This isn't my favourite of Pym's novels but I do find her views of village society so apt and often hilarious I still enjoyed every minute of reading it.
In this case, the main character, Emma, is a social anthropologist studying the village she resides in, surrounded by well-meaning ex-subjects of the manor house. Emma's mother is a professor of English literature (thus her name) and pops in every once and awhile to gesture with romance options at her daughter, who seems largely uninterested. Odd men wander through the text, all of them with some sort of unusual focus, whether food or antiquities or the need for a good walk (provided, if you are a woman, the doctor says it's okay). They're the sort of exasperating men seen often in novels but everyone puts up with their absurdities, just as they put up with the women polishing the church who never attend services. Everyone has a dream, most of them unrealized.
What I love best about Pym's books is that they are filled with women doing what is expected of them (often involving casseroles) while having internal caustic conversations with themselves about why they are even bothering. This is what goes on in my head all the time and thus I am very comfortable here. I also like the fact that people in her books still believe in duty to ones neighbours, no matter how onerous. A Poverty dinner is the scene for much hilarity, as all those invited whine gently for better bread and cheese while contributing a tiny amount to the cause. It's all so lovely and familiar and it even made me want to go back to church, simply for the framework of life that it provides. The efforts to make the world better, even in a smallish way. Heartwarming. While the gossips hang about, viperish, they still contribute a loaf or some sweets, endless cups of tea...
In these times of Sturm und drang, it's nice to leave a novel with a smile on one's face and a feeling of hope. ( )

I'm bumping this to four stars after re-reading the last half of the book...

In 1979, Barbara Pym began working on what would end up being her final novel, A Few Green Leaves. She was at the height of her career, after having been rediscovered by the public only two years earlier, and was for the first time in her life, if not a household name, certainly a minor literary celeb. And then, alas, cancer struck, and Pym died in January 1980, having finished the draft manuscript of the novel. It is a book to be thankful for, for this reason and others.

A Few Green Leaves has its evident strengths. Pym was by now an effortless sketcher of individual characters - drab, grey lives vigorously told, as someone once said - and she captures the nuances of small-town life well. It is also interesting to hear the narrative voice of Emma Howick acknowledging that some of these traditions are now outdated in modern Britain, and survive only in villages like these.

At the same time, this book lacks either the comic vibrancy of Pym's early novels - think [b:Crampton Hodnet|178566|Crampton Hodnet|Barbara Pym|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1347728932l/178566._SY75_.jpg|810539] or [b:Some Tame Gazelle|178572|Some Tame Gazelle|Barbara Pym|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1347763773l/178572._SY75_.jpg|1560758] - or the startling bitterness of her late masterpieces [b:The Sweet Dove Died|226980|The Sweet Dove Died|Barbara Pym|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1356450254l/226980._SY75_.jpg|810541] and [b:Quartet in Autumn|227002|Quartet in Autumn|Barbara Pym|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1386922284l/227002._SY75_.jpg|1283470]. What remains is satisfactory but occasionally, especially in the first half, rambling. One feels that Pym has decided not to tax her strength by incorporating a plot. Instead the book feels like a number of short stories scrambled and intertwined to form a novel. It is not fully formed, whether because the author did not get a chance to thoroughly revise it before her death, or because she was trying something new.

On re-reading the second half of the book though, I find a great deal of strengths. The vignettes of village life (especially a late chapter involving a power cut) are pleasant and sometimes wry. The open use of profanity and sexuality (where appropriate) shows how far the world had come since Pym began publishing her novels 30 years previously. This is still an engaging book once one delves into it, but I must admit it's one of the only Pyms where I didn't feel the urge to read chapter after chapter.

But for all that may (ever so slightly) disappoint me, it is also telling how much gentler and perhaps more sombre is village life in Pym's world now. Perhaps she herself felt like an outsider, the way that Emma does. Her ability to look beyond people must have challenged her ability to exist alongside the kinds of narrow-minded traditionalists so often profiled in her work. Emma finds herself, for example, understanding why people are worried for the village rector when his sister moves away - he himself is worried; how will he cook anything beyond fish fingers? - but she also acknowledges that across Britain men are now fending for themselves and there is something simplistic in the former view. Much like the village manor, which is now owned by a newer family who don't need to provide free picnics for the poor children because, well, there's a welfare state now, it's clear that the people here are clinging to a world, and it's a world that the author both misses and yet can't feel that sad about losing. There is warmth found in places, but it is often overwhelmed amongst the rector unsure of whether he is welcome into people's homes, the doctor's wife dissatisfied with her family's small lodgings, and the funeral mourners who only come to church for these sorts of "special events".

Pym was a minor master of the form. I hope her clear-eyed, tart, witty, small stories remain with us for a long time to come. This may not shine as brightly as some of the jewels in her collection, but is still a tribute to the skills that made her such a recognisable voice in 20th century British fiction. ( )

Not my favorite Pym -- too much little those TV shows "about nothing" for me -- but it had its moments. Really had my heart tugged by the death of Esther Clovis from an earlier book. ( )

lots of characters. funny. the first one I read by Pym, I didn't like. glad I read a 2nd one. ( )

One of Pym's finest. She gently riffs on Austen's Emma, but gives the story its own open-ended twist. ( )