No Fond Return of Love by Barbara Pym
published 1961
Back in the drawing room Dulcie exchanged Christmas presents with her uncle and aunt.
A tea cosy and a tin of shortbread from them to her, and a bed jacket and a book about religious orders in the Anglican church from her to them.
I did two blogposts on
this book – I
am a long-time Barbara Pym fan – back
in 2013, but the book was revived on the blog during 2024 because (of all
things) the names of the characters popped up. First, Dulcie – we had
some discussion over Patricia
Wentworth’s Gazebo, taking in a turn around Noel
Streatfeild’s horrible girls with the name, and the long
and varied story of actress Dulcie Gray, while agreeing that
no-one is called Dulcie any more.
And by happy chance, we were full of ourselves over the
name Aylwin too. Not many people have ever been called that, but any
occurrences can usually be linked with the book of that name by Theodore
Watts-Dunton – which was being discussed as one of those stories which was
an unimaginable bestseller in its day, but has totally disappeared now. Tosh in its finest form. All much discussed in several
blogposts.
Back to the actual book. Dulcie’s Christmas here is meant to be rather dull I think, although her life is opening out, and change is coming for everyone, including her aunt and uncle. The events cover a year, starting out in September, so this is early on. I thought this collection of presents was rather good in fact – better than people trying to be original and clever with a mushroom log – but then I am prejudiced in favour of bed jackets, and could imagine reading a book about Anglican churches.* I would certainly enjoy the shortbread, and we all like a teacosy.
It doesn’t specify that bedjacket and teacosy were home-knitted, but one does suspect….Dulcie is very keen on her knitting, particularly as it gives her something to do when forced to listen to other people droning on to her.
A worrying thought occurs - when I first read this book, more than 40 years ago, would I have thought this was a dull collection of gifts? Have I now aged into being sensible...?
Dulcie and Viola are two single women, perhaps in their mid
or late 30s– moderns might call them frenemies. They have teamed up, apparently
because they have no other friends, and are wallowing in what I have called
‘stalking in comfortable shoes and a nice cardi’, pursuing a man who has
crossed their paths, Aylwin Forbes. It should be bizarre, sociopathic
behaviour, but Pym somehow makes it work, and it is hugely enjoyable to read
about. After one expedition to a church, where they have unexpectedly found out
about his childhood home, a hotel, there is this marvellous line from Dulcie:
‘Shall we go and have a meal somewhere so we can get used to the idea of the Eagle House Private Hotel and all that?’
In a plot turn that more than equals anything in a spy
thriller or serial killer murder story, Dulcie and Viola book themselves in to
the Forbes family hotel at the seaside, and end up coinciding there [spoiler
alert] with Aylwin, his mother, his brother, his estranged wife and his ex-mother-in-law. So does someone push someone else off a cliff, or go berserk with a
kitchen knife? No, nothing much happens, just a lot of wonderful conversations.
This book is as mad as a box of frogs, and great fun.
The preparations for a dinner party make for a great scene,
as I love Pym’s perceptions on this kind of thing: Viola (who’s only contribution is arranging the flowers) says ‘I told Aylwin it was going to be quite a
simple dinner.’
‘Did you?’ said Dulcie, rather annoyed.
… and they then discuss wearing their ‘old black’ dresses.
This social event should be either depressing or
excruciatingly comic, but Pym makes it just very entertaining.
Pym is always very good on what people wear…There are young
women – Dulcie’s niece and her friend – wearing very ‘modern’ clothes.
I liked that one of the older male friends thought he had arrived too early for the dinner, and caught a glimpse of young Laurel in her vest, but it was just a white dress ‘very bare about the neck and shoulders.’
There’s a fair amount of dressing gowns in the book, always
a pleasure – Viola in lilac satin, Ducie in blue quilted bri-nylon. An
important announcement late in the book is delayed by a distracted discussion
on laundering it – ‘but you can [wash it], I assure you.’
A perfect book to re-read over Christmas.
Oh, this does sound like fun, Moira, and that seaside hotel setting sounds terrific and well done. I can just imagine the teacosy, bedjacket and book, too. How comforting in their way. Sometimes 'nothing much' can make for a good story, if that makes sense.
ReplyDeleteThanks Margot, and you really sum up what is good about Pym and this book.
DeleteThere are Spanish mantillas (the point goes at the front) and plastic watering cans in the shape of swans. (Lucy)
ReplyDeleteThose proper details - they should use that on a cover.
