I read this because it'd been a while since I joined in on a goodreads Constant Reader book club discussion. I always enjoy those discussions so much. So much intellect flowing over the wires. I don't regret having read the novel, but it wasn't worth interrupting my read of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.Jean Brodie is a captivating teacher who cares a little too much about herself. I couldn't help but love her "liberal" attitude for the time period. Very much a feminist in "her prime." The only other adult female characters are the spinster school mistress who is about as unhappy as an elephant who is being attacked by a pride of lions, and a Catholic mother who has a billion children with a man who sleeps with his students after he paints them nude. So, despite all Miss Brodie's flaws (she's obviously lonely, fooled by the romanticism of the fascists, and a pretty terrible teacher) she definitely feels like the winner.
The story is mostly told from the perspective of one of her students. Who I personally think has a VERY unhealthy infatuation with Miss Brodie. Others in the constant reader group don't see it that way. They think poor Sandy was a victim . . . they obviously don't work with teens all day. Sure, they are impressionable, but her obsession (which I almost view as lust) for Miss Brodie is not so innocent.
I didn't really like the writing. It's humorous at times, and I did enjoy that the narrator was anonymous and omniscient. I just don't think the read is something I'd deem classic, and I'm not sure how it's stuck around so long. I'll have to rent the movie.
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