The Rhetoric of Women’s Humour in Barbara Pym’s Fiction by Naghmeh Varghaiyan

Abstract

Reviewed by: The Rhetoric of Women’s Humour in Barbara Pym’s Fiction by Naghmeh Varghaiyan Emily Stockard THE RHETORIC OF WOMEN’S HUMOUR IN BARBARA PYM’S FICTION, by Naghmeh Varghaiyan. Stuttgart: ibidem Press, 2021. 220 pp. $39.15 paperback; $23.99 ebook. As Naghmeh Varghaiyan makes clear in her introductory chapter of The Rhetoric of Women’s Humour in Barbara Pym’s Fiction, critics and reviewers have been in no doubt about the importance of humor in Barbara Pym’s novels. But there is also no doubt that critics, while recognizing this central feature, have failed to give it the close attention it deserves. The book’s importance, then, lies in Varghaiyan’s willingness to take on an essential, yet essentially impossible task (no one could be expected to convey how funny Pym is) head on. A more theoretically informed study could hardly be imagined. Her lengthy first chapter, “Characteristics of Women’s Humour,” cites studies by leading theorists (Eileen Gillooly, Regina Barreca, Nancy Walker, and Hélène Cixous among them) to set out how women writers make distinctive use of humor, the comic genre, and other narrative features such as irony and open-ended conclusions— all of which are employed by Pym in her narratives. Such a survey is valuable in its own right, but the collation of this abundant and complex material proves an unwieldy job, which Varghaiyan’s presentation reflects. Even so, the primary point stands out clearly: women writers use humor (which Varghaiyan expands to include their handling of the comic genre) as a rhetorical strategy that doubles as a survival mechanism, enabling the author (and her female characters) to subvert the authority of patriarchal structures, often doing so covertly. When Varghaiyan applies these theories to Pym’s novels, she shows herself well-versed in the relevant criticism, citing major studies of Pym by scholars who take a variety of approaches. Among these are Katherine Ackley and Robert Long (on Pym’s characteristic themes); Mason Cooley, Annette Weld, and Ellen Tsagaris (on Pym’s unusual use of genre conventions); and Judy Little and Deborah Donato (on Pym’s unique use of discourse and language). Varghaiyan devotes a chapter each to Pym’s first three published novels, Some Tame Gazelle (1950), Excellent Women (1952), and Jane and Prudence (1953), giving close analysis of the techniques of women’s humor as applied to standard figures from Pym’s repertoire: the spinster, the “excellent woman,” the clergyman, the male academic. In all cases, she argues, including the male figures, Pym’s humor, in accordance with women writers’ techniques, aims to ridicule not the individual characters but the cultural system that has produced the absurdities on show— a claim more often asserted than supported. Some Tame Gazelle receives by far the most attention, and “Some Tame Gazelle: Construction of Women’s Veiled Humour” presents a thorough reading admirable in its close attention to Pym’s text. Here the most valuable feature of Varghaiyan’s study is [End Page 168] her original and telling look at Pym’s use of a prominent feature of women’s writing, “double-voiced discourse,” to present the middle-aged spinster Belinda Bede (p. 12). That is, Belinda’s spoken dialogue conforms to, and her actions carry out, the cultural expectations of the dutiful “excellent woman” that she appears to embody (p. 5). But Pym’s narrative voice also relays Belinda’s subversive thoughts, which contradict her outward appearance. In this way, Pym both presents and then undercuts, in a humorous way, the patriarchal view of women like Belinda, as well as the extent to which she has internalized that perspective. That Pym uses double-voiced discourse to achieve a similar effect in Excellent Women proves a more difficult case to argue. For unlike the third-person presentation of Belinda’s thoughts, Mildred Lathbury’s first-person explanations of her behavior and speech, strictly speaking, do not constitute an oppositional voice completely separate from her actions and dialogue. Rather, both her commentary—her reflections on her actions—and her outward appearance are tools by which Pym constructs Mildred’s character. Thus, the novel lacks a true double-voice; there is no separate voice...