Book Review - 'Lolly Willowes' by Sylvia Townsend Warner

2023 REREAD: It took me days to finish this 160-page novella, and I barely managed 100 pages before giving up. Life's too short, and I've got other books to read.

Indeed, 'Lolly Willowes' is a very meandering book where nothing happens much, that tends towards going off topic, changing its course and ways, non sequiturs, and inconsistencies, and the writing - the language used - is nonsense and gibberish, even accounting for the time period it was written in. There is shockingly little development for the characters, the settings, the time skips, and for what passes as a "plot" here; it's totally different from what I remember in my first reading. For such a slow novella, it rushes (and forgets about) a lot of its content.

Still, it has a nice, simple English countryside atmosphere - a general feel of it - that I find to be charming, so 'Lolly' isn't a total waste to me. Also it is outstandingly progressive for its time, in terms of social justice. Feminist, witchy, woodsy, countryside, holiday-ish, and plant-and-herbal-loving. It should have been my cup of tea, my breather, during my downtime. Sadly, I need more to entertain me, and far better, more focused writing.

Final Score: 3.5/5





Original Reivew:



It's a miracle that my last read of 2020 would be a book I would love. Even more so after a string of disappointments. If 'Lolly Willowes' didn't cure my depression, it may have cured my reading slump. Or maybe both miracles and mercies exist.

'Lolly Willowes', by queer British novelist and poet Sylvia Townsend Warner, published in 1926, brought me back to my own youth and the times spent with my family on holiday visits to the country. It also brought on melancholy over the fact that time goes by, and those carefree days connecting with my loving extended family, with their rich histories and stories, and away from the horrors of the rest of the year at school, are long gone. They're just memories. That I can't now physically visit most of my family members who are still alive makes the feeling of nostalgia and loss all the more profound. I long to capture that bright, sunny and innocent attachment soon.

This beautiful and humanly written piece blooms like the best of blossoms in the country. Remember how interesting every plant was when you went out exploring as a child? How every bark, branch and leaf on every tree you climbed was different? How easily we forget the newness and fresh excitement of horticulture.

Sylvia Townsend Warner was right: 'Lolly Willowes' is a polished sword that is greater than the pretty markings on its blade. "Greater than the sum of its parts", or "surface levels don't matter", don't cut it.

'Lolly Willowes' is more than a tale of coming-of-age - when aged from birth to forty-seven-years old - and of how times change, relationships with family change, and how one copes and moves on from death; yet oneself hardly changes, and the crushing boredom of a wasting life that comes with being static. The novella is also about witchcraft (though that feature isn't fully pronounced until the last fifty pages; it's a subtle build up), and the roles women play in society. Tedious, limited, boxed roles that the patriarchy has forced them into. Is it any wonder that most women do indeed turn to witchcraft, for a bit of freedom and expression? Even the Devil himself may grant them more leisure to just do whatever the hell they like than the human-made patriarchal system does.

Laura Willowes ("Lolly" or "Aunt Lolly" to her family) is an early 20th century spinster who, after her father's death, has lived in London with her brother and sister-in-law and nieces for nearly two decades. Her family has taken for granted that she'll stay with them forever, doing the same things every day, happy with her lot in life. No job, no property of her own, Laura is just the aunt, the caregiver, the babysitter, and the cleaner. Little do the proud Willowes' know how much yearning, how much desperation, how much living, is fighting to burst from within Laura. She doesn't want to be tied down to her loving yet somewhat thoughtless family; she wants to be alone, to live alone. In the country with all the hills, footpaths, flowers, trees and herbs.

However, it's difficult to undertake a lifestyle change and go out and do what you want during a world war. But surely delayed and detained plans can be renewed after all those years?

So, after buying books and a map, and doing library research, Laura up and moves to Great Mop, to everyone's shock. There, her life will change in ways even she would never expect.

Will Laura Willowes, a forty-seven-year-old woman, finally find happiness and contentment?

She's always been a simple woman, yet sharper and more observant than anyone thinks. She has ambitions and hobbies of her own, such as drawing, reading, walking around and mixing herbs. Helping people in all sorts of tasks was formed in her out of habit, too. But forming long-lasting bonds with people, and friendship, have never been a concern of hers. In fact she's okay with forgetting about most people in her life, preferring her alone time (there's the subtext that Laura might be asexual as well as introverted - never necessarily that she has some sort of antisocial personality disorder). There's a tingling of a dark side to her, which I like; her selfishness is what makes her human, and relatable and irresistible (who could blame her for how she turned out after a lifetime of helping others, in fear of being a burden, and receiving little fulfilment in return?). She's never been religiously-inclined; she only went to church in London for her family's sake, which is unique for a woman of her time.

Laura is independence personified.

Being a witch might be her true calling after all.

Even when Satan comes to call on her, in whatever form he takes, she will make her desire for independence and freedom known. Because it's her life, and it belongs to no one else.

Many women can relate to Laura "Lolly" Willowes and her story, at any time, and any place. It's so rich, real and alive, that it's breathtaking, even accounting for the witchcraft and Satanism aspect. It is one of the crowning, willowy, ivy-league jewels of early 20th century feminist literature, and I hadn't even heard of it until I read Pam Grossman's 'Waking the Witch', which also praises it in great detail. Thank you, Ms Grossman, for this particular witchy recommendation.

'Lolly Willowes' - what a wonderfully written novella. It's a feminist's, and witch's, love letter, felt not only for its title character, but for every woman in it, and the subversive roles they play, like in the secluded country, free from the rest of the world. For me it leaves a positive mark for the end of this year, coming totally unexpected, with me holding no expectations for it whatsoever. Pleasantly surprised doesn't begin to cover it.

There it is, my final review of 2020. All I have left to say is: read as many good books as you can, that you enjoy, that hold meaning for you, and that give far more than take. And as I've reiterated before and will continue to do so, to every single person on earth: stay safe, stay strong, stay loving, stay caring, stay selfless.

Happy New Year, said with the kindest regards, and the deepest sincerity.

Final Score: 4.5/5