Another revival is overdue. I return to her books regularly, receiving as much solid pleasure as ever. Her wit is ever-fresh, and often so subtly embedded in the prose that it surfaces only after multiple readings. Pym generously peppers her prose with observations that both sting and tickle: “Prudence’s flat was in the kind of block where Jane imagined people might be found dead, though she had never said this to Prudence herself; it seemed rather a macabre fancy and not one to be confided to an unmarried woman living alone.” (via Second Glance at Barbara Pym | Open Letters Monthly - an Arts and Literature Review)
