Picking up the threads about Schellberg Street

It really started as far back as 1979. Of course that was just the idea for the story. The story itself takes place mainly in the late 1930s and 1940s. In 1979 Renate James nee Edler received a small parcel from Germany. The name of the sender sounded familiar but she couldn’t quite place her. She read the accompanying letter. More names seemed familiar. There was talk of a round robin letter that was written in three exercise books. One had been found in the attic of one of the girls, now in her 50s. That girl made it her mission to find every single girl and have a grand reunion.

She succeeded and Renate was the last to be found. As she was not too well off at the time her German friends clubbed together to pay her air fare and for the next few years the women met annually.

The round robin had been set up as the girls’ school was closing. It was a church school and as such not approved of by the Nazi regI ime, despite the chant of Kinder, Küche, Kirche - children, kitchen, church. This was what was expected of women. All the girls leaving to go to different schools. Renate believed she was going to Stuttgart and would go to the Waldorf school there. On the 22 December 1938, however, she found out for the first time that she was Jewish and that she would be going to school in England, not Stuttgart. This was a sticking point for many publishers.  “She must have known,” they said. No, she didn’t. Thank goodness Crooked Cat were more enlightened.

She began to write her own story. Unfortunately she became ill with cancer and died in 1986. There was a story too that she used to tell us about a forbidden school that  lay low during the Nazi regime but reopened as soon as World War II was over. I won’t give a spoiler now but will say that all that happens with the Home Guard, the Hitlerjugend and the BDM in The House on Schellberg Street was in that story. Also, there is a house on Schellberg Street that was used as a school for disabled children. That house belonged to Renate’s grandmother.

Most of The House on Schellberg is fiction but based on a very few verifiable facts and a lot of research. A little of the research uncovered a few more verifiable facts but it was mainly that of recreated experience and  method writing – i.e. putting myself in her shoes – and in those of her friend and grandmother who worked with the forbidden school and in those of the ordinary German girls who struggled a little to understand their new world.

A fascinating by-product of this work is my interests in Clara Lehrs, a very brave Holocaust victim. He wouldn’t have seen herself as a victim. However, that perhaps is a story for another day.

You can read a lot more about all of these stories and about how I researched and wrote them on this site. Enjoy!

                                                          The House on Schellberg Street 

Past tenses and the first person in Girl in a Smart Uniform

I started writing this originally in third person close. Even though I’d seen it as a young adult novel and first person is often used successfully for these, I’d opted for the close third person so that the reader may more enjoy the growth with the main character. The story takes place over three decades.  And that is where it became a little problematic.

I feel the reader does need the explanation as to why protagonist Gisela Schmidt becomes so enamoured of the Nazi doctrines. Some of it lies in the poverty and anxiety caused by what happened in the 1920s and 1030s. So, originally I started the story when she was a very little girl in the 1920s. The problem then is that the voice is too young for the perceived reader. So, I switched to first person, with the older brother Eberhard, nicknamed Bear by Gisela, telling this story.    

After a chat with an agent, I knew I had to start the story when Gisela is about to join the BDM, the Bund Deutscher Mädel, the girls’ version of the Hitler Youth. Bear fills in some back story later as he waits to take part in raid on a Russian village. 

Initially I chose for both of them what I call the immediate first person. This has only just happened and one young person is relating the events to another, partly in an attempt to understand them better. This wasn’t working as the story covers 22 years, even though  Gisela only tells us about 15 of them. 

Because I’ve now abandoned the “First person immediate” I’m asking myself whether this is in fact young adult novel at all. Even if it is read by young adults it may be equally palatable to older readers.

I do believe, however, that when the novel ends, Gisela does not know what is going to happen next. She has told us how she has got to that point. Right at the very end, then, I revert to first person immediate. I won’t quote the words here as that will create a spoiler. However, there are some examples below that don’t cause spoilers.

