Pymmania - No Fond Return of Love (Spinsters & Vicars eating cold Brussels sprouts in the middle of the night)

1. A Jane Austen-like opening sentence. "There are various ways of mending a broken heart, but perhaps going to a learned conference is one of the more unusual."
2. Two [dim English] spinsters, usually in their mid-thirties (gentle, introverted, shy, quiet, obscure/dark and unhappy, wearing read canvas shoes).
3. London.
4. Curiosity for the lives of others (sometimes extended to the point of silliness).
5. Bittersweet humour.
6. A Man, very good-looking, prone to drinking, user of yeast tablets, stomach powder, hair tonic, hoping to seduce pretty young girls with an animal as it would make a very good ice-breaker.
7. Church of England (of the High Church variety) clergymen (vicars, cassocks, lay readers, organists).
8. Jumble sales.
9. Attention to mundane details (food & meals & clothes & furniture & flowers).
10. People working as editors, proof-correctors or index-makers for small publishing companies or learned journals (performers of thankless, dreary tasks).
11. A Brazilian neighbour speaking with a musical voice, a grey poodle, a young florist whose shop is  (not in the grandest part of) Kensington, a pretty niece doing a secretarial course.
12. An obsession with hot drinks, particularly Ovaltine. 

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 'But you do such a really worthwhile work in your own way,' said Viola fussily. 'It's so vitally important that the standard of true scholarship should be kept up, when you think of all there is to be contended with nowadays.'

'You mean television and the general lowering of standards everywhere?' said Maurice politely.

'Yes, that, among other things,' said Viola rather darkly. 'Aylwin's book on Edmund Lydden will be the definitive study.'

[...]

'Who is he?' asked Laurel, feeling that she was the only person young or old enough — in her case young to ask such a question. (page 131)

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{Pym, Barbara, No Fond Return of Love, London, Virago Press, 2009 (First published Jonathan Cape Ltd, 1961) --- Les ingratitudes de l'amour, traduit de l'anglais par Anouk Neuhoff, 1988}

Reading Barbara Pym: Crampton Hodnet

I am still carrying on with Barbara Pym, as I've just finished Crampton Hodnet, one of her early novels, which she mainly wrote during WW2.

It's all about life in North Oxford; a formidable old lady, Miss Doggett, and her companion, meek and mild Miss Morrow, live in a dark Victorian house. Miss Dogget's nephew, Francis Cleveland, teaches seventeenth century poetry and tutors a pretty young girl whom he falls in love with (because he lacks his wife's attention). Life is a tad boring, tea and cake are consumed, social functions and church services are being attended. There's quite a bit of love going on, as well. Kisses exchanged in a library, a conversation in a tool shed, a marriage proposal (refused); and this curious break-up letter:

I expect you have been wondering why I hav'ent answered your letters. The truth is that I have been meaning to write for some time but hav'ent had a moment till now. I think you will agree that is has been evident for some time that we were growing rather weary of each other's company and that it would be no use our continuing to meet under such circumstances. As a matter of fact I have met someone else out here, and it is not unlikely that we shall become engaged in the near future. You must meet her sometime, I'm sure you would be great friends. I do hope this won't be too great a shock to you, dear. You know I would hate to hurt you, but I think you will agree that I have done the kindest thing in telling you the truth. I shall always be awfully glad to see you in Chester Square whenever you happen to be in town. We have had some good times together, hav'ent we? (p. 200-201)

Although it's not Pym's best, it's really a charming text, full of humorous, smart observations on the North Oxfordian comedy of manners. It's also quite light-hearted, if you except the awful remarks Miss Doggett (a real sadist) snaps at her companion. Like this one : "A plain woman no longer young is often the most likely to lose her head." (119)

People eat and cook quite a bit in BP's novels (I guess this is because she's that kind of writer who likes to focus on the smallest details of domestic life). Actually, there's even a BP cookbook (lovely cover art), but it's sadly out of print. I would be curious to have a peek at it someday. In Crampton Hodnet, gooseberries are tailed and topped during a stressful conversation about adultery. (Gooseberries seem to be a very British fruit, for some reason. Here in Brussels, you can buy a lovely gooseberry tart at pâtisserie Renard in Ixelles, but I haven't done that in quite a while.)

If, like me, you're a diehard fan, you can purchase mugs and greeting cards on the BP's Society website. Not so pretty, but quite a bit fun. They also have a newsletter, to which I would love to subscribe (but you have to be a Society member, and I don't feel up to that (and probably never will)).

Photo: smallest detail of my domestic life, but no gooseberries

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{Pym, Barbara, Crampton Hodnet, published posthumously in 1985, written in 1940 --- Crampton Hodnet, traduit de l'anglais par Bernard Turle, Paris, UGE, "10-18 Domaine étranger", 1994}