Fiction – paperback; Harper Collins; 205 pages; 2022.
The dark side of competitive gymnastics is explored in this fast-paced story by Ilaria Bernardini, an Italian novelist who writes in English.
The Girls Are Good is narrated by Martina, a teenage girl taking part in an elite international competition being held in Romania, whose cynical voice acts as a form of armour.
She’s the least accomplished of the girls in her team and comes from a much poorer background; there’s the constant feeling that she’s not good enough and never will be, and yet, as the reader comes to discover a little later on, she’s been brave enough to speak out about the abuses happening in her squad.
That abuse is sexual and, initially, is only hinted at:
[As gymnasts] Our body is our most precious possession. That’s why we live and travel with a physio. And that’s why we have daily sessions with him. In theory, the sessions are there to protect our most precious possession. In reality, it’s in there that it all gets broken.
Martina explains how the girls are in a constant battle against puberty; that to achieve success in the sport their bodies must remain small and undeveloped. They can control some of this through diet — they are all anorexic to some degree — but they can’t stop themselves from getting tall or developing breasts.
She-who-puts-on-weight is done for. She-who-grows-tall is done for. She-who-grows-boobs, done for, unless she can endure very tight wrapping.
To help her cope, Martina has little rituals — or obsessive-compulsive tics — that she carries out. She taps things twice and pulls the zipper of her jacket up and down ten times in a row, all in a bid to achieve success.
Maybe we are all a bit obsessive […] and in the end we usually all turn a blind eye to each other’s monsters and manias and we’ll pretty much take any spell that we think will make us win and not die.
During the trip, Martina is forced to share a room with Carla and Nadia, the two best (and meanest) gymnasts in the squad who have an almost claustrophobic symbiotic relationship going on. They share a bed and are so close, physically and mentally, that they shut everyone else out, increasing Martina’s sense of isolation and “otherness” even more.
The story is structured over the seven days of competition — from Monday to Sunday — and is set up in the style of a literary thriller.
The page-turning danger comes in many different forms, including the risk of death from an accident on the high beams or pommel horse and the ongoing sexualisation and pedophilia that exists in the sport. But it actually ends in the grisly murder of a rival competitor.
While the premise is intriguing (it’s what drew me to the book in the first place), I found the ending a bit of a let down. What I did like was the voice of the narrator — cynical, matter-of-fact, free from sentimentality or any emotion at all — and the insider’s look at the brutal side of a sport that looks beautiful from the outside.
The Girls Are Good is about the pursuit of perfection and the risks that come with it. It’s about the destructive force of obsessive friendships and the ways in which girls can be silenced by those supposedly responsible for their care.
It’s not a pretty story. The near total absence of adults in this book and the claustrophobic and cruel world presented, with its deep-seated “traditions” and acceptance of immoral or questionable behaviour, is both shocking and stomach-churning.
There is absolutely no sense of redemption.
Apparently, the book has been optioned by Indigo productions along with All 3Media (the company behind Fleabag) for an eight-part TV series.
14 thoughts on “‘The Girls Are Good’ by Ilaria Bernardini”
This would interest me too kimbofo …. And the fact that you like the voice makes it more appealing.
The voice is very well done, but the subject matter is a bit icky
I reckon …. The subject matter I mean.
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This sounds awful, I don’t mean the book, I mean what goes on. It’s like ballet, which requires women to destroy their feet dancing en pointe, whereas men don’t. Or like boxing, which gives people brain damage. I don’t understand why it’s allowed, and I’ll never understand why the audience witnessing it tolerate it.
Agreed. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the US gymnastics sex scandal. I think people tolerate it because they simply don’t know. So much of this has been kept hidden from the public…
Yes, tho’ a sex scandal can be put down to one person’s evil behaviour and can be prevented whereas this is inherent abuse: all kids doing this so-called sport experience it; as all ballerinas ruin their feet and all boxers get some kind of brain damage. But sport — especially Olympic sport — is a very powerful lobby. It’s all very well to say adults can make their own choice about pushing their bodies to the limit but it’s different for children. I think sport needs to take a long hard look at itself, it’s marketed as a Universal Good, and it’s not.
The TV series sounds like child porn to me. I’m not sure how we will ever separate some of these “sports’ from paedophilia.
And I’m sure secret too genetic enhancement for preferred body types is just around the corner. One of my daughters missed out on the Australia Ballet School because it looked like she was developing, and ironically, she stayed tiny into her thirties.
Yes, I’m not sure I actually want to watch the TV adaptation
Not having the remotest interest in gymnastics, I doubt if this one’s for me. It sounds a depressing read in depressing times.
It’s not so much depressing as sad. I really felt for Martina and the way she is trapped. She makes a complaint about her abuser and nothing is done about it because her coach, who is female, chooses not to act. It’s just awful. But probably very realistic.
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I’d read about this and it appealed to me very much. I’ve always assumed that the world of professional gymnastics must be a minefield for young women.
If this story is any indication of the truth behind the sport I would not let anyone, male or female, take part. Or I would be heavily policing it or putting in rules so children are never left alone with a single adult.
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This reminds me of Dare Me by Megan Abbott, which was a psychodrama all about cheerleading, full of anorexia and bulimia, but not the paedophilia thankfully. This novel sounds even more gruesome.
I can imagine cheerleading would be highly sexualised. Remember that Kevin Spacey film, American Beauty!?
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