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The Child Manuela
Die vierzehnjährige Manuela von Meinhardis, Tochter eines Offiziers, wird nach dem Tod der Mutter in ein Stift für verarmte höhere Töchter nach Potsdam geschickt. Der Erziehungsstil ist in diesem Internat nach wie vor von preußischem Drill und dem Fehlen menschlicher Nähe geprägt. Die Soldatentöchter sollen dort zu Soldatenmüttern erzogen werden. Die Oberin der Schule geht, wie Friedrich der Große, am Stock und erlässt Tagesbefehle wie in den Zeiten des Siebenjährigen Krieges. Die Auswirkungen dieses Preußentums auf das sensible junge Mädchen sind verheerend, sie hat Schwierigkeiten, sich den Verhältnissen anzupassen, und fällt in ihren Schulleistungen ab. Wärme und Verständnis geht allein von der jungen Lehrerin Fräulein von Bernburg aus, in die Manuela sich glühend verliebt. Christa „Kate" Winsloe (1888-1944) war eine deutsch-ungarische Schriftstellerin, Drehbuchautorin, Dramatikerin und Bildhauerin.
270 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1933
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About the author
Christa Winsloe
16 books17 followersChrista Winsloe was a German-Hungarian novelist, playwright and sculptor, best known for her play "Gestern und heute", the first sensitive play on female homosexuality in the Weimar Republic yet without a radical critique of the social discrimination of lesbian women.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 35 reviews
November 12, 2021
German-Hungarian artist and playwright Christa Winsloe made a name for herself when one of her plays was filmed as Mädchen in Uniform in 1931. Later banned by the National Socialists, the Weimar-era movie with its frank depiction of lesbian desire, and the potentially devastating consequences of German authoritarianism for individuals, was a global hit, successful with audiences as far afield as Japan. In 1933, Winsloe revisited her material in her novel The Child Manuela drawing more extensively on her own past, her mother’s early death, her strict boarding-school education. Unlike the stylised film with its all-female cast and claustrophobic atmosphere, Winsloe opens not with school but her central character’s childhood, Manuela or Lela, the daughter of a German army officer whose work constantly uproots his family, moving them from one garrison town to the next.
The first half of Winsloe’s story’s features scenes that made me think of vintage children’s books: Lela’s childhood games and toys, family outings, glorious feasts and skating in the middle of story-book, snowbound landscapes. But these images are continually undermined by events: the family’s increasing poverty, the sudden death of Lela’s favourite brother and her mother’s gradual decline. All presided over by her father, ostensibly the epitome of German soldiering, but undisciplined, decadent, self-deluding and self-indulgent. As Winsloe’s tragic narrative unfolds there’s a growing sense of anxiety and unease, as Lela’s life’s increasingly dominated by repressive adults. The teenage Lela’s incarcerated in a fortress-like school where girls are drilled, starved and bullied, robbed of their autonomy and sense of self. The only bright spot is Lela’s teacher, the beautiful, caring Fraulein who awakens Lela’s awareness of her love for other women.
Winsloe’s novel’s not as explicitly anti-fascist as the earlier movie version but it’s still a damning critique of German militarism, reminiscent of Sybille Bedford’s more sophisticated exploration of early 20th-century German society in A Legacy. Through Lela’s experiences, Winsloe highlights the repressive strands in German culture that contributed to the rapid rise of Hitler and National Socialism. Winsloe portrays the schoolgirls, the younger generation who would come of age during Weimar, as collaborative, sensitive, questioning gender norms and conventions, embracing change but too easily crushed by the force of their joyless, austere elders. She also constructs a convincing argument for the way in which patriarchal values can be internalised by women and inflicted on others. It’s a well-told, well-observed piece, although it’s pretty conventional, that builds to an unexpectedly frenzied, melodramatic climax. One that’s far less open to optimistic interpretations than the ending of Mädchen in Uniform perhaps because it was written when Weimar was already dying and Winsloe’s vision of the future was that much bleaker. Translated from the German by Agnes Neill Scott.
Rating: 3.5
The first half of Winsloe’s story’s features scenes that made me think of vintage children’s books: Lela’s childhood games and toys, family outings, glorious feasts and skating in the middle of story-book, snowbound landscapes. But these images are continually undermined by events: the family’s increasing poverty, the sudden death of Lela’s favourite brother and her mother’s gradual decline. All presided over by her father, ostensibly the epitome of German soldiering, but undisciplined, decadent, self-deluding and self-indulgent. As Winsloe’s tragic narrative unfolds there’s a growing sense of anxiety and unease, as Lela’s life’s increasingly dominated by repressive adults. The teenage Lela’s incarcerated in a fortress-like school where girls are drilled, starved and bullied, robbed of their autonomy and sense of self. The only bright spot is Lela’s teacher, the beautiful, caring Fraulein who awakens Lela’s awareness of her love for other women.
