Excellent Women (1952)

If was okay. But I couldn't be bothered to read the whole thing. A bit tedious. ( )

Mildred’s very ordinary spinster life. She is a “good woman” helping others and self effacing. Does not stand up for herself. Gently witty. ( )

Barbara Pym writes a searing parody of spinsterhood in this witty yet sad novel. It reminds me a bit of Mansfield Park in that the main character cannot seem to get out of her own way, at times. It's brilliant in the dissatisfaction we feel with the character's life, but it still is discomfiting. Highly so. I liked this novel, but it's not Pym's most delightful, nor her funniest. ( )

(2020 has become my year of rereading the novels of Barbara Pym, my favourite novelist - "favourite" in the sense of "speaks most to my soul", not as in "greatest" or "best"; I believe she would have appreciated the distinction. This is my revised review.)

Mildred Lathbury, the protagonist of Barbara Pym's most accessible novel, is - I think - often used as a stand-in for Pym herself, even though I can't quite imagine Mildred having some of Barbara's youthful indiscretions. Certainly, though, I sometimes feel I am Mildred... and I'm a thirtysomething male! Perhaps this is the success of Excellent Women.

The worlds of Barbara Pym novels are usually small; here, indeed, we centre around a youngish spinster, her vicar and his sister, and a collection of anthropologists who have spent so much time examining the practices of other cultures that they are loath to entirely commit to the standard practices of their own. Pym's insight is as sharp as a pin, and her wit stabs like one too.

I sometimes hear Pym compared to another classic 20th century Brit, Anthony Powell (whom she read frequently) but I think there is a clear difference. Powell's characters, in his legendary A Dance to the Music of Time sequence, seem to be in the process of realising that life isn't entirely the tea party privileged young white people are promised. Pym's characters, on the other hand, open the book already aware of this. It is our privilege to watch them deal with this understanding, and seek a way to move forward in spite of it. Mildred's feeling on having to share a bathroom with fellow tenants at her stage in life, for example, is not quite horror, it's just resignation with a hint of self-doubt, and an occasional flutter (usually suppressed) of hope for a better outcome in future.

Amidst the barbs and sighs of Pym's characters, we are witnessing a fantastic cultural document, an entire world unfolding before our eyes. And in every interaction, the missed moments, the unintentional disparagement, the self-doubt amplified into pain and suffering. Unusually for a Pym novel, Excellent Women is in the first person, meaning that we miss out on one of her most sublime talents, an almost post-modern approach to point-of-view, where the author flits disarmingly between characters, allowing us to adapt to one way of thinking before we are rudely reminded that what is logical to one person is absurdity to another.

"Bittersweet" is an easy adjective to describe the end of most of Pym's novels, but perhaps - like the post-war rationing English cuisine that fills her early books - the taste is better described as "tasty but practical". Not overly rich, sometimes making do with a substitute ingredient, and a cheap bottle of wine from the store down the street to go with one's solitary meal. But you know (most of the time) that things will feel a bit better in the morning, with crumpets and tea by the fire. ( )

Published on 1952, this novel looks at Mildred Lathbury, one of the “excellent women” that post-War England so depended on. Single and often with private income, they kept the churches and other volunteer organizations and schools going—and the men in charge of these organizations depended on them. But these women are not considered marriage material—Mildred thinks it is because they are so capable. And she spends a lot of time thinking about marriage. Yet even with 3 prospects nothing moves forward. Meanwhile, she has a lot of not-nice thoughts about her spinster friends and their spinster traits (which she seems unaware that she shares).

This is supposed to be comedic, but I found it more dull and sad than anything. It is very dated, but does give an interesting snapshot of post-War London. ( )