‘Could one write a book based on one’s diaries over thirty years? I certainly have enough material,’ wrote Barbara Pym. This book, selected from the diaries, notebooks and letters of this much loved novelist to form a continuous narrative, is indeed a unique autobiography, providing a privileged insight into a writer’s mind. Philip Larkin wrote that Barbara Pym had ‘a uniq
‘Could one write a book based on one’s diaries over thirty years? I certainly have enough material,’ wrote Barbara Pym. This book, selected from the diaries, notebooks and letters of this much loved novelist to form a continuous narrative, is indeed a unique autobiography, providing a privileged insight into a writer’s mind. Philip Larkin wrote that Barbara Pym had ‘a unique eye and ear for the small poignancies of everyday life’. Her autobiography amply demonstrates this, as it traces her life from exuberant times at Oxford in the thirties, through the war when, scarred by an unhappy love affair, she joined the WRNS, to the published novelist of the fifties. It also deals with the long period when her novels were out of fashion and no one would publish them, her rediscovering in 1977, and the triumphant success of her last few years. It is now possible to describe a place, situation or person as ‘very Barbara Pym’. A Very Private Eye, at once funny and moving, shows the variety and depth of her own story.
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Kindle Edition
,
424 pages
Published
November 21st 2013
by Bello
(first published 1984)
I've suddenly found myself enchanted with Barbara Pym's novels, and couldn't resist reading this collection of her journals, letters and notes, edited by her sister and her executor. Her writing and distinct Pymness in these texts is just as delightful as in her novels. She comes across as kind and funny, with a sharp wit and enough of a temper to keep things interesting; the kind of gal you'd want for your bestie. Along with, say, Emma Thompson.
The diary entries from her time at Oxford are ful
I've suddenly found myself enchanted with Barbara Pym's novels, and couldn't resist reading this collection of her journals, letters and notes, edited by her sister and her executor. Her writing and distinct Pymness in these texts is just as delightful as in her novels. She comes across as kind and funny, with a sharp wit and enough of a temper to keep things interesting; the kind of gal you'd want for your bestie. Along with, say, Emma Thompson.
The diary entries from her time at Oxford are full of strolls along the river with her beaus ("Much semi-nakedness to be seen"), luncheon parties ("the girls were too intellectual and didn't have the compensation of being of the opposite sex"), sherry parties ("very much as sherry parties usually are...noise of talking and a radiogramophone makes all conversation impossible").
On Henry, the handsome rogue she falls madly in love with: ""He has twinkling (but not pleasantly twinkling) eyes, like a duck's I think. And what a mouth! He is able to curl it in the most fascinating repulsive sneering smile... He talks curiously but very waffily - is very affected. Something wrong with his mouth I think - he can't help snurging".
Although she doesn't mind snuggling with the occasional German: "...because Anton was German I didn't feel as if I were being unfaithful to my real love. Somehow I could never take a German very seriously, but they are glorious to flirt with!"
And of course, her academic endeavors are dutifully described:
"An amusing lecture in the morning - Professor Tolkien on Beowulf [...] Spent the evening variously. I had to decide between giving my face a steam beauty bath and doing "Beowulf". I chose the former, and I think the result justified my choice".
A Very Private Eye is a collection of Barbara Pym's letters and journals edited by her sister, Hilary, and her friend and literary executrix, Hazel Holt. As the spinoff from my online Trollope group (called otherlit) has been reading our way through Pym's novels, I've been reading my way through this collection, trying to stay at about the period in her life when the book we are reading was published.
In about 1970 Pym's publishers decided that no one would buy novels like hers and despite the he
A Very Private Eye is a collection of Barbara Pym's letters and journals edited by her sister, Hilary, and her friend and literary executrix, Hazel Holt. As the spinoff from my online Trollope group (called otherlit) has been reading our way through Pym's novels, I've been reading my way through this collection, trying to stay at about the period in her life when the book we are reading was published.
In about 1970 Pym's publishers decided that no one would buy novels like hers and despite the help of friends in the literary world none of her books were accepted for publication between then and 1977.
