The Books: Ballet Shoes (Noel Streatfield)

Daily Book Excerpt: YA fiction/children’s books:

Next book on the shelf is Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild.

There are a couple of important books I read in my childhood and this is one of them. Important, I mean, in terms of me, and my development- and also my private little world of wanting to be an actress. Because even though I was in plays and everything as a little kid, and even though I knew I was happier on stage than just about anywhere else – my ambition was something I kept private. It seemed embarrassing and I didn’t know what to do with it. Also, my family didn’t really like show-offs, and I didn’t want to be a show-off. But what is acting other than showing off? A lot of my desire to be an actress came from (and still comes from) wanting to be seen. This isn’t easy to admit, because people hate people like that. And yet, whaddya know, they still shell out their 10 bucks to go see movie stars “show off” … and maybe they don’t respect the impulse, and maybe they wouldn’t like the movie star if they met him in person … but they still love to go be entertained. And all of those people, mega-stars even, just want to be SEEN. As you develop your craft, other things come into the picture. For me it did, anyway. You fall in love with the artform itself. You become aware of a bigger need. Something happens between actor and audience during the course of a play that is truly profound – on both sides – and it is addictive. What is it? It is a shared experience. It is an experience of Community with a capital C unlike anything else I have ever experienced. I was unaware of all of this when I was a little kid. I just knew that being in school plays was the most fun I had ever had … and more than that … I knew that I NEEDED to do it. I liked other things, too. I loved to write. I loved playing baseball. But acting – with all its anxiety, all its frightening implications – was what I NEEDED to do. And at the very bottom of that need, was a ferocious desire to be SEEN. I believe that once you accept that desire (which is, at its base, an anti-social desire), and stop shaming yourself for it, and stop thinking that you need to be like other people, and stop putting “fitting in” as the #1 virtue – you are well on your way to actually BEING an actor. So in terms of the importance of this book, Ballet Shoes (which is a wonderfully written story, by the way) – it said a couple of different things to me. It said: You are not alone. Other little girls out there have the same burning desire. It also said: There is a way to take this craft seriously. You can actually WORK at it until you can do it as a JOB. Now my aunt Regina was (and is) an actress – and part of my childhood was going to see her in shows up and down the Eastern seaboard. A marvelous singer, wonderful actress – she was impossibly glamourous to me – one of my most important influences. My first trip to New York was when I was 11 years old – and I went on the train by myself (Mum, Dad – how on earth did you dare??) – and stayed with Regina for a weekend. She took me to see Annie (and omigod, Sarah Jessica Parker was playing Annie!!) – and I stayed with her in her little apartment, and she took me around to museums, and it was one of the coolest trips EVER! Now I know that Regina was only 22 at that time – which is just amazing to me – she seemed SO adult!! I’m imagining myself at 22. Wow. What?? So unlike some other people – who have no examples in their immediate family of people who do this weird job and actually have lives, etc. – I had an example right in front of me, which was very important. This private acting dream of mine was something I could actually do when I was a grown-up.

Ballet Shoes, which I read when I was 9 or 10, was a hugely formative book for me – for all of these reasons. It is the story of Pauline, Petrova and Posy Fossil (yes, those are their names) – three adopted sisters – who live in the bleak rain-sodden world of 1930s London – and who, in order to pay for their room and board in their foster home – start to train for the stage. Streatfeild wrote a whole series of these books – about kids who are good at something, and who go to train for it – Circus Shoes, Tennis Shoes – and more. I read them all – but Ballet Shoes was my favorite. I LIVED with those girls. I went to the Academy of Dancing with them. I angsted over their auditions. I marveled at Posy’s gift for ballet. I wanted to BE in those classes. I wanted to have my chance too – to “put my name in the history books” (this is a vow the 3 sisters make to one another). I read it over and over and over … and I still have my copy of it – and funnily enough, I picked it up this morning, and I knew the first paragraph by heart:

The Fossil sisters lived in the Cromwell Road. At that ed of it which is farthest away from the Brompton Road, and yet sufficiently near it so one could be taken to look at the dolls’ housese in the Victoria and Albert every wet day. If the weather were not too wet, one was expected to “save the penny and walk”.

