Fiction – paperback; Penguin; 238 pages; 1981.
First published in 1952, Barbara Pym’s Excellent Women is, indeed, an excellent novel.
Set in post-war London, it tells the story of Mildred Lathbury, unmarried and in her early 30s, who is an “excellent woman”— dependable, reliable and the type of person who puts others before herself. She’s capable and independent, having had to look after herself following the death of her parents, and now her life in a dreary Pimlico flat consists primarily of her voluntary work helping gentlewomen who have fallen on bad times, running jumble sales and going to church.
But Miss Lathbury’s quiet and settled life is thrown into turmoil when new neighbours, the Napiers, move in downstairs. Helena is an anthropologist; Rockingham is a lieutenant in the Navy. She’s having an affair with a colleague, Everard Bone; he’s a handsome, debonair ladies’ man who has spent 18 months in Italy charming a succession of Wrens.
When the Napiers befriend Miss Lathbury her first reaction is to remain aloof; she doesn’t want the hassle of making small talk with people she bumps into on the stairs. But eventually, she thaws toward them, is drawn into their rather busy lives and is thrust into a new social circle outside of her normal Christian one.
This brings with it various complications, but it also adds a frisson of excitement, for when Rockingham pays her attention it’s hard to know what his real intentions are. Then there’s Everard, who’s fallen out with Helena, and may well be casting a roving eye in Miss Lathbury’s direction, while her friend, the vicar, seems to be falling for his new lodger — the glamorous widow Allegra, who doesn’t seem to be as lovely as everyone thinks. Where will it all end?
A gentle comedy
The best way to describe Excellent Women is to say it’s a gentle comedy. It also has a dash of romance, a smidgen of scandal and a little bit of intrigue. This all adds up to a rather poignant and, at times, rather refreshing read, for in this tale of a spinster with no real desire to marry we find a heroine who remains true to herself while having her eyes opened to other ways of living.
Miss Lathbury doesn’t suffer fools — and most of the men in her life are exactly that. As the novel progresses, she increasingly becomes weighed down by the realisation that society expects her to behave in a certain way; that she’s burdened by being single. And yet, as she becomes immersed in the lives of the men in her social circle, she begins to long for something else, some greater meaning, even if she’s not quite sure what form that should take.
You can’t help but wonder whether she hankers for her previous life where “fighting over a little matter like wearing hats in chapel” was the most she had to contend with:
But then I told myself that, after all, life was like that for most of us — the small unpleasantnesses rather than the great tragedies: the little useless longings rather than the great renunciations and dramatic love affairs of history or fiction.
London life in the 1940s
As much as I enjoyed this simple story of a woman caught up in other people’s messy lives, I also enjoyed the period setting. This is post-war London where the city is dotted with bomb sites (one half of the church Miss Lathbury worships at is in ruins), rationing is still in place, religion offers a sense of community and purpose to people’s lives (the rivalry between High Church and Roman Catholics provides some of the more comic moments in this novel), everyone’s obsessed with class and pecking orders, and there’s nothing a good cup of tea won’t sort.
Perhaps there can be too much making of cups of tea, I thought, as I watched Miss Statham filling the heavy teapot. Did we really need a cup of tea? I even said as much to Miss Statham and she looked at me with a hurt, almost angry look, ‘Do we need tea?’ she echoed. ‘But Miss Lathbury…’ She sounded puzzled and distressed and I began to realise that my question had struck at something deep and fundamental. It was the kind of question that starts a landslide in the mind. I mumbled something about making a joke and that of course one needed tea always, at every hour of the day or night.
Thanks to Claire from my book group for choosing this book to read. It was rather delightful and as thought-provoking as it was charming. Recommendations for other Pym novels to try are warmly welcomed in the comment box below!
‘Excellent Women’ by Barbara Pym, first published in 1952, is listed in Peter Boxall’s 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die, where it is described as an “exquisitely crafted work” full of “poignancy and comedy”.
It’s so delightful to see another person discovering Barbara Pym for the first time. I have loved her work ever since my university days (long ago now) when a fellow student recommended her. In her quiet way she is brilliantly funny and acerbic…the delights of this book (her best, I think, though they are all wonderful) are in the small things. The biography of her by Hazel Holt is excellent, her diaries make great reading, and all her novels are a delight.
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Thanks for your comment, Christine. Yes, it’s the small things, the little details, that makes this novel such a rich and rewarding read. The dialogue is also very good. I will definitely hunt out more of her work; I’m surprised it took me so long to get to this one, which has been sitting on my shelves for at least a decade!
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How lovely to see someone discovering Pym for the first time! Oh joy! I’ve loved her since my teens and would recommend any of her books, although Quartet in Autumn is quite dark and sad. Sparkling and melancholy and funny and so many peculiar characters. Love her!
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Dark and sad works for me, Liz!
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Isn’t it astonishing how much our expectations of single women changed over a very short period, basically between 1950 and 1970. The quiet spinster with a private income barely exists now.
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Well, I know lots of “quiet spinsters” the same age as me but they’re career women and don’t have private incomes. 😉
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I guess I was thinking about women in fiction, and also that there’s not the same pressure to be virtuous. I’ll stop there before I put my whole leg in my mouth.
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😂 I do know what you mean… chick lit is all about “spinsters” finding a marriage partner. I liked Excellent Women because Mildred realises a man is not the solution.
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Lovely review! This was the first Pym I read, and I liked it very much – particularly for the atmosphere and the sense of place and time. I read several more, but in the end I found that I was reading too many too closely together. Nevertheless, she’s definitely worth reading – a lovely, witty writer.
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The sense of place and time really works in this novel. I really like books (and films) set in post-war London. There’s definitely something very evocative of that era. Hard to imagine today what it was like then with bombed out buildings still in ruins etc.
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Interestingly, that post-war thing hung around – when I was small, growing up in the 1960s, there were still ruined air raid shelters on a deserted housing area-turned local woods.
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I can imagine that… I still remember my first day working at IPC Media and they took me into the archives to see the bound volumes of all the magazines and when I pointed to one that had metal sticking out of it they told me it was shrapnel from the Blitz!!
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Great review, Kim – you really capture the essence of this lovely novel! I couldn’t help but feel for Mildred as she gets dragged into everyone else’s worries and problems. EW was my first Pym, and it probably remains the most satisfying of the three I’ve read to date. If you’re interested in trying another, then I would definitely recommend her early novel, Crampton Hodnet, published posthumously in 1985. It’s a delight, full of humorous scenes and encounters. I reviewed it earlier this year if you fancy taking a look.
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Thank you Jacqui. Yes, poor Mildred being dragged into everyone’s dramas but she seems to relish it. There’s a quote somewhere (which I can’t now) that goes something along the lines of “it’s an honour to carry everyone’s burdens”. Can you imagine anyone saying that today!? Thanks for the tip off about Crampton Hodnet (such a great name); I will look into it.
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My first Pym was a little too much on the gentle comedy side for me but then I read Quartet in Autumn and loved it – it’s a beautiful, sad tale about loneliness in older age
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That’s a second vote for Quartet in Autumn, so maybe that’s the one to go for. Thanks, Karen.
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I was recommended to read it by Ali (heaven ali)
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Great review – I love the tea quote!
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Thanks Victoria — that quote makes me want to put the kettle on 😉
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