Winsloe’s novel’s not as explicitly anti-fascist as the earlier movie version but it’s still a damning critique of German militarism, reminiscent of Sybille Bedford’s more sophisticated exploration of early 20th-century German society in A Legacy. Through Lela’s experiences, Winsloe highlights the repressive strands in German culture that contributed to the rapid rise of Hitler and National Socialism. Winsloe portrays the schoolgirls, the younger generation who would come of age during Weimar, as collaborative, sensitive, questioning gender norms and conventions, embracing change but too easily crushed by the force of their joyless, austere elders. She also constructs a convincing argument for the way in which patriarchal values can be internalised by women and inflicted on others. It’s a well-told, well-observed piece, although it’s pretty conventional, that builds to an unexpectedly frenzied, melodramatic climax. One that’s far less open to optimistic interpretations than the ending of Mädchen in Uniform perhaps because it was written when Weimar was already dying and Winsloe’s vision of the future was that much bleaker. Translated from the German by Agnes Neill Scott.
Rating: 3.5
March 24, 2023
Mädchen in Uniform, the film version of The Child Manuela, is one of my favorite movies. Produced in Germany in 1931, written and directed by women, with an all-woman cast, explicitly lesbian theme, and strong stance against militarism, conservatism, and all who value order above compassion, the film’s historical importance is incontestable. Much more surprising is how utterly delightful it is—how real, how funny, how watchable! The Child Manuela, started before and finished after Winsloe’s script for Mädchen in Uniform, is a more difficult, if no less brilliant, creation.
Ironically, in toning down the story’s queer themes for a mass audience in 1931, the producers inadvertently also rendered less troubling the love between adult teacher and 14-year-old pupil. The novel, on the other hand, leaves no escape: it forces the question of childhood sexuality to the fore, forces readers to confront both the sheer erotic power of Manuela’s desire and the fact that saintly, beloved Fräulein von Bernburg returns that desire. That’s not to say that the novel advocates for pederasty, it does not. But it does not shy away, either. It is an honest book—and even were it not, what is most difficult in it now is not what was most difficult in it then.
Then too, The Child Manuela, even more than the film, stresses the loss of Manuela’s mother as a wellspring of lesbian desire. Needless to say, we no longer see gayness this way—it is a framing device drawn from an utterly discredited psychological theory. And yet, Winsloe was an out gay woman, and the scenes of Manuela’s childhood are so clearly rooted in lived experience that here, too, Manuela’s identification of beloved teacher with beloved mother feels real and human, never forced or false. Human love, after all, is a messy thing.
Winsloe was a brilliant writer, for the screen and on the page. Her dialogue turns on a dime from heartrending to hilarious. So far as I’m concerned, Mädchen in Uniform (which, it is worth noting, was a hit around the world, including in the United States, where it survived censorship following the personal intervention of Eleanor Roosevelt) is required viewing for anyone interested in queer history, queer cinema, or queer literature. If you’re anything like me, once you’ve seen it, you will need no further encouragement to seek out this wonderful novel and spend a few more precious hours with the lovely Manuela and beautiful Fräulein von Bernburg.
Incidentally, the translation is brilliant. Released in 1934, it vividly evokes its time and place. In fact, it was done under a pseudonym by Willa Muir, who (with her husband Edwin) did the first and, in my view, still the best translations of Kafka (contemporary critics may object, to which I can only say, what is it they are trying to sell you, and is it, perchance, a new translation of a book you already own?)
Ironically, in toning down the story’s queer themes for a mass audience in 1931, the producers inadvertently also rendered less troubling the love between adult teacher and 14-year-old pupil. The novel, on the other hand, leaves no escape: it forces the question of childhood sexuality to the fore, forces readers to confront both the sheer erotic power of Manuela’s desire and the fact that saintly, beloved Fräulein von Bernburg returns that desire. That’s not to say that the novel advocates for pederasty, it does not. But it does not shy away, either. It is an honest book—and even were it not, what is most difficult in it now is not what was most difficult in it then.
Then too, The Child Manuela, even more than the film, stresses the loss of Manuela’s mother as a wellspring of lesbian desire. Needless to say, we no longer see gayness this way—it is a framing device drawn from an utterly discredited psychological theory. And yet, Winsloe was an out gay woman, and the scenes of Manuela’s childhood are so clearly rooted in lived experience that here, too, Manuela’s identification of beloved teacher with beloved mother feels real and human, never forced or false. Human love, after all, is a messy thing.