23 March 1932

. Herr Silber kept saying he would buy me the uniform and Kurt thought it would be a good idea. Bear, though, said I would have plenty of time for those sorts of things later. Mutti just smiled and shrugged her shoulders every time the subject came up. Anyway, back then, I wasn’t sure I was than keen on creepy crawlies and sleeping outside. I wished, though, that I could enjoy things like Thomas did.

(Note the addition of “back then”.)

7 September 1932: girls in smart uniforms    

I hated school that year. I’d really liked it up until then. I liked learning new things and I’d even liked everything Herr Lindemann had told us about how Germany would be glorious again one day. School had been so cosy and nice before. I always did well in class.

(“That year” takes us further back and implies that Gisela is now over these things)

23 March 1933

The crisp white shirt felt smart and very grown-up. The skirt fitted perfectly. Even the shoes were exactly right and they smelt of new leather. I pulled the little jacket on and then looked in the mirror again. Goodness, I looked so much older. The skirt came half way down my calves. How elegant! I didn’t know how to do up the neckerchief, though. I fiddled with it for a few moments but couldn’t make it look right.

(She is looking back in this scene – we don’t see her put the uniform on. There is a hint of reflection)

This was all lovely. It was so good to be praised for looking smart. The other girls did seem nice, even if Tabitha was a little strange. It all sounded quite good. I found myself looking forward to meeting the rest of the pack. Reluctantly I had to admit I must thank Herr Silber for that. 

(Very firmly in a distant past)

20 April 1933: great expectations

It really made me squirm sometimes. In the early days when Herr Silber used to stay over I didn’t understand what was happening. Strange noises would come from Mutti’s room. Groans and screams and the bed sounded as if someone was using it as a trampoline. It used to scare me and I thought he was murdering Mutti. I used to hold my breath and hope it would end soon. I sometimes wondered whether I should go in there and try and stop them but I was worried that Herr Silber might try and hurt me as well. Besides I didn’t like the way he looked at me sometimes or the way he touched me.

(“It used to”. “would” “in the early days” all imply distant past.)

 

A Missunderstanding 30 January 1939

 “You will be fine,” said John. “Absolutely fine. You’ll learn very quickly once you start school. Your uncle said you learnt Italian really quickly?”

“That was different,” wailed Renate. “We’d had lessons at school and then we only had to speak it to the skiing instructor. Tomorrow I’ve got to be able to understand everything in school.”

“And I’m giving you lessons,” said John. “It’s all around you all the time. The school is, thank God, anyway, exactly like the one you were going to go to in Stuttgart.”       

“Except that they all speak English,” muttered Renate.

“So we should practice now,” said John. “Come on, we shall speak English. Tell me everything you see!”

It was an unusually warm day for January. There were ducks and even swans bobbing along happily on the Thames. Renate could hardly believe that the trees and the birds and the bees were going on as normal – in fact better than normal – despite  all the strange things that were happening to her. The sun made the water sparkle and you could see the reflections of all the tall buildings quite clearly on the water.

“Come on, then,” said John slowly in English. “What can you see?”

“Ich kann eine,” Renate started. She didn’t even know how to say “I can”.

“I can,” John said slowly for her.                        

 “Well, I can see a bridge, Tower Bridge,” said Renate carefully.“And Big Ben. Zhe-” She really did have trouble with “the”. She paused, took a deep breath, and placed her tongue firmly between her teeth. “The Houses of Parliament in London- the capital of - the United Kingdom.”

Mrs Smith nodded and smiled. She muttered something to John. He laughed.

“My mother thinks you sound like a tourist book,” he said.

 “What can you see on the river?” he asked, switching back to German. . 

“I can see some boots, and I can see a bugger,” replied Renate.

“What?” asked Mrs Smith.

A gentleman who was standing next to them cleared his throat and frowned at Renate.

“I can see a big bugger,” repeated Renate, looking sideways at the man, wondering why he seemed so hot and bothered.

“Well, really,” he muttered and hurried away.

“Bugger?” asked John. “Where did you learn that word?” he added in German.  You mustn’t say that. It’s a really bad swear word.”

“What have you been teaching her?” asked Mrs Smith.

“What do you mean?” asked John, ignoring Mrs Smith’s question.

