E. M. Delafield - Diary of a Provincial Lady

Diary of a Provincial Lady, which reads like a 1930s Bridget Jones' Diary, is wonderful. Underneath the cutting satire and self-mockery is a portrait of a woman's struggle between her true desires vs the call of duty (motherhood, domestic tasks, self-sacrifice). Maybe I'm a philistine but I vastly prefer this to Mrs Dalloway.

Example of never-ending demands on a domestic woman:

June 3rd. Astounding and enchanting change in the weather, which becomes warm. I carry chair, writing materials, rug, and cushion into the garden, but am called in to have a look at the Pantry Sink, please, as it seems to have blocked itself up. Attempted return to garden frustrated by arrival of note from the village concerning Garden Fête arrangements, which requires immediate answer, necessity for speaking to the butcher on the telephone, and sudden realisation that Laundry List hasn't yet been made out, and the Van will be here at eleven. When it does come, I have to speak about the tablecloths, which leads - do not know how - to long conversation about the Derby, the Van speaking highly of an outsider - Trews - whilst I uphold the chances of Silver Flare (mainly because I like the name). Shortly after this, Mrs. S. arrives from the village, to collect jumble for Garden Fête, which takes time. After lunch, sky clouds over, and Mademoiselle and Vicky kindly help me to carry chair, writing materials, rug, and cushion into the house again.

Meanwhile Robert, her husband, whose occupation is unknown, mostly remains in the background with his nose buried in the paper, sometimes asleep, sometimes not, but never expected to deal with any of these chores.

The Provincial Lady's main form of escape is visiting her best friend Rose in London. Rose is a widow who now lives independently and appears to comprise going to exhibitions and rubbing shoulders with London's literati at soirees. (Which of course made me think hard about my own circumstances. Why am I wasting my time with housework and grocery shopping when I could be living a similarly carefree life?)

Travelling, she is provoked into comparing her clothes, belongings, and carriage, with that of another passenger:

Take early train so as to get in extra afternoon. Have with me Robert's old leather suitcase, own ditto in fibre, large quantity of chrysanthemums done up in brown paper for Rose, small packet of sandwiches, handbag, fur coat in case weather turns cold, book for journey, and illustrated paper kindly presented by Mademoiselle at the station. (Query: suggests itself: Could not some of these things have been dispensed with, and if so which?) Bestow belongings in the rack, and open illustrated paper with sensation of leisured opulence, derived from unwonted absence of all domestic duties. Unknown lady enters carriage at first stop, and takes seat opposite. She has expensive-looking luggage in moderate quantity, and small red morocco jewel-case, also bran-new copy, without library label, of Life of Sir Edward Marshall-Hall. Am reminded of Lady B. and have recrudescence of Inferiority Complex.

It all sounds very shallow, but outward appearance matters because it points to the ideal woman: calm, elegant, and has her shit together. (Bridget Jones, too, has an obsession with Inner Poise.)

At her core, the Provincial Lady is aware that other women go through similar and rather despises her own sex's vain scrabbling...

March 28th. Read admirable, but profoundly discouraging, article in Time and Tide relating to Bernard Shaw's women, but applying to most of us. Realise not for the first time that intelligent women can perhaps best perform their duty towards their own sex by devastating process of telling them the truth about themselves. At the same time, cannot feel that I shall really enjoy hearing it.

Other notes from the Britain part of my 2023 reading list... so far my favourite finds are: George Orwell, E. M. Delafield, Evelyn Waugh, and D. H. Lawrence. I did not enjoy Virginia Woolf, Muriel Spark, H. G. Wells, Max Beerbohm, or Penelope Mortimer. 

I couldn't find the remaining books at my local library. Novel On Yellow Paper, Ways of Seeing, The Mersey Sound, and Eminent Victorians are available at other branches so I will get them delivered to my branch (recently discovered the NLB's book reservation service which is amazing!). And I guess I will have to read The Intelligent Woman's Guide to Socialism and Capitalism, Nairn's London, and Enemies of Promise on Archive.org.