English girls' boarding school life was never like this in the books we read as kids!
Imagine the Chalet School, Malory Towers, the twins at St. Claire's, and the Angela Brazil school stories all brought bang up to date for the twenty-first century, complete with Benedict Cumberbatch, Doctor. Who, Brighton nudist beach, a surfit of sausages, and girls who seem to spend more time on their blogs than on prep, all thrown into a high-speed blender with Miss Marple's great-grandchildren and you'll have some idea of what to expect from this comedy-mystery series.
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Jointly written by two schoolgirl debut novelists, just 16 and 17 at time of publication, and with some occasional input by international bestselling novelist Mark Williams, St. Mallory’s Forever! is the first of the St. Mallory’s comedy-mystery boarding school series that aims to prove just one thing:
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That everything you thought you knew about English girls’ boarding schools is wrong.
Yes, even that bit.
St. Mallory's Forever! has just been relaunched, so not a lot to show for for this great little comedy mystery set in an English girls' boarding school, but given of the author's is a million-seller there's high hopes that will soon pick up steam. Especially when part two of the series is released.
Yes, I’m fluent in five languages. And bizarrely that’s causing me problems here at St. Mallory’s. But no, not because the Brits and Americans can’t agree on how to spell words in English.
You see, when I came here for the school tour prior to enrolment Dad was on some official... thing, I don’t know what, to do with the Embassy, so I got lumbered with one of the staff to drive me down. And guess who happened to have a throat infection that week? Yours truly.
I could hardly speak, my tongue was bright orange from sucking lozenges, and I had to use universal sign language (nod or shake head, smile or frown, a thumbs up, or maybe two fingers, depending on the circumstances) to respond to any questions.
So when they asked me about my English skills my idiotic driver explained, accurately but to disastrous effect, that English was my fifth language.
“Oh dear,” said the Head. “We don’t have a class for English as a fifth language,” (visualise condescending smile here) “but I’m sure our English as a Second Language facilities will help you pick up the basics, at least, and we can arrange for extra tuition on evenings and at weekends until you catch up.”
Extra tuition in evenings and weekends? Catch up? I probably speak English better than she does!
I tried to put her right, and tell her where she could stuff her ESL lessons, especially the ones scheduled in my free time, but all that came out of my mouth was a fair imitation of a dromedary camel with asthma. The Head gave me a look of unadulterated pity such that I wanted to set about her with a lacrosse sick and beat her incessantly.
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Julia Braga
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