3.41 AVERAGE


This was edited together from two of her drafts, and Pym apparently never considered it ready for publication. It should have stayed buried, as it is the worst Pym I have ever read. What sets Pym, like Austen, apart from her contemporaries is not just the razor-sharp social commentary and witty phrasing, but also the underlying sympathy. Even when she has torn a hole through hypocrisies, there is still an understanding of *how* those betrayals came about. This story has found many clever ways to cut deeply into the consciousnesses of academics, but instead of empathy there is only cruelty. There is not a single sympathetic character in the whole novel, and it put me in a bad mood.

I have heard nothing but adoration and praise for Barbara Pym, and every time I came across one of the novels, I would pick them up without any real hesitation. I want to preface this by saying that this hasn't soured my view of Pym or put me off reading any more of her work. I think I just chose the wrong book to start with.
Out of the three books I own of hers, An Academic Question seemed the most interesting to me. A bored, unhappy faculty wife begins reading to a blind, elderly anthropologist in a nursing home, and her husband uses this to steal his very secret papers--research that can advance his reputation as well as dispute the work of a fellow colleague who he is in competition with.
I was hooked by this blurb; I was desperate to read it and so, when the time came around to read a Pym novel, this was the one I picked up. Alarm bells started to tinkle once I read the introduction (Kate Saunders), which stated that Pym had written two versions of this book: in first person, which she abandoned mid-way for being 'too cosy', and in third, which seemed to lose its charm. An Academic Question was published post-humously, and is acknowledged as being not one of her finest works.
The novel was just very brisk to me. I didn't feel engaged with any of the characters, even though some showed some flair and eccentricity, offering moments of charm and humour. The theft of the papers happened approximately three to five chapters in, and nothing more was really said of it. There were no real emotions in the characters about what they had done, and the tension of returning the manuscript was meek with barely any pulse. The comedy wasn't really there for me, either, and this may be because this is my first Pym read.
I do want to return to this book after I've read some of her other works, because maybe I will appreciate it a lot more then but for now, I found this very underwhelming and I didn't particularly enjoy reading it.

The introduction of An Academic Question, first published posthumously in 1986, has been written by novelist Kate Saunders, who believes the book to be ‘witty, sharp, light as a syllabub… and with a cast of typically Pym-like eccentrics’. She goes on to say that ‘no other novelist has celebrated our national silliness with such exuberance’.

An Academic Question is essentially an amalgamation of two different manuscripts which Pym wrote and was dissatisfied with. The novel tells the story of Caroline Grimstone, a ‘dissatisfied faculty wife’. Caro and Alan live in a neo-Georgian house in the ‘provincial’ university sprawled across a nameless town in which Alan lectures. They have a four-year-old daughter named Kate and a rather flippant Swedish au pair named Inge, both of whom Caro believes ‘in name and appearance, seemed very suitable, I thought, for a modern couple like Alan and me’.

The novel opens with the characters of Kitty Jeffreys and her middle-aged son Coco, both of whom left their home in the Caribbean ‘after the death of [Kitty’s] husband and, more importantly, the election of an all-black government’. Coco, having been awarded a fellowship at the university, works alongside Caro’s husband Alan.

Many secondary characters feature throughout the novel, the majority of them academics and lecturers at the university. Certainly the two most interesting and eccentric characters are hedgehog fanatic and local bookshop owner Dolly Arborfield who spends large chunks of her pension money on brandy, and Crispin Maynard, an ardent collector of Africana.

Caro’s first person perspective is used throughout. The narrative voice works relatively well with the story but Caro herself is not always a likeable character. She is a rather self-pitying woman who feels ‘abandoned and neglected’. She sees her young daughter as a burden and tries to palm her off onto the au pair as much as possible.

She is rather disgruntled with what life has afforded her but she essentially lacks drive to change the elements which she is displeased with. The only thing which Caro does in order to give herself a sense of ‘self-worth’ is to begin to read to an elderly man named Reverend Stillingfleet, a resident at a local nursing home. This arrangement seems rather too convenient, as Alan and his colleague Crispin Maynard have been wanting to read Reverend Stillingfleet’s manuscripts for some time but have thus far been unable to get hold of them.

The novel does tend to be rather dark in places. The majority of the characters have secrets and shames which they try to keep from others, but it feels as though we, as readers, do not know the characters as well as we should. Even Caroline as a first person narrator seems aloof and elusive.

Pym’s writing shines above the storyline and characters which she has created. Throughout the novel, her descriptions are sometimes charming and always original. For example, the wife of the university’s assistant librarian ‘seemed never to have recovered from the worries of card indexes and bibliographies in the days when she too had worked in a library’, and Coco and Kitty ‘always made a point of arriving last at everything, like royalty’. Despite this, the prose does sometimes feel a little repetitive, which is a shame.

Whilst the writing style of the novel works well, the wit and amusement involved seems sparse and uncharacteristic of the author. Whilst the two manuscripts have been merged together relatively well, it feels as though An Academic Question is lacking in something – whether a more likeable narrator, a slightly more in-depth storyline or an ending that does not feel so rushed, it is unclear.

3.5* rounded down.

I have a feeling I have read this before many years ago. According the the introduction, this edition was put together by Pym's literary executor from two different drafts. I did find the odd sentence which didn't really make sense - I'm sure at one point some one asks Caro about her students, but it is her husband Alan who is a lecturer.

This was my least favourite Pym so far. Caro was quite an unpleasant woman (I actually preferred Alan) and the tone of the novel was somehow heartless and often snide. There were very funny sentences from time to time, but I don't think I'd read it again.