Interestingly enough, Petrova (the one who didn’t want to be an actress) was my favorite of all of the sisters. I related to her the most. She was not obedient, she grumbled a lot, and she had outside interests. This seems interesting to me – it seems logical that Pauline, the little prodigy actress would have been my favorite, but no. Petrova was my girl. I could analyze this thus: Even with acting growing in my heart as something I wanted to do … I think I knew that I could never not have other interests. I don’t know that I KNEW this, actually … most of this was unconscious. Petrova was an actress, and actually kind of a good one – instinctive – but she never took it too seriously, and always had her eyes looking up in the sky, looking for “aeroplanes”, her main passion. People do not fit into nice little square boxes. Pauline “should” have been my favorite – but she was not. Petrova was.

Another reason why this book was so haunting to me was because the three girls lived in a world I didn’t know – London in the 1930s. What is the Cromwell Road? No idea – it seemed like I SHOULD know – but because of this book I had a vivid picture of it in my mind. As well as “the dolls’ houses in the Victoria and Albert”. What is the Victoria and Albert? No idea – but I had an entire building erected in my mind. I had a love affair with stories of kids in London anyway, starting from when I read Oliver Twist at age 10 – I loved the Narnia books – I loved The Little Princess … London was just alive for me, because of books like that. It seemed kind of grim. There was always rain. People wore galoshes, and lit fires when they came inside. There were tea trays, and grey sodden lawns. Noel Streatfeild is a wonderful writer – she doesn’t just write very convincingly of the training young actors got in London those days (although all of that is very well done) – she describes that entire pre-war world of London vividly. You LIVE there with those sisters. Also, I just so wanted to call my own dresses “frocks” and not have anyone look at me weird. “Frock” is SUCH a better word than ‘dress”, an opinion I maintain to this day.

Pauline turns out to be a gifted actress, and starts getting leading roles immediately. Petrova is the odd one out – a skinny brown-haired tomboy – she has no interest in this stuff – she wants to be an aviatrix. She wants to fly “aeroplanes”. Again – with that spelling of the word …. a whole other world is evoked. A British world. A world SORT of like mine – I knew what she was talking about when she talked about “aeroplanes” – but that’s not how WE spell it. I loved that slight difference. It was romantic. The youngest sister, Posy, is 8 years old. And although she has no training yet – it is apparent to the people at the school from day one – that she could be a ballerina the entire world would know. Her talent is kind of mystical – and there are a couple of goosebumpy sections when it is recognized (one of them is in the excerpt below). Posy is casual about her genius – beause most geniuses are. They don’t know that there is any other way to be than the way that they are.

If I had to look back on my childhood and pick 5 books which helped me to become who I am today – this one is on the list. Maybe it would be #1. Well, it would have to be a tie with Harriet the Spy. Harriet was the writer in me. The Ballet Shoes girls were the actress. This book helped say to me:

No. You are not crazy. This is actually something you can DO and taking it seriously is not only NOT silly … but it is one of the most worthwhile things you can do with your time. Being a show-off is not a bad thing if you put it to USE. So whatever you do, Sheila, put it to USE. Yes, I was only 10, 11 years old when I read it … but it had that affect on me. Flipping through the pages right now, I can feel the young young Sheila reading it, poring over every word, taking life lessons from every page.

Weirdly enough: I have mentioned this book before on my blog, just in passing. I got a random email from Mark Steyn of all people – out of the blue – saying, “Anyone who loves Noel Streatfeild is okay in my book. I read them all when I was a kid.” Okay – now picture THAT!! Also … uhm … Mark Steyn reads my blog? Huh?

Here’s an excerpt that kind of captures the magical feel of this book. The Fossil girls have just been accepted as scholarship students into the Academy of Dancing. Their whole lives change.

Listen to the details. See how a whole world is created?

Excerpt from Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild.

