A volume I recommend only for hardcore enthusiasts, but useful for those interested in the development of a notable author.

Barbara Pym's oeuvre consists of twelve novels and a posthumous "autobiography" compiled from her diaries and letters. These are all satisfying, even if a couple of the works which were initially rejected by publishers in the 1960s, only merited release because of her "comeback" in the late 1970s. Alongside this body of work, however, Pym's archives included half a dozen unpublished novels (some unfinished) and a few dozen short stories and miscellaneous pieces. The critical consensus is that many of the short stories are not worth public interest, written as they were during her youth or specifically for publication in "women's magazines" of the era - and rejected even by them! Here, Pym's literary executors cobble together a selection of the best material, which has become the final piece in the Pym puzzle.

Civil to Strangers and other Writings contains one complete novel, three novellas, four short stories, and an autobiographical radio talk. The eponymous novel was written when Pym was 23, and is a fairly perfunctory village romance about the wife of an arrogant, vague novelist, who attempts to return the spark to their marriage when a handsome Hungarian man moves into town. The novel feels very much like a draft, with moments of Pymian insight and observational humour, and the undertone of repressed sorrow that lurks around the corner of all of her works. Still, it is clear that the young, still very naive, Barbara was unable to properly imagine a marriage, and she is reduced more heavily here to stereotype. Additionally, most of the chapters have a surface-level quality; the artist has not yet added the detail and shading to the primary colours. Pym had such a distinctive narrative voice, but here we are seeing her influences rather than she herself.

The three additional novellas - all from the late 1930s - are excerpts of complete or near-complete works in the archive, polished by literary executor Hazel Holt. Pym was living in her childhood home in Shropshire, preparing the house for the imminent war, and wondering what she would do with her life. Each of these novels feels like an attempt to traverse a different path, before she found her ultimate style. Gervase and Flora is a harmless story about a young woman who follows her true love to Finland, where he has found a job and a beautiful Finnish lass; Home Front is a realist slice-of-life novel about an English village at the commencement of the War; and So Very Secret is a kind of spy novel, centered around an unexpected lead, a vicar's daughter, who discovers that a missing friend was involved in espionage, and sets out to find her.

All of these works are of great interest to the Pym scholar, as are the previously- unpublished short story So, Some Tempestuous Morn and a piece commissioned very late in Pym's life for the Church Times, called The Christmas Visit, both of which resurrect characters from the author's previous novels. However it is fair to say that all of them are examples of a writer-in-training, rather than a novel that would interest a newcomer or even an average fan. I will never complain about additional words by this author, but I think this volume's attractiveness was related to a kind of "Pymania" that took place during the 1980s, after the author's death.

More worthy, perhaps, are the other two short stories. Goodbye, Balkan Capital!, written during the War but never previously published, is another of the author's many reflections on unrequited love, and the way we turn past memories into fantasy, and it is really quite touching. Across a Crowded Room was one of the author's last pieces, commissioned by The New Yorker in the final year of her life, and is a neat example of her late style. Finally the short radio talk, Finding a Voice (1978), sees Barbara reflecting on her particular narrative style, and the problems this caused during the 1960s and early 1970s when no publisher would accept her novels.

A collection of historical interest, but perhaps not much more. ( )

I guess you could call this a lightweight novel - no dramatic plot twists, no family problems. Oh, but what Pym can do with making characters multidimensional and a perfectly pitched paragraph or pithy remark.
A couple of my favorite passages:
I think we are going to regret this man's presence among us, reflected Mrs. Gower. He is far too handsome to be let loose in a small town.
And: "You know I admire you!: declared Mr. Tilos suddenly.
"Hush! People will hear you," said Cassandra in agitation, for his voice was embarrassingly loud.
"I would want all the world to know," he declared.
"Don't be silly," said Cassandra firmly, thinking that it wouldn't matter the whole world knowing as long as the people of Up Callow and thereabouts did not. ( )

This eclectic array of Pym's unpublished work reveals an active mind filled with endless creative possibilities. ( )

I stopped before the 'Other Writings'. It seems to me that Pym's novels fall into two categories; they are either light-hearted and full of wry humour, or they are more cynical and almost snide. 'Civil to Strangers' falls firmly into the second category. Cassandra had no real personality and her husband Adam was a pathetic man-child, whom she had decided to bestow all her money and devotion on for no discernible reason. Cassandra's Hungarian admirer was a totally unbelievable character. I did enjoy Mr Gay and Mrs Gower, but Miss Gay seemed to have been created solely to be mocked.

I have now read all of Pym's novels, and have enjoyed her writing, although in general more than I did in this case. ( )

Tutte le virtù (Civil to strangers), Barbara Pym.

Barbara Pym, tra le mie preferite novelist inglesi, scrisse questo racconto nel 1936, che però venne pubblicato postumo solo nel 1980, insieme ad altri romanzi rifiutati a suo tempo dalle case editrici. La storia della letteratura è piena di piccoli e grandi capolavori il cui valore non venne riconosciuto subito e per fortuna la scrittura è un’arte a cui il vero scrittore si dedica senza un fine, scaturisce libera dalla sua intuizione.
Quello dello scrittore non è un lavoro, ma la vita. Un bel filmato per la televisione (Miss Pym’s day out) del 1991, dove Barbara Pym è interpretata dalla bravissima Patricia Routledge, mostra la scrittrice che prende continuamente appunti, se ascolta una frase o nota un atteggiamento che la colpisce e li lascia cadere nei suoi racconti con grande naturalezza facendone dei piccoli capolavori di delicata ironia e umanità. Solo gli artisti sanno vedere la poesia nella vita ordinaria di tutti i giorni.
Questo racconto, in particolare, è delizioso e non c’è personaggio di cui alla fine non ci si innamori.
Cassandra “era una giovane donna di ventotto anni, alta, bionda, non proprio bella, ma aggraziata e distinta”. Adam Marsh-Gibbon “un gentiluomo benestante che scriveva qualche poesia e qualche oscuro romanzo. In realtà gran parte del denaro che permetteva ad Adam di condurre una vita così agiata era di Cassandra, ma lei non glielo ricordava mai.” Il signor Philip Gay “celibe, fra i cinquanta e i sessant’anni, era un uomo deluso”. Angela Gay “aveva trent’anni e non era ancora sposata. Era una donna piccola, bruna, assai leziosa, che sarebbe stata carina se solo non avesse avuto quell’espressione scontenta sul viso”.
I personaggi sono diversi tra loro e alcuni più positivi degli altri, ma alla fine c’è un fondo di bontà in tutti quanti. Questo è uno di quei libri che non mi stanco mai di rileggere. ( )