I’ll admit I perhaps didn’t come to this book for the most obvious reason. I didn’t actually know anything about Barbara Pym or her books, but have read and enjoyed several biographies by Paula Byrne and so was keen to read this. I’m grateful to NetGalley and Fourth Estate Books for my copy of her latest book in exchange for an honest review.
Barbara Pym was an English novelist whose work falls into two tranches. In the 1950s, she published a number of comic novels before being rejected by her publisher. When, in the 1970s, the poet Philip Larkin and critic Lord David Cecil nominated her as the most underrated novelist of the century, she gained recognition for her work and published further novels, including the Booker Prize nominated ‘Quartet in Autumn’.
This biography of Barbara Pym’s life is based on the extensive diaries she left behind after her death in 1980, plus close readings of the novels themselves. This takes the reader through her childhood, time at Oxford University, wartime service in the Women’s Royal Naval Service, work at the International African Institute and cohabitation with her sister, Hilary Pym. Although she never married, there are numerous love affairs along the way and various unrequited infatuations. All of this is told in a lot of detail – sometimes overwhelmingly so as this is a very long book.
The main thrust of Byrne’s argument is that there was a lot more to Barbara Pym than the rather stuffy and conservative stereotype that saw her books being rejected by publishers in the progressive 1960s. She was considered to be a woman writing about ‘small’ lives in villages, spinsters and vicars, with gentle and middle class humour. Instead, Byrne shows us a more controversial figure who enjoyed sex outside marriage, was fiercely independent, adopted (sometimes bizarre) alter egos depending on her mood and even sympathised with radical political views (demonstrated by her relationship with a Nazi in the 1930s – yeah, more of this in a bit). I personally loved the bits about her relationship with Philip Larkin, someone who I find fascinating and who proved to be instrumental in resurrecting Pym’s literary career. A controversial figure himself, Larkin is presented fairly sympathetically and engagingly.
There’s much to enjoy here if you are a fan of Barbara Pym’s books – they are discussed fairly thoroughly, with interesting links made to Pym’s own biographical details. It isn’t surprising, for example, that she writes about a women being in love with a gay man when her own life was also following this path. Although I wasn’t familiar with the books, I’ll admit the analysis did pique my interest and I’m keen to pick up some of Pym’s earlier, more comedic writing.
Those familiar with Byrne’s writing will recognise the affectionate, fairly informal style with which she treats her subjects – plus the links made to Byrne’s own interests (primarily Jane Austen). I liked the descriptive and slightly whimsical chapter titles – plus they were very helpful in aiding me to navigate the audiobook which I also listened to alongside reading.
I did hit a few niggles though with this book. The repeated use of ‘Miss Pym’ was a little grating in the audiobook and the huge cast of characters meant it was sometimes tricky to remember who was who – I liked that there was a picture section in the book so I could put names to faces. However, my biggest issue was with the way that Pym’s romantic relationship with the Nazi was presented and almost excused – I found this a bit difficult to swallow in a modern context. I do realise that people in the 1930s were perhaps not fully aware of the extent of what was happening in Nazi Germany, but Pym was a regular visitor and Byrne also has the benefit of hindsight with which to condemn the relationship – and doesn’t.
However, these issues do not overshadow what is otherwise an excellent, engaging and accessible look at Barbara Pym’s life and legacy. I’d recommend this to anyone who enjoys biographies of interesting (if not always likeable) figures who were somewhat out of step with the expectations of their day – similarly, I’d point you in the direction of Byrne’s other fantastic biographies on Kick Kennedy (‘Kick’) and Evelyn Waugh (‘Mad World: Evelyn Waugh and the Secrets of Bridehead’).
FInally, a note on the audiobook which is read by Antonia Beamish. Although the reading is well done and fairly lively, she is both frightfully posh (not a problem) and awfully slow (more of an issue). I had to speed her up a bit in order to keep my interest and found a few jarring pronunciations, not least Sylvia Plaaarrrth which threw me a bit. I did like the audiobook but – on reflection – preferred the book with its photo section.
If you’d like a copy of the book or audiobook, please use my affiliate links below – thanks for supporting my blog with any purchases.
I can also thoroughly recommend these books by Paula Byrne (mentioned in my review):
Header photo by Charl Folscher on Unsplash.