DeleteWe had mantillas when we were at school - did you? There was a box at the entrance to the chapel, but of course the better thing was to have your own, tucked into your schoolbag.
You may have been channeling Jackie Kennedy, who favored mantillas and was much mimicked by her fellow American Catholic women. See https://veilnation.blogspot.com/2016/09/jackie_29.html. In 1963, Vatican II wiped out the requirement that women wear a headcovering to Mass, thereby also wiping out the millinery industry. (The men's industry had already taken a hit because JFK did not wear a top hat to his inauguration.)
DeleteNice blogpost - but I don't think it was a Kennedy effect where I was: my mother had been to the same school so I know the history!
DeleteI would say women mostly wore hats in church, certainly on Sundays, right up to the end of the requirement - mantillas were for quick visits, or times when you were caught without a hat. Many women carried one round with them in their handbag for that reason - they folded up small! They became useful and widespread once women started not wearing hats at all times outdoors.
I find it very difficult to pick a favorite Pym, but I certainly love this one! Apparently Pym and her sister really did stalk people who interested them, as did Rachel Bromwich . . . I confess to seeing the attraction, especially for a novelist.
ReplyDeleteI've given up trying to pick a favourite - it's always whichever I read recently.
DeletePym would have loved the internet and the possibilities therein - I certainly have done a bit of stalking myself finding out people's past - and young people take that for granted I believe!
Tell us more about Rachel Bromwich...
Oh, a bed jacket ... Lovely ... Must go and find this book on my newly constructed book shelves. I think I have got all her novels and it's just what I feel like reading. What IS bri-nylon? I will have to google it. Chrissie
ReplyDeleteGuaranteed comfort - I read one of her books every year or so, and they never fail.
DeleteI think bri-nylon stood for British Nylon! I haven't checked. It had that very distinctive feel, and there were sheets, shirts and very much quilted dressing-gowns. It washed easily, drip-dried, and didn't need ironing. Pity it set one's teeth on edge to touch it.
There was the static too - I had a bri-nylon dressing gown back in the 1970s that used to make my hair stand on end.
DeleteSovay
I thought the sheets were unspeakable, because crackling, but I did know a defender who said they didn't get tangled up too much
DeleteOh thanks for this post, Moira. Tea cosies and bedjackets... Well, I just use whatever sweater is handy when I'm reading in bed and the room gets chilly (thermostat on a timer) but tea cosies definitely earn their keep. As for shortbread...my Nana's recipe is so easy to make and so successful, I hand out tins of them to everyone at Christmas.
ReplyDeleteI haven't forgotten the Anglican Women Writers/Nightie blog post, or the possibility of making a story out of it. Meanwhile, I've recently used Aylwin in a short crime story; a perfect name for a self-satisfied civil servant.
Yes - all the comforts in life! Your lucky friends with the shortbread. Nothing nicer with a cup of tea, perhaps with the pot under the teacosy....
DeleteShould anyone have an overwhelming urge to try one, the knitting site Ravelry has a slew of tea-cosy patterns.
ReplyDeletehttps://www.ravelry.com/patterns/search#query=Teacosy
My much-loved cousin, who died not long ago, knitted me one for Christmas about 10 years ago, and I thought then what a wonderful present, and of course I will always use it. It was quite elaborate, in the shape of a sheep.
DeleteTeacosies are fun to knit, not least because teapots don't complain about tight ribbing, scratchy yarn (I've used up a lot of unbearably itchy Noro yarn on teacosies) or being made to look ridiculous, so one can really let oneself go! I knitted one very like the horizontally striped version in the illustration for a friend, but in a rather Beatrice Lestrange Bradley colour scheme of burnt orange, mustard and deep purple.
DeleteSovay
I had to look up Noro yarn.
DeleteYes that does sound very Mrs B.
Knitting for the children's dolls and teddies was equally rewarding - no complaints, no wriggling, no-one complaining you'd stuck a pin in...
I love your expression ‘stalking in sensible shoes and a nice cardi’. You make it sound like a normal occupation for middle class ladies!
ReplyDeleteWhy do I have such problems so with not being anonymous?
DeleteSorry about the ID - I have the same problem when I visit other blogs, and increasingly so, and it is infuriating, it drives me mad.
DeleteWhat I love is that Pym heroines are often self-deprecating and self-critical, but they never feel the slightest need to apologize for being stalkers, it's taken for granted...
