What do you think?
Rate this book
Un alma cándida
Flora parece tenerlo todo bajo control: es alta, rubia y hermosa. Y tiene su hogar, un bebé y un marido, Richard. Tiene bajo control a su amiga Meg y a su hermano, Kit, el cual ha sentido siempre por ella una gran adoración, y también a Patrick, un caprichoso novelista. Sólo Liz, una pintora bohemia, rehúsa ser una seguidora suya. Flora los seduce, los manipula y los encandila con sus destellos de dicha y entusiasmo. Todos se sienten cautivados por el refinado sometimiento que Flora ejerce en los demás; todos, menos Liz. Será ella quien les mostrará que la candidez de Flora es el veneno más dulce de todos.
El escritor Kingsley Amis describió a Elizabeth Taylor como una de las mejores novelistas inglesas del siglo xx.
El escritor Kingsley Amis describió a Elizabeth Taylor como una de las mejores novelistas inglesas del siglo xx.
264 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1964
74 people are currently reading
2422 people want to read
About the author
Elizabeth Taylor
67 books516 followersElizabeth Taylor (née Coles) was a popular English novelist and short story writer. Elizabeth Coles was born in Reading, Berkshire in 1912. She was educated at The Abbey School, Reading, and worked as a governess, as a tutor and as a librarian.
In 1936, she married John William Kendall Taylor, a businessman. She lived in Penn, Buckinghamshire, for almost all her married life.
Her first novel, At Mrs. Lippincote's, was published in 1945 and was followed by eleven more. Her short stories were published in various magazines and collected in four volumes. She also wrote a children's book.
Taylor's work is mainly concerned with the nuances of "everyday" life and situations, which she writes about with dexterity. Her shrewd but affectionate portrayals of middle class and upper middle class English life won her an audience of discriminating readers, as well as loyal friends in the world of letters.
She was a friend of the novelist Ivy Compton-Burnett and of the novelist and critic Robert Liddell.
Elizabeth Taylor died at age 63 of cancer.
Anne Tyler once compared Taylor to Jane Austen, Barbara Pym and Elizabeth Bowen -- "soul sisters all," in Tyler's words . In recent years new interest has been kindled by movie makers in her work. French director Francois Ozon, has made "The Real Life of Angel Deverell" which will be released in early 2005. American director Dan Ireland's screen adaptation of Taylor's "Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont" came out in this country first in 2006 and has made close to $1 million. A British distributor picked it up at Cannes, and the movie was released in England in 2009.
In 1936, she married John William Kendall Taylor, a businessman. She lived in Penn, Buckinghamshire, for almost all her married life.
Her first novel, At Mrs. Lippincote's, was published in 1945 and was followed by eleven more. Her short stories were published in various magazines and collected in four volumes. She also wrote a children's book.
Taylor's work is mainly concerned with the nuances of "everyday" life and situations, which she writes about with dexterity. Her shrewd but affectionate portrayals of middle class and upper middle class English life won her an audience of discriminating readers, as well as loyal friends in the world of letters.
She was a friend of the novelist Ivy Compton-Burnett and of the novelist and critic Robert Liddell.
Elizabeth Taylor died at age 63 of cancer.
Anne Tyler once compared Taylor to Jane Austen, Barbara Pym and Elizabeth Bowen -- "soul sisters all," in Tyler's words . In recent years new interest has been kindled by movie makers in her work. French director Francois Ozon, has made "The Real Life of Angel Deverell" which will be released in early 2005. American director Dan Ireland's screen adaptation of Taylor's "Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont" came out in this country first in 2006 and has made close to $1 million. A British distributor picked it up at Cannes, and the movie was released in England in 2009.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 174 reviews
May 18, 2019
I enjoyed this particular outing of Taylor’s. It’s subtle and satirical. It is slow moving and I can imagine for some readers it will be like watching paint dry. There is a wedding, a birth, an attempted suicide, a bit of tension in relationships and a lovers tiff or two. Taylor is good at observing minutiae and life’s tiny sadness’s. As is often the case with Taylor, the cast of characters is not huge. These centre on Flora, the soul of kindness of the title, and her husband Richard. Flora has everything she wants, loyal and adoring friends and relatives, a lovely home, a baby, a housekeeper she has turned into a friend and everyone protects Flora from herself. Flora only sees what she wants to see and hears what she wants to hear. Richard’s father, Percy contemplates his cat:
“Flora, in fact had given it to him and he had been obliged to take it in. In four years, he had found that Flora was not biddable after all. Although good as gold, she had inconvenient plans for other people’s pleasure, and ideas differing from her own she was not able to imagine.”