Winsloe was a brilliant writer, for the screen and on the page. Her dialogue turns on a dime from heartrending to hilarious. So far as I’m concerned, Mädchen in Uniform (which, it is worth noting, was a hit around the world, including in the United States, where it survived censorship following the personal intervention of Eleanor Roosevelt) is required viewing for anyone interested in queer history, queer cinema, or queer literature. If you’re anything like me, once you’ve seen it, you will need no further encouragement to seek out this wonderful novel and spend a few more precious hours with the lovely Manuela and beautiful Fräulein von Bernburg.
Incidentally, the translation is brilliant. Released in 1934, it vividly evokes its time and place. In fact, it was done under a pseudonym by Willa Muir, who (with her husband Edwin) did the first and, in my view, still the best translations of Kafka (contemporary critics may object, to which I can only say, what is it they are trying to sell you, and is it, perchance, a new translation of a book you already own?)
March 2, 2014
For the first time in my life I finished a book, closed it and set it on my nightstand, stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, and fell asleep.
I have nothing passionate to say. Or perhaps I do, but I can't bring myself to write these ideas in a public forum.
The novel clears up many of the ambiguities of the 1958 film, and it answers many questions I was unaware I carried with me. It continues to haunt my thoughts as my mind works out just what it has taken in.
The book is a masterpiece.
I have nothing passionate to say. Or perhaps I do, but I can't bring myself to write these ideas in a public forum.
The novel clears up many of the ambiguities of the 1958 film, and it answers many questions I was unaware I carried with me. It continues to haunt my thoughts as my mind works out just what it has taken in.
The book is a masterpiece.
July 3, 2020
Das war das lesbischste, was ich je gelesen habe und ich habe jede Sekunde genossen. 10/10 - would read again.
September 25, 2017
Jesus. F***ing. Christ.
(Literally the most coherent thought I have about this book.)
(This. Book.)
(Literally the most coherent thought I have about this book.)
(This. Book.)
May 14, 2024
Heart shattering, different and more intense ending than the movie
February 8, 2017
Given the time this was written, I was expecting it to be somewhat stale, but it was actually gripping and authentic. The author effortlessly drags you into her main character's emotional turmoil without ever slipping into melodrama. I'd only seen the toned-down movie version from the 50s, so it was particularly fascinating to discover that not only was Manuela's crush on her teacher reciprocated, and not only are several of the girls cheerfully blatant about loving other girls, but there were several scenes that open up the possibility to read Manuela as a trans character. It was pretty fascinating.
November 11, 2015
One of the most sensitive and beautiful stories I have ever read. Rather different (and more bold!) than the movies, but still very nice. Sad and tragic till the end...
August 13, 2016
The beginning of this novel is fascinating: describing Prussia of the 1910s and all its military obsession. The characters are quickly drawn but very believable -- the father who is self-obsessed but wants to be kind; the mother who is loving but isolated and lost. And Manuela, the child who is desperate to love and be loved and deeply frustrated by the limitations placed on her because she is a girl.
The second half of the novel is a really frightening description of a convent school and all the petty tyrannies exacted on the pupils and their loss of freedom and affection. I completely believed the relationship between Manuela and her teacher, characterised by silent adoration. However, I found the ending too melodramatic, and wish the author had found a more subtle conclusion.
The second half of the novel is a really frightening description of a convent school and all the petty tyrannies exacted on the pupils and their loss of freedom and affection. I completely believed the relationship between Manuela and her teacher, characterised by silent adoration. However, I found the ending too melodramatic, and wish the author had found a more subtle conclusion.
September 6, 2007
This book, written in 1931, is about a girl named Manuela von Meinhardis who was sent to Prussian boarding school where she met a teacher she fell in love with, Fraulein von Bernburg. I really like Fraulein von Bernburg's character, really. Overall, a beautiful story :)
March 17, 2016
This. Is. Just. Beautiful.
The best lesbian classic novel ever.
The best lesbian classic novel ever.
May 16, 2012
Ich habe dieses Buch über meine Schwester entdeckt, ich wäre sonst vermutlich nie darauf gekommen. Mein Exemplar ist von 1959, es ist aber sehr schwer rauszufinden wann das Buch eigentlich geschrieben wurde. Klar ist nur, dass es eine autobiografische Geschichte ist, die von der Autorin später als Theaterstück umgeschrieben wurde und schließlich 1931 verfilmt wurde. Die Geschichte bekam bei den Wandlungen viele verschiedene Namen ("Das Mädchen Manuela", "Gestern und Heute", "Ritter Nérestan", "Mädchen in Uniform"), die letzte Version ist eine Neuverfilmung von 1958 mit Romy Schneider in der Hauptrolle. Es ist als eine der ersten lesbischen Geschichten kultig geworden, wobei die beschriebene homosexuelle Liebe auch als einfache jugendliche Schwärmerei durchgehen würde. Ich fand vor allem den Schreibstil interessant, man wird in eine völlig andere Welt transportiert - nicht nur durch die Sprache des Anfangs vom 20. JH, sondern auch durch die Situation Ende des 19. JH. Sicherlich wäre diese Geschichte heute ganz anders geschrieben worden.