She tried to stay hopeful for a time and continued writing but eventually as the years went by her writing slowed and she became depressed. "Every now and then I feel gloomy about it all and wonder if anybody will want to publish anything of mine again."
Writing had been the heart of her life. She always carried a small journal with her and noted little scenes in tea shops or standing in a line for a bus or at a lecture and worked these things into her novels. She still kept notes but fewer and with not much hope that she would be writing a novel into which to weave these observations.
For those of us who love her novels and find the author herself a charming and attractive woman it is heartbreaking to read of those years, her occasional mention of publishers who have returned her manuscripts, the fact that she has put away a nearly finished novel as unpublishable. It is especially hard to read of her slowing down and writing less and less. In a world where the best seller list was composed of John Grisham, Patricia Cornwell, and Robert Ludlum it was difficult to sell a subtle, sophisticated, and dryly witty novel no matter how well written.
All of this changed suddenly in January of 1977 when a Times Literary Supplement article asking famous literary figures to name the most underrated novelists of the time. Only one author was mentioned twice, by Philip Larkin and by Lord David Cecil: Barbara Pym. Immediately publishers wanted to see her manuscripts, the BBC wanted to interview her, photographers called to make appointments to photograph her. Her next novel, Quartet in Autumn, was nominated for a Booker. Finally the worth of her work was recognized and she became well known. It was worthwhile to write again.
As we read these pages of the memoir, we know that she was going to die soon and would have very little time to enjoy this resurgence. She shined up some novels written earlier and she wrote another novel, but didn't have time to do a second draft before she died of cancer in January 1980.
The book is full of vignettes as she goes to tea with Lord David or attends church with a friend from college years. She says in a journal note, "I find it is pleasanter to observe these things rather than actually participate in them." She was an astute observer.
Before re-reading Pym's novels one after the other I hadn't really noticed all of the humor and the satire and the occasional cynicism in her work. We have just finished the last of her novels published before the dry years. Her darker novels are ahead of us.
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At the risk of repeating myself – I’m really rather bad at reading non-fiction. I have to admit that even when reading a non-fiction book I am really enjoying that there are moments I long for fiction. The fault is all mine, my mind wanders and I get, what I can only call the readers equivalent to the fidgets.
So bearing that in mind, I did enjoy this autobiography in diaries and letters, but there were moments when I enjoyed it more than at others. That is no criticism of the work – I must stre
At the risk of repeating myself – I’m really rather bad at reading non-fiction. I have to admit that even when reading a non-fiction book I am really enjoying that there are moments I long for fiction. The fault is all mine, my mind wanders and I get, what I can only call the readers equivalent to the fidgets.
So bearing that in mind, I did enjoy this autobiography in diaries and letters, but there were moments when I enjoyed it more than at others. That is no criticism of the work – I must stress that – it’s my insatiable fiction brain; I do despair of my non-fiction attention span. I do think that reading about somebody through their own words – originally not written with publication in mind, is wonderfully illuminating. I read Hazel Holt’s biography of Barbara Pym a few years ago, and so there was a little bit of going over old ground I suppose – although I had forgotten a lot of it – but this was a richer reading experience because reading Barbara’s words was naturally much more intimate.
Each section of the book contains some brief biographical contextualising by Hazel Holt and a short section recalling their early life by Barbara’s sister Hilary Pym.
Part 1 takes us back to Barbara Pym’s years in Oxford, her friendships and heartbreaks – especially her long almost obsessional love for Henry Harvey – are recounted mainly through the diary entries she kept at this time.
“13th March (1934) Oswestry. My photos of Lorenzo (HH) lying in the punt came and I am so pleased with them – they are awfully good and like him too. I felt quite happy in the evening – I wish I could be certain that it would last. What a perilous thing happiness is!”
There is plenty of evidence of Pym’s recognisable wit even in her own diary entries, she clearly loved her time at Oxford, and kept in touch with many of the friends she had then. It was around this time – just after leaving Oxford, of course that Barbara began writing. She began writing ‘Some Tame Gazelle’ about herself, her sister and some of their friends as they might be in thirty years. It was to be however a long time before the book was to be published – thankfully Barbara Pym never gave up.
