JOYCE DENNYS, Economy Must Be Our Watchword (1932)

[This is one of several unposted reviews I recently discovered in my archives. I had been saving this until after we announced our reprints of Joyce Dennys, but I hope you'll still enjoy seeing it even though the reprints are no longer happening.]

"Mind you, I'm not blaming you, it's not the fault of your class that your educations have been neglected, and you've been brought up as helpless as new-born babes, and believe me, m'Lady, you have the heart-felt sympathy of practically all the classes, except the out-and-out Bolshies, of course, who are just as uneducated as you, and therefore unable to see both sides of a question."

I had been absolutely lusting to read this book for nearly a decade, since Simon at Stuck in a Book mentioned it casually here and then Danielle at A Work in Progress tracked it down and reviewed it here. Alas, I think that the two copies they were able to track down might well be the only extant copies in our galaxy, so I had nearly given up on ever getting hold of it. But last year, when Rupert and I started to think about releasing a batch of Joyce Dennys titles (now, obviously, not happening), we decided we should also reprint her charming memoir and the three rather daft "Dose" books (which I reviewed here), and that somehow, by hook or by crook, we had to get hold of this one as well and make it available to more readers.

Happily, neither hook nor crook were needed, for Simon at once agreed, very kindly and graciously, to lend his copy to Dean Street Press for scanning. (Thank you again, Simon!)

I was delighted to finally read all about the impossible Lady Macassar—known affectionately as Petal—and her long-suffering husband Hilary, who decide that they must economize to make ends meet in the dark days of the financial crisis of the early 1930s. Hilary puts into place some sound economical measures—retreating to their country estate (which I could totally get on board with) and taking up market gardening (perhaps not quite so much enthusiasm from me, though I'm happy to help with watering), with the willing help of Mrs. FitzHerbert, wife of the local vicar, and Mrs. Brown, the doctor's wife, whom Petal finds loathsomely dull. (The Henrietta letters which appeared in The Sketch during World War II were surely just a gleam in Dennys' eye when she was writing Economy, but it's lovely to think that the superficial, pretentious Petal's tedious, dull Mrs. Brown could be the same thoroughly lovable Henrietta Browne who would burst on the scene a few years later.)

But Petal's ideas are just a bit less practical than her husband's. Her decision to get rid of some of the maids and dump the extra work on Cook, for example, gets her the memorable talking to with which this post begins (followed by suggestions of night classes set up specially to train the formerly wealthy on basic life skills). And her inspiration to go to work as an assistant at a London hat shop, in which she was formerly a key investor, is a particular disaster (especially for the shop's existing assistant, poor Miss Filmer), and results in considerable insult to the "horse-faced" Duchess from whom Petal has been hoping to receive an important invitation.

Petal's adventures go from implausible to utterly ridiculous, but they are always amusing and frequently hilarious, in that sort of arch, campy, Noel Coward-y, P. G. Wodehouse-y way. Although the story is narrated by Petal herself, her obliviousness, vanity, and selfishness are of course the butt of the joke. One of my favorite set pieces is when Petal and Hilary invite the Penningtons for dinner, Petal ready to condescend for all she's worth over occupying their old home:

The other people who are coming are the Penningtons. They used to own Westlands, but had to sell it. I'm sure they will be interested to see all the improvements we have made in the place. I'm afraid it will make them feel terribly jealous, for they live in a wretched little bungalow at the top of the hill now and keep chickens.

But Petal is rather taken aback by Mrs. Pennington's version of the sale:

"When Jimmy came back and told me he'd sold Westlands to some of the new—to some very rich people, I felt like Christian when the load fell off his back."

And she's shocked by their laughing suggestion, when Hilary mentions having removed their family crest from the mantlepiece, that they might take it and hang it over their hen-house door.

Economy is the closest Joyce Dennys came to writing a novel, as the Dose books are more like short sketches united by a theme and the Henrietta series is in the form of a diary and presumably at least partly autobiographical. One would wish, having read this book, that she had tried her hand at fiction again, but as we know from the Henrietta saga, she did have other things keeping her busy!

Thanks again to Simon for making my long-held wish come true. I hope another publisher will soon discover the joys of Joyce and do her work the justice it deserves...