The Fossils became some of the busiest children in London. They got up at half-past seven and had breakfast at eight. After breakfast they did exercises with Theo for half an hour. At nine they began lessons. Posy did two hours’ reading, writing, and kindergarten work with Sylvia, and Pauline and Petrova did three hours with Doctor Jakes and Doctor Smith. They were very interesting lessons, but terribly hard work; for if Doctor Smith was teaching Pauline, Doctor Jakes taught Petrova, and the other way on, and as both doctors had spent their lives coaching people for terribly stiff examinations – though of course they taught quite easy things to the children – they never got the idea out of their minds that a stiff examination was a thing everybody had to pass some day. There was a little break of ten minutes in the middle of the morning when milk and biscuits were brought in; but after a day or two they were never eaten or drunk. Both doctors ahd lovely ideas about the sort of things to have in the middle of lessons – a meal they called a beaver. They took turns to get it ready. Sometimes it was chocolate with cream on it, and sometimes Doctor Jakes’ ginger drink, and once it was ice-cream soda; and the things to eat were never the same: queer biscuits, little one from Japan with delicate flowers painted on them in sugar, cakes from Vienna, and specialties of different kinds from all over England. They had their beavers sitting round the fire in either of the doctors’ rooms, and they had discussions which had nothing to do with lessons. At twelve o’clock they went for a walk with Nana or Sylvia. They liked it best when Sylvia took them. She had better ideas about walks; she thought the Park the place to go to, and thought it a good idea to take hoops and things to play with. Nana liked a nice clean walk up as far as the Victoria and Albert and back. On wet days Sylvia thought it a good plan to stay in and make toffee or be read out loud to. Nana thought nicely brought-up children ought to be out of the house between twelve and one, even on a wet day, and she took them to see the dolls’ houses in the Victoria and Albert. The children liked the dolls’ houses; but there are a lot of wet days in the winter, and they saw them a good deal. Pauline and Petrova had lunch with Sylvia, Posy had hers with Nana. After lunch they all had to take a book on their beds for half an hour. In the afternoons there was another walk, this one always with Nana. It lasted an hour, and as they had usually walked to the Victoria and Albert in the morning, they did not have to go there again, but took turns to choose where they went. Pauline liked walking where there were shops. Petrova liked the Earl’s Court Road, because there were three motor showrooms for her to look at. Posy liked to go towards the King’s Road, Chelsea, because on the way they passed a shop that sold puppies. They all liked Posy’s walk; but they did not choose it themselves because they knew she would. If Nana was not so sure that they must save and penny and walk they would have gone to much more exciting placesl for you can’t get far on your legs when there is only an hour, and that includes getting home again. Tea was in the nursery at a quarter to four, and at half past they went by the Piccadilly railway to Russell Square. They all liked going on the underground; but both Gloucester Road, where they got in, and Russell Square, where they got out, were those mean sort of stations that have lifts instead of moving staircases.

“Going to dancing class,” Petrova said almost every day, “wouldn’t be so bad if only there was even one moving staircase.”

As soon as they got to the Academy they went down to the changing-room. There they shared a locker in which their rompers and practice-frocks and shoes were kept. Their rompers were royal blue with C.A. for Children’s Academy embroidered on the pockets. They wore their rompers for the first half-hour, and with them white socks and black patent-leather ankle-strapped shoes. In these clothes they did exercises and a little dancing which was known as “character”, and twice a week they worked at tap dancing. At the end of half an hour they hung towels round their necks (for they were supposed to get so hot they would need a wipe down) and went back to the changing-room and put on their white tarlatan practice-frocks. These were like overalls with no join down the back; the bodice had hooks and the frills of the skirt wrapped over and clipped. With this they wore white socks and white kid slippers. The work they did in these dresses they found dull, and it made their legs ache. They did not realize that the half-hour spent holding on to a bar and doing what they thoughts stupid exercises was very early training for ballet. Ballet to them meant wearing blocked shoes like the little pair that had come with Posy or such as the more advanced classes wore at school. Sometimes Madame Fidolia came in to watch their class, and directly she arrived they all let go of the practice-bar and curtsied to the floor saying “Madame”.

They got home at half-past six, and Posy went straight to bed. Sylvia reada to the other two for twenty minutes, and then Petrova had to go up, and at seven, Pauline. The lights were out by half-past and there was o more talking.

On Saturday mornings they worked from ten to one at the Academy. As well as special exercise classes and the ordinary dancing classes, there was singing, and one hour’s acting class. For these they wore the Academy overalls. They were of black sateen made from a Russian design, with high collars, and double-breasted, buttoning with large black buttons down the left side; round the waist they had wide black leather belts. With these they wore their white sandals.

Petrova, who hated clothes, found the everlasting changing an awful bore. Saturdays were the worst.