May 19, 2019
I'm a massive fan of the 1931 film and loved this book - it gave me such a great insight into Manuela's life, and it's amazing that a character like her was ever written about at all, let alone all those decades ago. Her thoughts, breakdowns and internal/external torment all seemed so real! EvB was written so well and made me appreciate Wieck's acting all over again. I adored the contrast between the intense emotions of the girls and their stark surroundings, which is pulled off here (in translation) just as well as in the film version. But the ending made me sad :(
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 3, 2024
While following Lela as a child in the first half of the book was not what gripped me the most, the historical setting was a fascinating look into the Weimar era and its clear decline into fascism, with economic instability and increasing moral strictness.
The atmosphere at the school is stifling. Manuela and the other children are kept hungry, cold and joyless by the Headmistress, who is the paragon of authoritarian zeal. Her iron fist keeps not only the children miserable but the adult staff as well. The teachers range from total compliance to moderate rebellion, with Fräulein von Kesten attempting to stand up for the children only to be beaten down, and of course, Fräulein von Bernburg, who is gentle and caring towards them. This tenderness means that all the young girls, who are deprived of individuality and affection, pine for her attention. The line between the love for a mother figure and sexual desire is uncomfortably blurred.
Winsloe had a decidedly Freudian approach to portraying lesbian desire. Manuela loses her mother quite young and from then on starts to fixate on older women she finds beautiful, desperately needing to be loved by them, touched and comforted. From her point of view, this desire is expressed as romantic but never overtly sexual. She admires women's beauty, focusing on their features, the way they move and how that makes her yearn for their warmth.
From very early on, Lela expresses her desire to be a tomboy. She enjoys wearing pants and climbing trees. It is quite impossible to know if Lela is meant to be trans or a butch lesbian, but queer covers all the bases for the purposes of this review. In the context of the narrative, masculinity represents more than her desire towards other women being acceptable, but personal freedom to come and go and to dress as she pleases, which isn't afforded to her as a teenage girl.
The only sexual exchange Manuela is involved in is with another classmate, and then she is disgusted. It is clear this disgust is not because it's another girl kissing her, but simply because she's in love with Fräulein von Bernburg and this feels like a betrayal.
From her side, Fräulein von Bernburg is struggling with her attraction to Manuela. She has decided to remain single and work at the school, and her motivations are deliberately obscured. The reader is allowed into her thoughts, but they are self-censored. The only thing that is made clear is that she is not attracted to men and this felt like the only way she could feel desired by other women in an environment that didn't cast suspicion upon her for enjoying it. The fact that she's 28 and Manuela is 14 is something I also find a little uncomfortable, not for Manuela, for whom being attracted to a teacher is a perfectly common right of passage, but from Bernburg, who really should have been at an underground BDSM club populated with more emotionally mature women.
The atmosphere at the school is stifling. Manuela and the other children are kept hungry, cold and joyless by the Headmistress, who is the paragon of authoritarian zeal. Her iron fist keeps not only the children miserable but the adult staff as well. The teachers range from total compliance to moderate rebellion, with Fräulein von Kesten attempting to stand up for the children only to be beaten down, and of course, Fräulein von Bernburg, who is gentle and caring towards them. This tenderness means that all the young girls, who are deprived of individuality and affection, pine for her attention. The line between the love for a mother figure and sexual desire is uncomfortably blurred.
Winsloe had a decidedly Freudian approach to portraying lesbian desire. Manuela loses her mother quite young and from then on starts to fixate on older women she finds beautiful, desperately needing to be loved by them, touched and comforted. From her point of view, this desire is expressed as romantic but never overtly sexual. She admires women's beauty, focusing on their features, the way they move and how that makes her yearn for their warmth.
From very early on, Lela expresses her desire to be a tomboy. She enjoys wearing pants and climbing trees. It is quite impossible to know if Lela is meant to be trans or a butch lesbian, but queer covers all the bases for the purposes of this review. In the context of the narrative, masculinity represents more than her desire towards other women being acceptable, but personal freedom to come and go and to dress as she pleases, which isn't afforded to her as a teenage girl.
The only sexual exchange Manuela is involved in is with another classmate, and then she is disgusted. It is clear this disgust is not because it's another girl kissing her, but simply because she's in love with Fräulein von Bernburg and this feels like a betrayal.