Flora’s mother had brought her up to have a rosy view of life and human nature and she has been shielded form a good deal of life’s unpleasantness. Her husband Richard contemplates why he has kept a little secret from her, a chance encounter with a neighbour Elinor when they went for a drink and a chat:
“To have kept quiet about it, had given it the significance of a secret arrangement. Now it was too late, and if Flora came to hear of it, as more than likely she might, a little puzzled frown would come between her brows – the expression she wore when she was bewildered by other standards of behaviour than her own. But we’ve preserved the face pretty well, between us, Richard thought; not fearing ageing lines, but the loss of innocence. So far, and by the skin of his teeth, he felt. The face was his responsibility now and it would surely be his fault if it were altered, if the Botticelli calm were broken, or the appealing gaze veiled.”
Flora has a lack of awareness and little sense of the effect her actions have, a good example being a letter to her mother just after her wedding, near the beginning of the book:
“Mrs Secretan took the letter and opened it. ‘You have been the most wonderful mother,’ she read. ‘I had a beautiful childhood.’ So it was to be regarded as finished? The words were the kind which might be spoken from a deathbed or to someone lying on one. If only, Mrs Secretan thought yearningly, if only Flora had written ‘You are such a wonderful mother.’ That would have made all the difference, she thought – would have made it seem that there was still a place for me.”
This is all I think, a variation on an Austen plot. If you take the character of Emma and remove her wisdom, you pretty much have Flora. The satire is on point as the reader realizes that this kind and caring character is actually a monster. Inevitably someone near her will suffer, and they do. They only one who really sees through Flora is someone who has never met her, Liz, a painter, who knows a number of Flora’s friends. There are some comic moments as well. Although this was not one of Taylor’s most critically acclaimed books it was one I appreciated, although it was like looking at a slow motion car crash.
“Flora, in fact had given it to him and he had been obliged to take it in. In four years, he had found that Flora was not biddable after all. Although good as gold, she had inconvenient plans for other people’s pleasure, and ideas differing from her own she was not able to imagine.”
Flora’s mother had brought her up to have a rosy view of life and human nature and she has been shielded form a good deal of life’s unpleasantness. Her husband Richard contemplates why he has kept a little secret from her, a chance encounter with a neighbour Elinor when they went for a drink and a chat:
“To have kept quiet about it, had given it the significance of a secret arrangement. Now it was too late, and if Flora came to hear of it, as more than likely she might, a little puzzled frown would come between her brows – the expression she wore when she was bewildered by other standards of behaviour than her own. But we’ve preserved the face pretty well, between us, Richard thought; not fearing ageing lines, but the loss of innocence. So far, and by the skin of his teeth, he felt. The face was his responsibility now and it would surely be his fault if it were altered, if the Botticelli calm were broken, or the appealing gaze veiled.”
Flora has a lack of awareness and little sense of the effect her actions have, a good example being a letter to her mother just after her wedding, near the beginning of the book:
“Mrs Secretan took the letter and opened it. ‘You have been the most wonderful mother,’ she read. ‘I had a beautiful childhood.’ So it was to be regarded as finished? The words were the kind which might be spoken from a deathbed or to someone lying on one. If only, Mrs Secretan thought yearningly, if only Flora had written ‘You are such a wonderful mother.’ That would have made all the difference, she thought – would have made it seem that there was still a place for me.”