The second section of the books recounts Barbara Pym’s war; she joined the Wrens and eventually ended up in Italy. She seemed to find the idea of herself as a wren a bit ludicrous and speaks of soon being found out as an imposter. This section of the book is told through diary entries and letters from Barbara to her friends Henry and Elsie Harvey and Bob Smith. These letters are often hilarious – and demonstrate her brilliant sense of humour and ability to poke gentle fun.
The third section – entitled the novelist celebrates the years in which Barbara Pym enjoyed her best success. After 1948 Barbara Pym kept notebooks – in which she recorded in surprising detail her observations, ideas for novels and other day to day things. She was also still writing letters. Barbara didn’t write full time however – she did in fact work for many years at the International African Institute in London, undertaking similar work as so many of her characters. However Barbara Pym’s publishing success came to an abrupt halt in 1963.
“24 March 1963 To receive a bitter blow on an early Spring evening (such as that Cape don’t want to publish An Unsuitable Attachment –but it might be that someone doesn’t love you anymore) – is it worse than on an Autumn or Winter evening? Smell of bonfire (the burning of rose prunings etc), a last hyacinth in the house, forsythia about to burst, a black and white cat on the sofa, a small fire burning in the grate, books and Sunday papers and the remains of tea.”
During these years Barbara kept writing – she sometimes lost heart – but she never gave up – there’s a message in that for us all I am sure. Also during these years she struck up a wonderful epistolary friendship with poet Philip Larkin. In January 1977 the Times Literary Supplement published a list of under-rated writers, chosen by other literary figures. Both Lord David Cecil and Philip Larkin named Barbara Pym (there was apparently no collusion) – almost overnight Barbara found her novels to be back in vogue. Thank goodness for Philip Larkin and Lord David Cecil – but so sad that this final recognition came so late in her life.
Reading this autobiography during Barbara Pym reading week seemed very fitting, and I am glad I did. I certainly feel as if I know Barbara Pym a little better, and I feel sure I would have liked her too. I thoroughly enjoyed the sections of the book that dealt with Barbara Pym at Oxford and her experiences during the war. However I did get a bit bogged down in some of the letters to her friends – despite they being so well written - there were maybe a few too many – all saying very similar things.
(Apologies at this point to those who hate long reviews – I know some people do – assuming you have even made it this far –how does one say what one wants to in fewer words?)
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As a fan of Barbara Pym's novel's, I wanted to know more about the author. Barbara Pym kept diaries throughout the 67 years of her life which gave insight into her friendships, her loves, her years at Oxford, her struggles getting published, her jobs, and her retirement years.
I liked it, but I really, really wished for footnotes and more linking editorial material. If I am a very, very good girl, do you suppose Hermione Lee would write an actual biography of Barbara Pym? Once she's done with Penelope Fitzgerald, that is.
I read all of Barbara Pym's work several years ago. Very fun, cozy reading. I was so disappointed to have finished it all, but sometimes I go back and read parts -- especially when in winter if I'm not feeling well. They're like comfort food. Maybe it's all those solid women in their sensible shoes and woolen jumpers. Anyway, I read her bio and letters once I'd finished all her fiction. She was a women just like many of those in her books -- blessedly single all her life, held a good job for whi
I read all of Barbara Pym's work several years ago. Very fun, cozy reading. I was so disappointed to have finished it all, but sometimes I go back and read parts -- especially when in winter if I'm not feeling well. They're like comfort food. Maybe it's all those solid women in their sensible shoes and woolen jumpers. Anyway, I read her bio and letters once I'd finished all her fiction. She was a women just like many of those in her books -- blessedly single all her life, held a good job for which she was probably overqualified and had a tight circle of friends. She had some trouble getting published because her work seemed old fashioned in the 1960's and 70's. She's often compared to Jane Austin, but I would also compare her to Evelyn Waugh (without the wicked edgy humor, though). Definitely mid-century comedies of manners with jumble sales, lots of tea, young curates and meddling neighbors. Fun.