From her side, Fräulein von Bernburg is struggling with her attraction to Manuela. She has decided to remain single and work at the school, and her motivations are deliberately obscured. The reader is allowed into her thoughts, but they are self-censored. The only thing that is made clear is that she is not attracted to men and this felt like the only way she could feel desired by other women in an environment that didn't cast suspicion upon her for enjoying it. The fact that she's 28 and Manuela is 14 is something I also find a little uncomfortable, not for Manuela, for whom being attracted to a teacher is a perfectly common right of passage, but from Bernburg, who really should have been at an underground BDSM club populated with more emotionally mature women.
November 20, 2022
There is a reason why Manuela’s story still resonates today despite the fact it takes place in a Prussian militaristic boarding school and was published almost a 100 years ago; at it’s core it’s a story of forbidden love, self-discovery, and “defiance” even in the face of so much societal intolerance. Christa Winsloe’s writing holds a mirror to society and invites readers to question how much ultimately was Manuela’s fault (none) versus the oppressive world she was born into (spoiler alert: basically all of it was:)). There were so many times that I tossed my phone (the only place I could find a pdf version of the book) onto my bed, in shock. Themes of child abuse, assault, rampant misogyny, pedophilia, suicide, and of course, extreme homophobia, are common throughout it. Children are routinely neglected and even the “good parental figures” (eg: Manuela’s mother, Mother Inge, and the beloved von Bernburg), adopt a mentality of “severeness being the only way to instill obedience.” Early on, Manuela’s mother would refer to her as “stupid darling” and I found myself aghast at how commonplace this “endearment” seemed to be!!
So… given all of this, why on EARTH would anyone want to read this?!
Above all else it’s the story of two characters: Manuela von Meinhardis and Elisabeth von Bernburg, and the love that grows between them despite everything keeping them apart. Manuela’s almost obsessive-like love for her teacher gives her something, someONE, to long for in her otherwise dismal reality. In her boarding school, “days fly rapidly when one has no time for reflection, when each day is the same as the next, when one does not act but is acted upon. A day that is governed by the ringing of an electric bell is a mechanical affair, and one tends to become as mechanical as the bell. That bell roused Manuela from the deepest morning sleep; it urged her downstairs for morning prayers; it shrilled: Nine o’clock. School, and again: Twelve o’clock, Walk; it rang for dinner and once more for school, once more for walk, once more for a meal; and then, finally, it announced bedtime. It interrupted trains of thought during school hours and gossip in the play interval; it parted friends in the garden, set hearts beating at the imminence of a disagreeable lesson and snatched the cup from one’s lips at the breakfast table. The bell was authority: the impersonal, ruthless, impassive organizer of an uneventful existence.” (Winslow 195).
Manuela, along with the rest of the girls confined in Hochdorf, the school, are trapped in this ongoing intergenerational cycle of servitude in which grandmothers, mothers, and daughters have been sent since time immemorial to learn to be obedient wives of soldiers. It is an endless cycle with little to see one through the day, much less a lifetime spent trapped within it. Fräulein von Bernburg changes everything…
“Since that moment everything had been different; everything had acquired a meaning; everything had to be done for her sake, to please her, Fräulein von Bernburg. There was nothing unconnected with her, and the day was governed no longer by the ringing of a bell but by the voice of Fräulein von Bernburg.” (Winslow 198).
All at once, Manuela’s reason for existence is turned on its head. In a world with so little to live for, meeting von Bernburg gives her a reason to live. She begins to worship her teacher, romanticizing her and obsessing over her so much that when she’s ultimately forced to leave, Manuela is driven to suicide.
I’ve seen both German versions of the film adaptation, “Mädchen in Uniform”, as well as the Spanish remake, “Muchachas de Uniform”, and in each, the handling of the ending differs slightly. Most significantly, none of the films end with Manuela’s death. Instead, Manuela’s ultimate despair is depicted only as a thwarted attempt to take her own life. By not ending with her death, a more hopeful chord is struck about the future of punishment and of homosexuality in general. Although it was absolutely heartbreaking to read such a deviation from the ending I’d expected in the book, a part of me understands why Winsloe chose to end it this way. Continuing with the “mirror to society” analogy, Manuela’s suicide acts as a warning for what can happen if people aren’t allowed to live and love freely.
The connection I felt to Manuela in the films made each story that much more powerful to me. I could understand her anguish over the impossibility of her situation so clearly to a degree that very few know…. Now in a different headspace, reading the book wasn’t quite as moving for me (but perhaps that’s why?). It wasn’t just the furthered themes of abuse shown throughout that I didn’t like, but I felt like the writing wasn’t as strong as the film’s acting. Manuela felt SO young as a fourteen-year-old, and I didn’t like that von Bernburg’s character was frequently equated to her mom, which made me feel more than slightly uncomfortable, lol.
Overall, I’d recommend starting with the 1958 German film adaption and then working backwards to the book if you want more. Actresses Lili Palmer, Romy Schneider, Dorothea Wieck, and Hertha Thiele are all fabulous and their portrayals will always hold a special place in my heart.
