The novel begins outside the narrator’s flat in a respectable but “shabby part of London” where a new tenant is moving in. What makes this otherwise ordinary scenario noteworthy is that Mildred Lathbury - the first person narrator of the story - doesn’t get the first word in. That honor goes to Mr. Mallett, a minor character who for most of the novel hammers away at harmless (or harmless-seeming?) knocks at Mildred in particular and women in general. His “roguish” comment that opens the novel accuses Mildred of always turning up and being in the know when anything of interest is happening. Indeed, Mildred is an observer who does more speculating and/or anticipating during the novel’s opening pages than she does acting. She is an “excellent woman.” The novel’s title sort of confused me until I encountered this label enough times in the novel to recognize it to mean an unmarried woman of the church community who volunteers her time there and keeps the institution running. At best, it’s a backhanded compliment. But Mildred's role changes as the two big events upon which the novel’s plot seems to rely unfold: 1) is the arrival of the aforementioned new tenants in Mildred’s building, and 2) is the arrival of a new tenant at the vicarage near by where Mildred is friends with Father Malory and his sister Winifred. In this small world, these entrances - or disruptions of the usual order - make for some shaking up of the pleasantly dull life in the neighborhood. Mostly, they bring up questions involving marriage, fidelity, happiness, responsibility, duty, and stereotypes (particularly those that run along gender lines).
“The jingle of the little beaded cover against the milk reminded me of Dora and her giggles, her dogmatic opinions and the way she took offence so easily. The little cover, which had been her idea, seemed to symbolise all the little irritations of her company, dear kind friend though she was.” (Pym 19)
The paradox addressed here of finding a good friend to be a nuisance is one of many in the opening section of the novel. The way that something so small and seemingly innocuous as a milk cover can upset Mildred to the point of wanting “to fling it away with a grand gesture” suggests that what might appear to be trivial can touch an otherwise undetectable nerve.
“‘It depends what you set out to do,’ I said rather crossly, feeling like Alice in Wonderland. I was doing very badly here and was grateful when Rockingham came to the rescue.” (Pym 35)
This is the first allusion to Alice in Wonderland, but not the last. Mildred often functions as a grown up version of Alice, navigating an absurd grown up world of confusing relationships. The allusion here is not only to Carroll, but also the archetype of the knight-in-shining-armor. Rocky serves this romantic role here.
“‘But of course it’s not really my business.’ I did not then know to the extent I do now that practically anything may be the business of an unattached woman with no troubles of her own, who takes a kindly interest in those of her friends.” (Pym 47)
There’s irony here when Mildred claims to have “no troubles of her own”; it’s an arrogant assumption on the part of those who come to Mildred with their troubles that she is actually without any problems of her own. The greatest irony of all is that the very fact of her being “unattached” is - for many characters who approach Mildred - a huge problem to be solved by finding her a suitable spouse.
“‘We, my dear Mildred, are the observers of life. Let other people get married by all means, the more the merrier.’ He lifted the bottle, judged the amount left in it and refilled his own glass but not mine. ‘Let Dora marry if she likes. She hasn’t your talent for observation.’” (Pym 70)
William thinks he shares Mildred’s powers of observation, but fails to acknowledge how easily she will notice - and be able to interpret - his exclusionary gesture of just pouring himself wine. Although Mildred says nothing about it to William, her observation separates her from William. She is not merely an observer, but an observer who does care about those she sees. characterization
“We settled ourselves and our food at the table and I paused for a moment to draw breath before eating. The room was enormous, like something in a nightmare, one could hardly see from one end of it to the other, and as far as the eye could see was dotted with tables which were all full. In addition, a file of people moved in through a door at one end and formed a long line, fenced off from the main part of the room by a brass rail.” (Pym 77)
The visual image here of a crowded cafeteria as “like something in a nightmare” suggests Mildred’s fear of the masses. She’s fine with the small congregation at her church or smaller parties. The sentence of description runs on in the way that her horrified gaze must do to take in the space.
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