Wilmet Forsyth does acknowledge to herself that she doesn't want to be caught stalking Piers - though that could be because she's married, rather than because she thinks stalking inappropriate in itself. I do find the stalking more disconcerting in this book, probably because Dulcie and Viola are working as a team ...
DeleteSovay
It's the glue that binds Dulcie and Viola together. I'm thinking now about friendships in Pym - she herself had very good friends all her life, but the female friendships in the book are not stellar are they? Must read Jane and Prudence again....
DeleteChrissie again. I googled Bri-nylon and found this fascinating web-site: https://flashbak.com/the-story-of-bri-nylon-and-the-tragic-story-of-nylons-inventor-wallace-h-carothers-19167/. Do you know it, Moira?
ReplyDeleteFascinating indeed! And now I desperately want Moira to find the right book for a post using some of those images. I own a garment very like that blue slip, which I inherited from the grandmother who grew up on an Iowa farm---I bet she really did think of it as miraculous.
DeleteChrissie: Oh my goodness! I hadn't seen this when I answered you above: what a fabulous website. And now I didn't know all that at all. Those pictures!
DeleteDame Eleanor: I know, those pics are just asking to be featured on the blog. Good old Pym, actually specifying bri-nylon - somehow you can't imagine a male author giving that detail.
DeleteOh, dear, I have confused the redoubtable Welsh scholar with the novelist Rachel Ferguson, whom you probably do know! Sorry--blame the holiday champagne; I should stick to tea, more appropriate for this discussion anyway. You probably are familiar with The Brontes Went to Woolworths (https://www.amazon.com/Brontes-Went-Woolworths-Novel-Bloomsbury-ebook/dp/B004INH3UK.) It is a book that I would love completely except that it includes anti-Semitism that is very much of its time, one might say extremely of its time (except that many people of the time managed to avoid it). . . what shocks me most is the casualness of the comments. It doesn't even seem like a considered, if repellent, position, just reflexive. But if you are able to look past it, the book is a delightful account of how "stalking" turned into a real relationship.
DeleteFull disclosure: in at least one book published in the 1950s, Ferguson continued the anti-Semitism, and while I can sort of look the other way for pre-WWII books, I really can't manage it after the war, after everyone knew the full horror of what had happened.
Right, now that makes more sense! Yes am familiar with Ferguson though she doesn't quite do it for me: but it is many years since I read Brontes, maybe I should try it again. I think at the time I had high hopes and was disappointed not to be blown away.
DeleteI know just what you mean about anti-Semitism, and the shock if it continues after the war.
Loved the remark about Dulcie using her knitting in self-defense against bores! Wonder if the Misses Marple and Silver used it the same way? I love the idea of tea cozies, but I don't use teapots--I suppose I make my tea the New World way.
ReplyDeleteI have had phases of doing a lot of knitting, and it definitely helped if you were doing something that you found fruitless and boring but couldn't get out of. Made it not such a wast of time.
DeleteMost Brits of my age generally make tea in the mug, but we still have a teapot and cosy in the cupboard for occasional use!
I always wondered about Laurel's vest-like dress, and now see what it must have been like.
ReplyDeleteI had a quilted dressing gown like that,a blue one, as a child.
Revealing your shoulders was still quite racy I think.
DeleteAnd I think all of us of a certain age had that dressing gown. Mine was a strong reddish-pink.
I think mine may have been officially a "housecoat" rather than a dressing gown - it had a zip rather than buttons, and was white with pink flowers (and strong electrical charge as mentioned above). I wore it for years so it must have washed well - not that warm though IIRC, despite the quilting.
DeleteSovay
Actually you are right - they weren't that warm.
DeleteThe difference between housecoat and dressing-gown has been exercising me and the blog for many years!
The housecoat/dressing gown divide is hard to define as you say, and I suspect has changed over time. Mine was from the Grattan catalogue like most of my childhood clothes (paid for by instalments over 20 weeks) and I'm sure the zip was a major factor in it's being a housecoat as was the length (just below the knee). But IIRC housecoats in the 1950s were long and rather luxurious - I think Prudence (of "Jane and Prudence") is most insistent that hers are housecoats NOT dressing gowns (and by implication superior).
DeleteSovay
I honestly think housecoat must mean different things to different people, and the whole thing mystifies me! I looked at it in an entry on a Helen McCloy book
Deletehttps://cgctltsj.top/2013/03/through-glass-darkly-by-helen-mccloy.html
-- where a femme fatale wears an orang housecoat for a smart party at the school where she works. Made no sense...