Manuela’s story feels like it’s simultaneously frozen in time and transcending it. It has all the right amounts of heartbreak, friendship, and longing and if you can look past its obvious flaws, I recommend watching or reading it.
I also recommend the 12-part podcast “The Kiss” by Bibi Berlin for a further exploration of the behind-the-scenes behind the story’s creation because it is equally fascinating. I have a feeling this story will stick with me for a long time…
So… given all of this, why on EARTH would anyone want to read this?!
Above all else it’s the story of two characters: Manuela von Meinhardis and Elisabeth von Bernburg, and the love that grows between them despite everything keeping them apart. Manuela’s almost obsessive-like love for her teacher gives her something, someONE, to long for in her otherwise dismal reality. In her boarding school, “days fly rapidly when one has no time for reflection, when each day is the same as the next, when one does not act but is acted upon. A day that is governed by the ringing of an electric bell is a mechanical affair, and one tends to become as mechanical as the bell. That bell roused Manuela from the deepest morning sleep; it urged her downstairs for morning prayers; it shrilled: Nine o’clock. School, and again: Twelve o’clock, Walk; it rang for dinner and once more for school, once more for walk, once more for a meal; and then, finally, it announced bedtime. It interrupted trains of thought during school hours and gossip in the play interval; it parted friends in the garden, set hearts beating at the imminence of a disagreeable lesson and snatched the cup from one’s lips at the breakfast table. The bell was authority: the impersonal, ruthless, impassive organizer of an uneventful existence.” (Winslow 195).
Manuela, along with the rest of the girls confined in Hochdorf, the school, are trapped in this ongoing intergenerational cycle of servitude in which grandmothers, mothers, and daughters have been sent since time immemorial to learn to be obedient wives of soldiers. It is an endless cycle with little to see one through the day, much less a lifetime spent trapped within it. Fräulein von Bernburg changes everything…
“Since that moment everything had been different; everything had acquired a meaning; everything had to be done for her sake, to please her, Fräulein von Bernburg. There was nothing unconnected with her, and the day was governed no longer by the ringing of a bell but by the voice of Fräulein von Bernburg.” (Winslow 198).
All at once, Manuela’s reason for existence is turned on its head. In a world with so little to live for, meeting von Bernburg gives her a reason to live. She begins to worship her teacher, romanticizing her and obsessing over her so much that when she’s ultimately forced to leave, Manuela is driven to suicide.
I’ve seen both German versions of the film adaptation, “Mädchen in Uniform”, as well as the Spanish remake, “Muchachas de Uniform”, and in each, the handling of the ending differs slightly. Most significantly, none of the films end with Manuela’s death. Instead, Manuela’s ultimate despair is depicted only as a thwarted attempt to take her own life. By not ending with her death, a more hopeful chord is struck about the future of punishment and of homosexuality in general. Although it was absolutely heartbreaking to read such a deviation from the ending I’d expected in the book, a part of me understands why Winsloe chose to end it this way. Continuing with the “mirror to society” analogy, Manuela’s suicide acts as a warning for what can happen if people aren’t allowed to live and love freely.
The connection I felt to Manuela in the films made each story that much more powerful to me. I could understand her anguish over the impossibility of her situation so clearly to a degree that very few know…. Now in a different headspace, reading the book wasn’t quite as moving for me (but perhaps that’s why?). It wasn’t just the furthered themes of abuse shown throughout that I didn’t like, but I felt like the writing wasn’t as strong as the film’s acting. Manuela felt SO young as a fourteen-year-old, and I didn’t like that von Bernburg’s character was frequently equated to her mom, which made me feel more than slightly uncomfortable, lol.
Overall, I’d recommend starting with the 1958 German film adaption and then working backwards to the book if you want more. Actresses Lili Palmer, Romy Schneider, Dorothea Wieck, and Hertha Thiele are all fabulous and their portrayals will always hold a special place in my heart.
Manuela’s story feels like it’s simultaneously frozen in time and transcending it. It has all the right amounts of heartbreak, friendship, and longing and if you can look past its obvious flaws, I recommend watching or reading it.
I also recommend the 12-part podcast “The Kiss” by Bibi Berlin for a further exploration of the behind-the-scenes behind the story’s creation because it is equally fascinating. I have a feeling this story will stick with me for a long time…
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 15, 2021
Well, I guess a story written in the early 30s couldn't be gay and have a happy ending.
Despite this work's status as one of the earliest lesbian works in the Weimar Republic and the author's remarkable life story, I sadly didn't really enjoy this book.
It was so depressing, which I generally don't appreciate in books. Still, I'm glad I read this.
I didn't expect the queer themes to be so overt, so that was a pleasant surprise.