This is all I think, a variation on an Austen plot. If you take the character of Emma and remove her wisdom, you pretty much have Flora. The satire is on point as the reader realizes that this kind and caring character is actually a monster. Inevitably someone near her will suffer, and they do. They only one who really sees through Flora is someone who has never met her, Liz, a painter, who knows a number of Flora’s friends. There are some comic moments as well. Although this was not one of Taylor’s most critically acclaimed books it was one I appreciated, although it was like looking at a slow motion car crash.
July 3, 2018
I imagine that anyone who picks up this novel will know someone like Flora, the soul of kindness of the title. Someone who is attractive, charming and accomplished, but without insight, self-awareness or a great deal of empathy; someone who is popular but can drive her friends and family to distraction.
She is the woman that Jane Austen’s Emma Woodhouse might have become – albeit in another age – had she not been guided by, and desirous of the high regard, of Mrs Weston and Mr Knightley ….
The story opens on Flora’s wedding day, and from the very first paragraph Elizabeth Taylor draws her wonderfully well:
‘Towards the end of the bridegroom’s speech, the bride turned aside and began to throw crumbs of the wedding cake through an opening in the marquee to the doves outside. She did so with gentle absorption, and more doves came down from their wooden house above the stables. Although she caused a little rustle of amusement among the guests, she did not know it: her husband was embarrassed by her behaviour and thought it early in their married life to be so; but she did not know that either.’
Flora was the carefully protected only child of widowed mother, and almost everyone she knew would follow that example, would love and protect her too. It was to her great credit that she hadn’t been irredeemably spoiled, that she realised she had been blessed and that she wanted to do everything that she could with the people she loved.
Her intentions were always good, she always charmed the recipient of her kindness into accepting her ideas, but she never saw that they were never as happy as she thought they would be.
Take the letter that she wrote to her mother on her wedding day.
‘Mrs Secretan took the letter and opened it. ‘You have been the most wonderful mother,’ she read. ‘I had a beautiful childhood.’ So it was to be regarded as finished? The words were the kind which might be spoken from a deathbed or to someone lying on one. If only, Mrs Secretan thought yearningly, if only Flora had written ‘You are such a wonderful mother.’ That would have made all the difference, she thought – would have made it seem that there was still a place for me.’
When she read the letter through again, her mother realised that Flora had meant well; she knew that she always meant well, even when she made terrible mistakes.
That insensitive choice of words had no serious consequences, but other acts of kindness would.
Flora encouraged her widowed father-in-law to marry his lady friend, not realising that they were both quite fond of their own homes and that the set-up they had suited them very well indeed.
She said quite firmly that her friend Meg’s younger brother, Kit, who had always idolised her, must pursue his dream of becoming an actor; even though his sister and everyone who had seen his efforts saw that he did not have the necessary talent.
Flora decided that her mother should find a housekeeper/companion so that she wouldn’t be lonely without her daughter. She failed to understand that her mother needed more than that, and that she should be more than a guest in her home.
It didn’t help that nobody told her the their real feelings; that accepted that her intentions were good and carried on.
Richard, her husband, is guilty of this; but he sees the consequences of his wife’s kindnesses and he is often able to smooth over some of the damage that they do. But as he seeks to protect her he cannot tell her of his growing friendship with a near neighbour ….
Flora is a wonderful creation, an utterly believable, fallible human being; and it says much for Elizabeth Taylor’s skill as novelist that she can draw readers into her story even as she is revealing her flaws and the unhappy consequences of her many kindnesses.
Her writing is beautiful, it is subtle and it has a lovely clarity. She has the insight and understanding of people and their relationships that Flora lacks in abundance, and she knows exactly which details are worthy of notice and will illuminate her story.
That story has a serious theme but it there is a smattering of wit and humour.
The dialogue is particularly fine; there are some memorable quick exchanges and longer conversations that really ring true.
Every character and every relationship is distinctive, and – as is almost always the case with Elizabeth Taylor – the supporting cast is wonderfully well done.
I particularly liked Mrs Secretan’s housekeeper/companion, Miss Folley:
‘The next day, there was more church in the morning. Social church, with hats. Richard was left with Miss Folley, whom he watched with a wary eye, tried to avoid. She kept offering him things — a mince pie, a glass of her sloe gin, a dish of marzipan strawberries.
