Hello readers.
A few months ago, one of my teeth fell out while eating a plum. (Look, I live a very glamorous life.) After cleaning the tooth and putting it in a Ziploc bag, I remembered asking the dentist about it just a year earlier. that exact tooth† Second pick. It seemed wobbly.
At that point, the dentist brushed off the problem. “Just avoid toffee,” he advised. avoid fudge, I wrote in a note on my phone. Well, the plum has achieved what toffee could only dream of. I went back to the dentist, Ziploc in hand, and asked if he could put the tooth back in. That’s not how it works, as you probably know. I got a crown. Later I remembered that I had left the bag in his office. A bad part of me was hoping the displaced tooth would haunt him—not for long, maybe just a minute or two.
I’m only mentioning this because it’s the kind of semi-comedy mundaneness that appears in Barbara Pym novels. Or, in some cases, the entirety of a Barbara Pym novel. One of my favorite Pyms is below.
Wishing you a lot of dentistry,
†Molly
This novel contains all the staples of Barbara Pym’s fiction: exquisite euphemisms, wars within marriage, ample consumption of stewed apples. In an age of unchecked personal self-disclosure (see tooth story above), it’s refreshing to read a novel about the quality of restraint. In this case, it’s the reticence of the mid-century English bourgeoisie. In PymWorld, insults are not only veiled, but smothered; what seems like a wasted comment about how a man drinks his tea turns out to be nothing short of character assassination.
Wilmet, our protagonist, is a lady of leisure in post-war London. While her husband does something vague in an office, she attends church events, has lunch with her mother-in-law, and cautiously seeks purpose in life. Poor Wilmet. People are always giving her obscure bits of information and following it up with “…and you know what” That means’, which Wilmet does not.
My experience with Barbara Pym is that her novels polarize. Some readers are immediately captivated; others are apocalyptically bored. There seems to be no middle ground. Are you not curious which pole you are occupying?
Read if you want: Penelope Fitzgerald, Rhubarb, Somerset Maugham, the ‘Up’ Documentary Series, Offensive
Available from: Check the library or your second-hand bookshop of your choice (online or not)
“Eleutherie”, by Allegra Hyde
Fiction, 2022
Willa Marks grew up in an old hunting lodge in the woods of New Hampshire, where her parents prepared for the end of time in unconventional ways. (On the one hand, they stocked up on canned goods and built a bunker. On the other hand, they were taking drugs that are not historically known to increase survival, such as fentanyl.) When the parents die suddenly of an overdose, Willa is sent to Boston. There, in the cradle of freedom, she receives a copy of a book written by an ex-serviceman who has established an eco-warrior camp on a tropical island.
The community’s motto is “KEEP AND PROTECT – PRESERVE AND CORRECT.” Upon arrival, Willa is given a bamboo toothbrush, a pair of vegan leather flip flops, and a contract that she signs without reading it. (In fiction, signing a contract without reading it is short for idiocy, and yet – how often does someone do the exact same thing in real life? How many terms and conditions have I accepted when downloading a piece of trivial software – and will I meet a cruel end because of it? Time will tell.)
The story goes back and forth between the tropical island and Willa’s relationship with a Harvard professor. It’s a weird, melancholy adventure novel – not a genre copy you come across every day.
Read if you want: Learning about cults, the documentary ‘Spaceship Earth’, the movie ‘Ex Machina’, ‘The Terranauts’ by TC Boyle
Available from: Penguin Random House