanks to you being 'patriotic'!" There are plenty who could benefit from this advice.

I grew up in a fairly confined environment. The Isle of Man in the 1960s and 1970s was a secure and beautiful place for a child, but it didn't offer much of a window onto the world. My family generally left the Island only once every couple of years, and that was to holiday in England, certainly not to go abroad (an activity considered faintly suspicious in my family).

Brent-Dyer's stories were a compensatory door that swung open to reveal the presence of something much, much bigger.


"...and the Hof Kirche...

Now, lots older and a little bit wiser, I know that the French expressions (in this book, at least) are often wrong (asking for "le comptoir" at the end of a meal in a restaurant would be a really big mistake...), and it's more than a little artificial to keep calling lunch "Mittagessen" and the dining-room "Speisesaal", and to render the speech of Austrians who are using the familiar German form of "you" with the antiquated thee/thy/thine in English, making them sound like something in a fairy-tale.

But at the end of the day, NONE of that matters. What matters is that Brent-Dyer WANTED to use French and German, and succeeded in making this usage seem not only completely normal but also totally cool.

I'm sure there were other reasons I was keen to learn to foreign languages, and spend time abroad. But EBD's Chalet School stories, I have no doubt, were important seeds in the development of those desires. At the age of 15, when I did finally get the chance to go abroad on a school trip, I loved the differences and the strangeness (whereas other kids found them trying) -- partly, I'm sure, because I was primed to find everything fascinating, and not threatening or peculiar.

Brent-Dyer, in a word, embodied everything that Brexit upended...

I wonder how many others she influenced similarly. Re-reading The School at the Chalet, I salute her all over again.


"...and you must see the old house with the golden roof"