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Reading Pym's diaries and letters was a great way to bookend the reading of all her novels. It was so wonderful to understand where she was coming from, who she was as a young woman, and to see how she dealt with the rejection and celebrations of her work.
A fascinating and intimate glimpse of a writer who is (in my opinion) highly underrated for her subtle humor and dark comic moments. It was heartbreaking to read about Pym's long struggle with rejection as a writer after an initial burst of success, particularly in the midst of a cancer struggle. Her wicked humor emerges in her letters and diaries, particularly the dig at John Lennon's long hair as emerging from a female Victorian writer (I cackled at that). I've made it my new goal to introduce
A fascinating and intimate glimpse of a writer who is (in my opinion) highly underrated for her subtle humor and dark comic moments. It was heartbreaking to read about Pym's long struggle with rejection as a writer after an initial burst of success, particularly in the midst of a cancer struggle. Her wicked humor emerges in her letters and diaries, particularly the dig at John Lennon's long hair as emerging from a female Victorian writer (I cackled at that). I've made it my new goal to introduce as many people as I can to Ms. Barbara Pym.
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I was disappointed to learn how much of her life energy was spent on an unrequited love who didn't seem to be worth her while. Over ninety percent of her journal was focused on him. So sad. However, it did give me insight into exactly why her books cast romance in such a dark light. She had been bitterly disappointed in love, and her novels reflect that perspective. It has made it plain, however, how important love was to Barbara Pym, in spite of her rather negative view of it. Indeed, her negat
I was disappointed to learn how much of her life energy was spent on an unrequited love who didn't seem to be worth her while. Over ninety percent of her journal was focused on him. So sad. However, it did give me insight into exactly why her books cast romance in such a dark light. She had been bitterly disappointed in love, and her novels reflect that perspective. It has made it plain, however, how important love was to Barbara Pym, in spite of her rather negative view of it. Indeed, her negative view was the direct result of her longing.
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I have enjoyed every book I've read by Barbara Pym. I liked getting to know her through her letters and diaries. It made me want to re-read her books. She faced her death with calmness and courage, very touching to read about.
The whole was more than the sum of its parts. Slow at first, it became moving to watch her life unfold in 334 pages of entries in her notebooks and letters to a few friends.
Very interesting progression from besotted university student to struggling middle ages to finally the poignant reversal of fortunes almost too late to be of any benefit.
After studying English at St Hilda's College, Oxford, she served in the Women's Royal Naval Service during World War II.
The turning point for Pym came with a famous article in the Times Literary Supplement in which two prominent names, Lord David Cecil and Philip Larkin, nominated her as the most underrated writer of the century. Pym and Larkin had kept up a private correspondence over a period o
After studying English at St Hilda's College, Oxford, she served in the Women's Royal Naval Service during World War II.
The turning point for Pym came with a famous article in the Times Literary Supplement in which two prominent names, Lord David Cecil and Philip Larkin, nominated her as the most underrated writer of the century. Pym and Larkin had kept up a private correspondence over a period of many years. Her comeback novel, Quartet in Autumn, was nominated for the Booker Prize. Another novel, The Sweet Dove Died, previously rejected by many publishers, was subsequently published to critical acclaim, and several of her previously unpublished novels were published after her death.
Pym worked at the International African Institute in London for some years, and played a large part in the editing of its scholarly journal, Africa, hence the frequency with which anthropologists crop up in her novels. She never married, despite several close relationships with men, notably Henry Harvey, a fellow Oxford student, and the future politician, Julian Amery. After her retirement, she moved into Barn Cottage at Finstock in Oxfordshire with her younger sister, Hilary, who continued to live there until her death in February 2005. A blue plaque was placed on the cottage in 2006. The sisters played an active role in the social life of the village.
Several strong themes link the works in the Pym "canon", which are more notable for their style and characterisation than for their plots. A superficial reading gives the impression that they are sketches of village or suburban life, with excessive significance being attached to social activities connected with the Anglican church (in particular its Anglo-Catholic incarnation). However, the dialogue is often deeply ironic, and a tragic undercurrent runs through some of the later novels, especially Quartet in Autumn and The Sweet Dove Died.
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