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3.5
A Few Green Leaves
ByPublisher Description
Completed barely two months before her death, Pym's last novel is an incisive and wry portrait of life in an English village in Oxfordshire. It is also certain to be considered by many her masterwork. In A Few Green Leaves the author combines the rural setting of her earliest novels with many of the themes--and even some characters--of her later ones. Switching points of view among many characters, she builds with accumulating effect the picture of life in a town forgotten by time yet affected dramatically by it. Historical time--represented by Druid ruins, the local eighteenth-century country manor, and the last aristocrats who occupied it in the 1920's--is juxtaposed against the banalities of life in today's world.
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3.5
“Loved it!!!
Emma glanced at the flowers in the distance. She was becoming rather tired of daffodils. Their Wordsworthian exuberance had been overdone, she felt, crammed into cottage gardens and now such poetic drifts of them in the park and woods
Monday was always a busy day at the surgery, a rather stark new building next to the village hall. ‘They’ – the patients – had not on the whole been to church the previous day, but they atoned for this by a devout attendance at the place where they expected not so much to worship, though this did come into it for a few, as to receive advice and consolation. You might talk to the rector, some would admit doubtfully, but he couldn’t give you a prescription. There was nothing in churchgoing to equal that triumphant moment when you came out of the surgery clutching the ritual scrap of paper. [...[Going out of the surgery, clutching her bit of paper, a prescription for something, at least, Daphne felt that Martin, the ‘new doctor’ as he was called in the village, had done her good. He had listened, he had been sympathetic and she felt decidedly better. Much better than she would have felt if she’d gone to Dr G. – he never even bothered to take your blood pressure.
‘And how do you find the village?’ Beatrix asked Daphne. ‘In February it must seem bleak after Birmingham.’
‘Oh, there can be bleakness in Birmingham,’ said Daphne. ‘I suppose February is a dreary month anywhere – except perhaps in warmer climes.’ She used the deliberately stilted poetic phrase half jokingly, but it concealed her determination not to go to the cottage near Tintagel this summer but to have a holiday in Greece again.”
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