For the last few years Kim McNeil has led a wonderful readalong of books published by NYRB Classics written by women. I’ve loved participating! It has given me the opportunity to read and reread many great books, and it’s also nudged me toward long-neglected titles on my shelves. January’s selection was just such a book. I don’t even remember when I bought Sylvia Townsend Warner’s Lolly Willowes, but I know it was among the first NYRB Classics I bought. Perhaps I was saving it, delaying the gratification of finally reading a beloved novel now celebrating its 100th anniversary.

Then there’s also the pressure the comes with reading a much loved book: what if I don’t like it as much as I hope? And that kind of happened here, sadly. While I ended up admiring Lolly Willowes, I did not love it. That may change some day, as I’d very much like to read it again. 

The premise is intriguing. We meet Laura Willowes as she grows from a young woman into a middle-aged spinster, always fulfilling the sort of role of one of Barbara Pym’s Excellent Woman. Early on Laura recognizes that she is seen as “a middle-aging lady, light-footed upon stairs, and indispensable for Christmas Eve and birthday preparations.” But she is astute. She recognizes that beyond these useful, servile roles, she has no real identity at all. What this leads to is fascinating!

There were many poignant moments along the journey, and the ending felt radical. So what didn’t work for me? I can only say that I struggled settling into the book’s wavelength page by page. I had the feeling that if I were in a room listening to the characters and narrator talk I’d keep saying, wait, can you repeat that? I didn’t so much feel confused as I felt I was just slightly out of step.

I put that on me, and I will happily say that the ending retroactively justified the whole journey, leaving me eager to learn more about the book and to see how my response might deepen with time and a future reread. I know this novel is beloved, and I’d be glad to hear how others experienced its voice and rhythms. Was it love at first sight? Or did the book grow on you with reflection?