A cozy, comfort read. Have your hot tea ready because you will definitely want some as you read about Mildred brewing the ubiquitous cups of tea that English people seem to consume. Mildred is one of those "excellent women" who are always there to help other people. They are the pillars of the church and community. It is refreshing to read about a young woman who enjoys her own company and is not dependent on a husband to complete her life. I enjoyed this quiet little journey into a quieter, gentler world in post WWII England. ( )

As always, Barbara Pym does an incomparable job of portraying English "gentlewomen." The reader would know Mildred upon seeing her, as is true of the other characters in this book. So much of Mildred's life is dictated by what is "proper" and acceptable, while realizing that she is sometimes less than satisfied with her life as it is. There is a quality of dryness in Pym's writing that is enjoyable and made me want to continue reading this book. ( )

I can't remember who recommended this to me, but I definitely found out about it here on LT. And I'm grateful to whoever it was, because I adored this book.

Mildred Lathbury is a middle class, thirty-something spinster in post-war London. Her time is spent working with elderly and distressed gentlewomen and at her parish church. The book follows the twists and turns of her relationships with (among others) Father Malory the vicar and his sister, her new neighbours Mr and Mrs Napier, and the newly arrived clergyman's widow Mrs Gray.

The subtle satire, the gentle, dry, self-deprecating humour of Miss Lathbury and the phenomenal character sketches absolutely made this book. The writing is beautiful, the plot twists are tiny but significant, the profound commentary on human nature is deftly slipped in to telling effect - and the cumulative effect is that a story about the ordinary becomes something extraordinary.

I hadn't even finished reading this library book before I'd ordered a copy for my own bookshelf, and added several more titles by Barbara Pym to my wishlist. ( )

Mildred Lathbury, a clergyman's daughter and a spinster in her mid-thirties, is the main character of this story which takes place in London in the 1950's. She is an independent woman of modest means, but also one of those "excellent women" who is depended on to take care of the needs and comforts of others. Mildred, a practical woman with common sense, becomes embroiled in the petty dramas of her self-centered neighbors as they intrude on her with expectations for her comfort and assistance. Humorously written from Mildred's point of view, Excellent Women is written in the style of Jane Austen, and gently makes fun of the rules and manners of society, especially the repressed roles of women in early 1950's England. This was a fun and fast read and I will be reading more of Barbara Pym's work. Recommended. ( )

Pym’s indexers make their first appearance in her second novel, Excellent women. Foremost among them is Esther Clovis, secretary of a Learned (anthropological) Society; a formidable and recurring figure, seen by the narrator, Mildred Lathbury, as having ‘hair like a dog, but a very capable person, respected and esteemed by Everard Bone, and, moreover, one who could make an index and correct proofs’.
Less impressively, the wife of the President of the Learned Society always attends its meetings, knits, and drops off to sleep. Mildred asks Everard:

‘Did she work with him in the field?’
‘Good Heavens, no! She knows nothing at all about anthropology.’
‘Didn’t she even do the index or proofreading for one of his books? You know what it often says in a preface or dedication—“To my wife, who undertook the arduous duty of proof-reading” or making the index.’
‘She may have done that. After all, it’s what wives are for.’

After that, we should not be surprised (or affronted) by the dialogue in which Mildred, the novel’s heroine, is invited to dinner by Everard, an anthropologist. She asks how his book is progressing, and he tells her:

‘I have just had some of the proofs and then of course the index will have to be done. I don’t know how I’m going to find time to do it,’ and proceeds to ask her to undertake the task. She protests: ‘But I don’t know how to do these things,’ but he persuades her, and she reflects -- ‘Yes, it would make a nice change. And before long I should be certain to find myself at his sink peeling potatoes and washing up; that would be a nice change when both proof-reading and indexing began to pall. Was any man worth this burden? Probably not, but one shouldered it bravely and cheerfully ...'