It was in The Times Literary Supplement in January 1977, in a feature remarkably similar to this one – ‘The Most Underrated Books and Authors’ – that Philip Larkin called for a greater recognition of Barbara Pym’s works, writing of the author, “She has a unique eye and ear for the small poignancies and comedies of everyday life.” So in a sense, this article is sort of redundant – or at least, is about 38 years too late to the party. Larkin’s efforts have probably already somewhat eclipsed anything I could achieve in a meagre Cherwell column; his comments in the TLS led to Pym’s previously marginalised works being re-issued by her publishers, and indeed incited the author herself to compose three new novels before her death in 1980. Pym has now become almost a byword for ‘rediscovered author’, so I won’t pretend to be uncovering anything ‘new’ here; instead, I’ll sing the delightful praises of her bestknown work, the politely amusing Excellent Women.
It helps that my copy of the novel is a beautiful Orla Kiely-covered hardback version; if aesthetically pleasing books are your thing, then this one’s for you. The novel itself is almost as picture-perfect as its cover, with a plot as neatly puttogether as its protagonist, Mildred. The story follows Mildred (an unmarried woman in her 30s – though from the way she presents herself, you’d think she was 50) as she navigates the faintly exciting world of 1950s London, met with such insurmountable crises as – gasp – her next-door neighbours maybe or maybe not getting a divorce, or – shock – the vicar’s new fiancée being a bit mean to the vicar’s sister. OK, so the action doesn’t exactly come thick and fast, but that’s patently not the point of the novel; this perfectly-etched comedy of manners presents us with a world in which what happens is infinitely less interesting than the people to whom things happen.
Jane Austen’s influence on the novel hardly needs emphasising; the characters’ magnification of their little lives to a status of all-encompassing importance echoes Mrs Bennet at her best, while the unfailingly polite narration conceals, in true Austenesque style, a gently mocking smile at the trivialities people mistake for events of utmost seriousness.
Excellent Women won’t blow your mind, it won’t change your life, and it certainly won’t spur you on to go out and perform any acts of earth-shattering importance. However, this also does not mean that I’m not recommending you to read it as soon as possible. I’m heartily of the opinion that we all need a little more non-malicious fun-poking in our lives, and Pym is truly one of the masters of the craft. And, if you need more convincing: Philip Larkin said she was the most underrated novelist of the Twentieth Century – what more invitation do you need?
