Excellent Women by Barbara Pym
Barbara Pym wrote this, her second novel, in 1952 at a time when she was making a name for herself as an acutely humorous observer of social manners, especially amongst the slightly impoverished genteel classes of post war Britain. In this early phase of her writing career favourable comparisons were made to Jane Austen and she seemed to have established herself as the chronicler of the lives of excellent women such as her protagonist in this book, Mildred Lathbury. The excellent women Pym writes about in this book and elsewhere are commended by the world but with some condescension. They are unmarried and so give more purpose to their lives by supporting useless men, doing good deeds in the community usually via the local church and behaving with a quiet and dignified gentility. Their unmarried state and limited career opportunities invariably mean that they have to watch the pennies, live in slightly underwhelming rented rooms whilst maintaining an air of middle class propriety.
When we meet Mildred at the start of this novel she fits the bill perfectly - she is an excellent woman, who has a part time job helping gentlewomen fallen on hard times; she spends much of her time going to church services, helping out at church events and taking tea with the vicar, Julian, and his sister who live together in comfortable domesticity - especially comfortable for him. There is underlying sense that perhaps Mildred and Julian might move to a more formalised relationship based mainly on their sharing of these mundane routines rather than any spark of passion. After all, the biggest underlying assumption of society in this novel is that women like Mildred are lacking in some way because they are unmarried; to be deemed an excellent woman is therefore a form of consolation prize.
The novel is written from Mildred’s perspective and her voice emerges clearly. Here’s where the book takes off because like a spirited Austen heroine, Mildred has depths. She is perceptive and emotionally intelligent. Her internalised asides are often slightly waspish and there is a great deal of quiet humour in this book. Although we learn that she is only in her early thirties, Mildred seems to have accepted that marriage may no longer be possible for her and that she has a duty to cultivate her qualities as an excellent woman. Pym nevertheless creates the subtle impression that Mildred is not quite ready to entirely give up on a wider, more fulfilling life - and that is the scenario explored when a new couple move in to the adjoining flat to hers in the slightly down at heel and less fashionable London district where the story is set.
Her new neighbours, Rocky and Helena fascinate and discombobulate her. Their presence gives her a glimpse of the different existence she sometimes desires, but their unconventional, disorganised relationship exemplifies the emotional insecurity and disturbance that she has resiled from in her carefully controlled, independent life. Rocky is a handsome charmer with verve and dash but his social skills are just that and lack depth or sincerity. He also seems to lack purpose after a glamorous role in the navy, albeit removed from danger, during the war. Mildred is attracted to him but sees through his shallow nature. However, she is drawn into her neighbours’ life, and somehow in her role as an excellent woman has to mediate between them as their marriage falters.
In many respects, Helena is a woman that Pym and Mildred should and, in some respects, do admire. She is an archaeologist, with intellect and a passion for her subject. She is, however, a disorganised housewife who can’t cook and doesn’t really care. So, a black mark there as regards the conservative, traditional milieu of the novel.
The novel centres not only on Mildred’s involvement with this glamorous but unconventional couple but also Helena’s friend from the archaeology world, Everard Bone. He is also handsome but has a seriousness of nature in contrast to the lightness of Rocky. Despite a lack of warmth and any spark of passion, a companionable relationship develops between Mildred and Everard – they find it agreeable and easy to talk with one another. Is that enough, though? Or perhaps she should turn her support for Rocky during his marital troubles into something more? This would, of course, be just the sort of dramatic leap that might be rooted in passion but, as her intellect tells her, is fraught with problems. The problem is that the safer, more conventional option with Julian – Mildred is the daughter of a clergyman – is slipping away. A clergyman’s widow, glamorous and attractive, moves into one of the adjoining rented rooms and Julian is snared. Like all the useless men, he can’t see the disruption that she will bring to his comfortable, well-ordered existence.
And there you have it, of course, three potential partners for Mildred but all with difficulties. And the biggest difficulty of all is that Mildred seems to have too much intelligence and too much self-respect to compromise her future…or does she?
There is no doubt that this is an excellently written book, with acute psychological insights and many quotable observations from the perceptive Mildred. Typical is this insight she articulates after she has allowed herself, with a mixture of fascinated distaste, to get involved in her neighbours’ marital affairs: “I pulled myself up and told myself to stop these ridiculous thoughts, wondering why it is that we can never stop trying to analyse the motives of people who have no personal interest in us, in the vain hope of finding that perhaps they may have just a little after all.”
I mentioned that this novel was written during a golden period for her novels but as the sixties happened she was dropped by her publisher and spent several years in the literary wilderness until she was championed by Philip Larkin in the 1970s and had a final late career flourish. I can see why she was considered to be a novelist whose time had passed. These small lives of people who had grown up with manners and expectations from a stultifying pre-war age must have seemed outmoded to readers of the kitchen sink novelists, Fleming and even Kingsley Amis. I felt some of that myself; but most of us have ordinary lives made extraordinary by the bonds of love, family and friendships we develop, and most of us dream. Pym chronicles these lives with some skill. That being said, I think Pym wants her cake and eats it. Mildred fits the excellent woman stereotype but her voice tells us she is something more. The protagonist Pym creates would, I believe, have found a way out; then again, perhaps I am projecting my distinctly post 1950s sensibility on to the book.