The writting was easy to read and didn't feel old-fashioned but I didn't like how the story jumped from scene to scene.
Despite this work's status as one of the earliest lesbian works in the Weimar Republic and the author's remarkable life story, I sadly didn't really enjoy this book.
It was so depressing, which I generally don't appreciate in books. Still, I'm glad I read this.
I didn't expect the queer themes to be so overt, so that was a pleasant surprise.
The writting was easy to read and didn't feel old-fashioned but I didn't like how the story jumped from scene to scene.
May 22, 2023
A ver el libro tiene valor histórico, que es del 1933 y escrito por una lesbiana, pero entre las faltas ortográficas, los errores semánticos de la traducción y la planicie de los personajes… idk.
Edit: viendo el resto de reviews, me empiezo a plantear si ha sido la traducción, porque de verdad no entiendo como tanta gente le pone 5 estrellas.
Edit: viendo el resto de reviews, me empiezo a plantear si ha sido la traducción, porque de verdad no entiendo como tanta gente le pone 5 estrellas.
February 15, 2025
La historia en si es interesante, muy buena, pero la redacción no termina de gustarme. Hace unos saltos de escena muy bruscos que no terminan de encajarme y que, para mi gusto, dificultan la lectura.
April 13, 2021
This is a very interesting book, it caused me a confusion of feelings, as literature did not excite me very much but at the same time it is a simple, delicate story, a coming of age novel that accompanies the protagonist Manuela from a baby until her adolescence, these banal events or striking as the mother's death leaves a profound mark on her personality and on how she carries these longings, desires, discoveries that do not correspond to that of a girl seen as the "little princess of the family". Her lonely path, homeless, without family, her inner world crumbling, in a religious / repressive military environment that does not tolerate any slight deviation, from what is expected of a "woman", of her time, is distressing.
And of course we have the love for another woman, who, although beautiful and innocent, was overshadowed by the desire to be free and find her place in the world of Manuela.
" So take my hands and take me to my happy ending. "
And of course we have the love for another woman, who, although beautiful and innocent, was overshadowed by the desire to be free and find her place in the world of Manuela.
" So take my hands and take me to my happy ending. "
March 30, 2013
A wonderfully heart wrenching story which, as the pioneering 1931 adaption, speaks with fervour. Unlike the film, though, in the book Manuela doesn't arrive at the boarding school until halfway through the story. "The Child Manuela" offers a story on Manuela's childhood, but to me the most interesting character is still that of Elisabeth von Bernburg. The book casts more light on those ambiguous actions of hers as experienced in the movie, but the book, as well as the movie allows only sparse glimpses into the heart of the woman behind that stern, restrained figure. Even after having finished reading she left me somewhat baffled...
January 17, 2020
Heartbreaking, honest, autobiographical narration, about an orphan girl's obsession with two older women, potentially mother substitutes. No wonder why this masterpiece inspired two excellent German-language movies (1931, 1958) and another one, South American. It contains so much tragedy, loneliness, suffering and repression. After all it is about the growing up of a Prussian girl who later became a lesbian rights activist and part of antinazi resistance. The author died pretty young, but at least she managed to tell her story in a brilliant, warm manner. Haunting. Not suitable for readers suffering from depression.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 4, 2021
What a sad, interesting, and deeply moving book. The story takes place 120 years ago during the time of the German Empire. I am so grateful to Christa Winsloe for having written this book. I want to show it to my grandmother, who claims that LGBT+ people are a "modern phenomenon." Lela is one of the queerest characters I have ever encountered, and her story deeply moved me. I wish there were a sequel to this where she finds happiness with Fräulein von Bernburg at least for a few years in the Weimar Republic.
Want to read
March 18, 2009Apparently this was the basis for one of the earliest (1932!) lesbian-themed films made. I'll bite...
October 26, 2016
Dieses Buch hat mich sehr berührt.
July 21, 2022
je pourrais mourrir pour ce livre
December 7, 2025
This is the novel of the plays etc written in 1931 by this German prominent gay author. I have not seen the film of the cover - I understand the film like the book had some controversy due to the somewhat overt lesbian backdrop.
So the narrative is set in pre-WW1 (1901) but was absorbed as hinting to pre-WW2 of course at the publication. The first half of the book is the background and military family of Manuela (14); she is not appreciated and when mother dies is sent to a convent school where she falls for nun Elizabeth von Bernberg.
It is finely written and sad for the themes presented but I really can't see why everyone has rated this so highly. The father is not an ogre or malevolent likened to the Nazis, ok he's selfish and career minded but he's not a brutal dictator; the convent school is absolutely not repressive, ok it's disciplined boarding school but this is no Magdalene laundry or Dickensian workhouse for kids. The lesbian theme is worth reading the book for but the tale is rather lacking in passion and emotion, and there is minimal, if any, corporal punishment, no teenage pregnancy or boyfriends, no religion properly examined on being gay, no religious person agonizing on being gay or wrong feelings, no parental engagement of the outing of a gay person.