“Look, bugger,” said Renate, pointing at the large craft which was slowly making its way upriver.

“Dredger,” said John. “That’s a dredger.” He laughed. “Of course. You’re trying to say the German word the English way,” he added in German.

“Oh, I’ll never get the hang of this stupid language,” moaned Renate, blushing bright red. “They’ll all laugh at me tomorrow.”

“They won’t laugh,” said John. He translated for his mother.

Mrs Smith gave her a huge hug. She said something which Renate could not understand, and shook her head violently. 

“They’re going to be nice,” said John in German. “But you’ve got to see the funny side of it. That man thought you were calling him a very rude word.”

He explained to Mrs Smith. She put her hand over her mouth and went very red. Then her eyes twinkled and suddenly she was laughing. 

 “Go on, laugh,” said John. 

Suddenly Renate found herself giggling helplessly at the thought of the gentleman’s face. And laughing made her feel better. Perhaps tomorrow would not be so bad after all.   

Hani, 10 February 1939

Trying on the uniform

“It will look very smart once you’ve got it on properly,” said Rikki. “You just give me a shout when you’re ready and I’ll help you get that neckerchief straight. Get that right and you’ll look really good. Especially as I’ve ironed every single crease out of it all.”

Rikki let herself out of Hani’s bedroom.  Hani stared at the skirt and shirt laid out neatly on her bed. It would look quite smart, she supposed. But only if it fitted her properly. It would certainly look good on some of the slimmer girls. She was glad, actually, that her uniform was navy-blue and white and not the ugly brown that the boys had to wear.  She touched the skirt. Actually, the material felt a bit softer that what she’d had to wear when she was in the Jungmädelbund.

The inauguration ceremony

“But we must also give this warning:” he said. There was something in his tone that suggested he was coming to the end of his speech. Thank goodness! “If you do not stand together, but become disunited, if you are not loyal, but disloyal, if you do not work and are cowardly, you will fall into terrible chaos and Germany will collapse. God will have no home in Germany any longer.”

eve in the God that loved everybody?  Why should he single out the Germans?      

The young man was still speaking. “….It is therefore our holiest  

Duty to fight to our last breath

Anything that threatens or endangers the life

Of our people. God will decide

Whether we live or die.”

Hani joined in with the others. “This we pledge.” I just don’t get it, she thought. What’s the point of doing anything if God is going to decide in the end what happens? It doesn’t make any sense. None of it does. 

“We want to be free from all selfishness.

We want to be fighters for this Reich

Named Germany, our home.

The language dilemma

I once saw two different productions within a fortnight of the same Molière play. One was a close translation of the original text, and  it's staging contained many of the elements of the time when it was written. The second one was brought right up into the 21st century, with a modern setting and modern jokes. Quite quirkily it was delivered mainly in rhyming couplets. I slightly preferred the latter though also appreciated the former. I remember this as I try to make my decision now.

I'm currently working on the third book in the Schellberg cycle. This one is almost completely fictional and set in  Nazi Germany. I'm allowing my characters to speak in quite modern English. I do agree that this would sound strange if the story were set in 1940s Britain. However we're one step away here as the characters are all speaking another language some of the words and phrases might be useful. In any case, just as in the second version of the Moliere play, bringing our characters into the 21st century might make them more accessible.

A couple of examples:

1. older brother Kurt refers to younger Eberhard as "Bro". This could anyway be a translation of "Bruderchen" or "Mein Bruder" both of which may have been used in the 1940s.

2. A school girl struggling with fractions complains that the work is "doing my head in". This phrase does not exist literally in German. However there was no doubt something equally colloquial then in German as there is probably as well now. The modern German would not be appropriate but the modern English may be acceptable as an equivalent.

So, there seems to be a suggestion that this might work.

However, in the first novel, The House  on Schellberg Street , I do use a  1940s' English. This is partly because it is set in that place and time and partly because the letters I transcribed as part of my research produced a certain pleasingly old-fashioned tone.

So. It remains a dilemma for the moment. It could be that by the time you read this a decision has been made.