He did not quite like to get out his briefcase and set to work again on Christmas morning, so he looked about for a book to read. No newspapers: no market prices. Mrs. Secretan was reading Elizabeth and her German Garden — ‘for the umpteenth time,’ she said. ‘Such a beautiful book. How much one would have liked to have known her.
Richard thought that for his part we would have tried to run a mile in the other direction, if such a risk had risen. He had ‘picked’ at the book once, as he put it; and had been vaguely repelled, but because he could never justify his reactions to art and literature, he kept quiet. I’m a businessman, he thought. This bolstering-up reflection he also kept to himself. …
Ageing ladies’ books filled the shelves — My Life as This or That — he skipped the title — The English Rock Garden, Rosemary for Remembrance, Down the Garden Path, The Herbaceous Border Under Three Reigns.
‘If you’re looking for a nice, pulling book,’ Miss Folley began, coming in to bully him with Elvas plums.
‘No, no,” he said, straightening quickly, backing away from the shelves. ‘I never read.’
He would have his little joke, she thought; and laughed accordingly.’
This is such an accomplished novel, but it hasn’t left as strong an impression on me as I thought it would. I can’t quite explain why, but I think it might be because the characters were quite scattered this book feels less ‘whole’ than others.
It was love again though, I appreciate that all of Elizabeth Taylor’s novels are distinctive and yet they have enough in common to sit together as siblings.
I’m looking forward to picking up another one soon, to read or to re-read.
She is the woman that Jane Austen’s Emma Woodhouse might have become – albeit in another age – had she not been guided by, and desirous of the high regard, of Mrs Weston and Mr Knightley ….
The story opens on Flora’s wedding day, and from the very first paragraph Elizabeth Taylor draws her wonderfully well:
‘Towards the end of the bridegroom’s speech, the bride turned aside and began to throw crumbs of the wedding cake through an opening in the marquee to the doves outside. She did so with gentle absorption, and more doves came down from their wooden house above the stables. Although she caused a little rustle of amusement among the guests, she did not know it: her husband was embarrassed by her behaviour and thought it early in their married life to be so; but she did not know that either.’
Flora was the carefully protected only child of widowed mother, and almost everyone she knew would follow that example, would love and protect her too. It was to her great credit that she hadn’t been irredeemably spoiled, that she realised she had been blessed and that she wanted to do everything that she could with the people she loved.
Her intentions were always good, she always charmed the recipient of her kindness into accepting her ideas, but she never saw that they were never as happy as she thought they would be.
Take the letter that she wrote to her mother on her wedding day.
‘Mrs Secretan took the letter and opened it. ‘You have been the most wonderful mother,’ she read. ‘I had a beautiful childhood.’ So it was to be regarded as finished? The words were the kind which might be spoken from a deathbed or to someone lying on one. If only, Mrs Secretan thought yearningly, if only Flora had written ‘You are such a wonderful mother.’ That would have made all the difference, she thought – would have made it seem that there was still a place for me.’
When she read the letter through again, her mother realised that Flora had meant well; she knew that she always meant well, even when she made terrible mistakes.
That insensitive choice of words had no serious consequences, but other acts of kindness would.
Flora encouraged her widowed father-in-law to marry his lady friend, not realising that they were both quite fond of their own homes and that the set-up they had suited them very well indeed.
She said quite firmly that her friend Meg’s younger brother, Kit, who had always idolised her, must pursue his dream of becoming an actor; even though his sister and everyone who had seen his efforts saw that he did not have the necessary talent.
Flora decided that her mother should find a housekeeper/companion so that she wouldn’t be lonely without her daughter. She failed to understand that her mother needed more than that, and that she should be more than a guest in her home.
It didn’t help that nobody told her the their real feelings; that accepted that her intentions were good and carried on.
Richard, her husband, is guilty of this; but he sees the consequences of his wife’s kindnesses and he is often able to smooth over some of the damage that they do. But as he seeks to protect her he cannot tell her of his growing friendship with a near neighbour ….