“Oh, I do hate Saturdays,” she said to Nana. “I get up in my jersey and skirt, and as soon as I get to the Academy I change everything, even put a vest on instead of my combinations, and wear those rompres; and then my practice-dress and the overall; and then back into my combinations and my skirt and jersey. I wish I was a savage and wore nothing.”

“That’s no way to talk,” Nana told her sternly. “Many a poor little child would be glad of the nice clothes you wear; and as for changing out of your combies, I’m glad you do; you wear holes in them fast enough without all the dancing in them.”

From the very beginning Madame took an interest in Posy. Every class that she came to watch she made her do some step alone. Posy had her shoes taken off one day and her instep looked at; Madame was so delighted at the shape and flexibility of her feet that she called the rest of the class to look at them. The rest of the class admired them while Madame was there, but secretly none of them could see anything about them different from their own. Pauline and Petrova thought it very bad for Posy to be made so conspicuous, and to teach her not to get cocky they called her “Posy-Pretty-Toes” all the way home. Posy hated it and at last burst into tears. Nana was very cross.

“That’s right, you two, tease poor little Posy; she can’t help Madame saying she has nice feet. It’s jealous, that’s what you are. Any more of your nonsense and you’ll go to bed half an hour early.”

“Why should we be jealous?” asked Petrova. “Who cares what feet look like? They are just useful things.”

Pauline giggled.

“Have you pretty feet, Nana?” She looked down at Nana’s square-teoed black shoes which she always wore.

“I have what God gave me,” Nana said reverently. “and they’re all I need, never having thoughts to dance in a ballet.”

The thought of Nana, who was very fat, dancing in a ballet made them all laugh so much that they forgot to call Posy “Pretty-Toes” again, and they were still laughing when they got home.

It was at the acting classes that Pauline shone. The acting in their first term was entirely in mime. They acted whole fairy stories without saying a word. Whether she was a princess, or a peasant, or an old man, Pauline managed to make them real without any dressing up, but just in the way she moved.

Just before Christmas the school broke up for a month. All the senior girls were working in pantomimes, and for some time all those who were not old enough for licenses had felt very important. The children’s classes were moved from one room to another to make room for rehearsals, and the notice-board was covered with rehearsal calls. “All concered in the Rose Ballet, in room three at 4.30”. “The children appearing in Red Riding Hood, 5.30, room seven.” “The principals for the Jewel Ballet, 4 o’clock, room one.” And, as well, calls for the children stars. “Poppy: 10.30 with Madame Fidolia.” “Winifred: 12 o’clock with Madame Fidolia.”

Pauline, Petrova, and Posy would gaze in great awe at these names.

“Winifred,” one of them would say – “that’s the girl who wears a fur coat. Poppy is going to be Alice in Wonderland. She’s the one with the long hair.”

They would peep through the glass on the doors of the rooms where the rehearsals were taking place, and stare at the children who were already twelve and old enough to earn money.

“Not this Christmas, but the one after I shall be one of those children,” Pauline said enviously.

“Do you want to be?” Petrova asked in surprise. “I’m very glad I’m not twelve, except because of Garnie wanting money to look after us.”

Pauline watched the figures through the glass, the rows of white practice-dresses, and the rows of pink canvas ballet shoes.

“I don’t want to be them, exactly,” she explained, “but I want to be old enough not to dance, but to act. I’d like that.”

Posy could not see through the glass window without standing on her toes. Suddenly watching the ballet rehearsal she got up on to her points. She was only wearing her sandals, but she did not seem worried by the position. Pauline nudged Petrova.

“Look at Posy.”

Petrova looked. Then both of them tried to stand up on their toes, but they could not – it hurt. Posy was not looking at them; but she lolled against the door balanced on her points as easily as if they were her flat feet. Petrova said at last:

“Could you walk on your toes like that, Posy?”

Posy looked down at her feet as if surprised at the way they were behaving. Then she walked down teh passage. She was perfectly easy on her points, as though it was ordinary to walk on them. Pauline and Petrova did not show her how impressed they were, as they thought it would be bad for her. But on the way home, Pauline said:

“You know, Petrova, I do think Posy really has got rather nice little feet.”

Petrova nodded.

“I shouldn’t wonder if she danced terribly well.”