Lackluster.
So the narrative is set in pre-WW1 (1901) but was absorbed as hinting to pre-WW2 of course at the publication. The first half of the book is the background and military family of Manuela (14); she is not appreciated and when mother dies is sent to a convent school where she falls for nun Elizabeth von Bernberg.
It is finely written and sad for the themes presented but I really can't see why everyone has rated this so highly. The father is not an ogre or malevolent likened to the Nazis, ok he's selfish and career minded but he's not a brutal dictator; the convent school is absolutely not repressive, ok it's disciplined boarding school but this is no Magdalene laundry or Dickensian workhouse for kids. The lesbian theme is worth reading the book for but the tale is rather lacking in passion and emotion, and there is minimal, if any, corporal punishment, no teenage pregnancy or boyfriends, no religion properly examined on being gay, no religious person agonizing on being gay or wrong feelings, no parental engagement of the outing of a gay person.
Lackluster.
November 2, 2021
Una historia absolutamente desgarradora. Parece que nadie a lo largo de la novela se da cuenta de que Manuela va acumulando eventos traumáticos que la van sacudiendo hasta que no ve otra forma de liberarse que no sea el suicidio.
La profesora de la que supuestamente se enamora no es más que la gota que colma el vaso en su enturbiada mente. La muerte de su hermano, la de su madre, la figura tan ausente del padre…He llorado al sentir la emoción de la niña al no poder más, al sentirse incomprendida y apartada del mundo.
Más que una novela romántica, que no lo es ni por asomo, es un llamamiento a la libertad de expresión, al derecho a sanidad mental (si, sanidad mental, porque la niña estaba traumatizada perdida) por la que tanto se está luchando hoy día. Parece que las cosas no han cambiado tanto en estos últimos siglos, ¿no? Aún hay cosas que a día de hoy siguen siendo un tabú para nuestra sociedad.
Nadie debería esconderse por ser diferente, nadie debería desear desaparecer por ello. 😢
La profesora de la que supuestamente se enamora no es más que la gota que colma el vaso en su enturbiada mente. La muerte de su hermano, la de su madre, la figura tan ausente del padre…He llorado al sentir la emoción de la niña al no poder más, al sentirse incomprendida y apartada del mundo.
Más que una novela romántica, que no lo es ni por asomo, es un llamamiento a la libertad de expresión, al derecho a sanidad mental (si, sanidad mental, porque la niña estaba traumatizada perdida) por la que tanto se está luchando hoy día. Parece que las cosas no han cambiado tanto en estos últimos siglos, ¿no? Aún hay cosas que a día de hoy siguen siendo un tabú para nuestra sociedad.
Nadie debería esconderse por ser diferente, nadie debería desear desaparecer por ello. 😢
December 2, 2023
Wonderful book related to the best film ever, Mädchen in Uniform (1931.)
The TRANSLATION, however, is NOT RELIABLE. "Higher" language, past instead of present where it exists, a lot of minor changes, several facts are omitted (such as the brans Lindt, favourite chocolate of Manuela's Mum), and . . . CENSURE.
Free correct translation by me can be read HERE: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439...
Estimated finish of the translation is the end of 2023.
The book is semi-autobiography of the writer about time since birth up to time at boarding school (a pupil is in love with her female teacher mutually.) The feelings are described in the book in detail (unlike in the film.) Also, a crush on much older girl at a regular school, and on somebody else of the same gender too (no spoilers who) (yes, before THE teacher.)
The TRANSLATION, however, is NOT RELIABLE. "Higher" language, past instead of present where it exists, a lot of minor changes, several facts are omitted (such as the brans Lindt, favourite chocolate of Manuela's Mum), and . . . CENSURE.
Free correct translation by me can be read HERE: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439...
Estimated finish of the translation is the end of 2023.
The book is semi-autobiography of the writer about time since birth up to time at boarding school (a pupil is in love with her female teacher mutually.) The feelings are described in the book in detail (unlike in the film.) Also, a crush on much older girl at a regular school, and on somebody else of the same gender too (no spoilers who) (yes, before THE teacher.)
January 3, 2024
If like me you've just watched one of the films and you're desperate for more, then this book is for you. The book is essentially split in half, Manuelas time at school and the time before, starting from when she was born. It really adds another layer of depth to the film, you come to know and understand Manuela in a way that makes her feel more real and sympathetic. You also learn more about von Bernberg and her perspective, her feelings are much more mutual I'd say than expressed in the film. But by god the end! This book was a journey and it wasn't the happiest, but I do recommend it, regardless of whether you've seen the film or not.
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