Flora is a wonderful creation, an utterly believable, fallible human being; and it says much for Elizabeth Taylor’s skill as novelist that she can draw readers into her story even as she is revealing her flaws and the unhappy consequences of her many kindnesses.
Her writing is beautiful, it is subtle and it has a lovely clarity. She has the insight and understanding of people and their relationships that Flora lacks in abundance, and she knows exactly which details are worthy of notice and will illuminate her story.
That story has a serious theme but it there is a smattering of wit and humour.
The dialogue is particularly fine; there are some memorable quick exchanges and longer conversations that really ring true.
Every character and every relationship is distinctive, and – as is almost always the case with Elizabeth Taylor – the supporting cast is wonderfully well done.
I particularly liked Mrs Secretan’s housekeeper/companion, Miss Folley:
‘The next day, there was more church in the morning. Social church, with hats. Richard was left with Miss Folley, whom he watched with a wary eye, tried to avoid. She kept offering him things — a mince pie, a glass of her sloe gin, a dish of marzipan strawberries.
He did not quite like to get out his briefcase and set to work again on Christmas morning, so he looked about for a book to read. No newspapers: no market prices. Mrs. Secretan was reading Elizabeth and her German Garden — ‘for the umpteenth time,’ she said. ‘Such a beautiful book. How much one would have liked to have known her.
Richard thought that for his part we would have tried to run a mile in the other direction, if such a risk had risen. He had ‘picked’ at the book once, as he put it; and had been vaguely repelled, but because he could never justify his reactions to art and literature, he kept quiet. I’m a businessman, he thought. This bolstering-up reflection he also kept to himself. …
Ageing ladies’ books filled the shelves — My Life as This or That — he skipped the title — The English Rock Garden, Rosemary for Remembrance, Down the Garden Path, The Herbaceous Border Under Three Reigns.
‘If you’re looking for a nice, pulling book,’ Miss Folley began, coming in to bully him with Elvas plums.
‘No, no,” he said, straightening quickly, backing away from the shelves. ‘I never read.’
He would have his little joke, she thought; and laughed accordingly.’
This is such an accomplished novel, but it hasn’t left as strong an impression on me as I thought it would. I can’t quite explain why, but I think it might be because the characters were quite scattered this book feels less ‘whole’ than others.
It was love again though, I appreciate that all of Elizabeth Taylor’s novels are distinctive and yet they have enough in common to sit together as siblings.
I’m looking forward to picking up another one soon, to read or to re-read.
September 8, 2018
“she had always meant well. That intention had been seen clearly, lying behind some of her biggest mistakes.”
“I’ve never done anything to harm anyone in all my life.”
“No; of course not, darling. No one is kinder.”
“Other people have to live with the truth about themselves.”
Kindness is a virtue. Generally speaking, to be called “the soul of kindness” is high praise. However, Elizabeth Taylor isn’t dealing in generalities in her ninth novel, The Soul of Kindness . Here she explores kindness as blindness, presenting us with a young, newly married protagonist, Flora Quartermaine (nee Secretan), whose compassion and seeming goodwill cause all sorts of trouble. In the early pages of the book, Flora is a character straight out of Disney: a beautiful and saccharine young woman, on whose fingers doves gently alight. Before long, she’s setting up her orphaned and unlucky friend, Meg, with a gay writer acquaintance, Patrick Barlow. Flora is apparently oblivious of his sexual orientation, in spite of the innuendo of others and his evident preoccupation with his “friend” Frankie. Equally unaware that Meg’s brother, Kit, is hopelessly untalented, Flora encourages and “inspires” him to pursue a stillborn acting career, when his sister is clearly in need of his financial contribution to the household. Meanwhile, Flora’s father-in-law, Percy, is given a cat as a companion he doesn’t want, and he is urged to marry his long-time mistress, even though the two clearly prefer living apart.
Why does Flora meddle in this way? The author writes: “Flora’s worries were other people’s worries. With these she tirelessly concerned herself.” She believes herself kind and desirous of the best for her friends and relations, while everyone else finds her naïve, obtuse, and even stupid. “Someone always has to look after Flora and let her think she’s looking after them,” observes one character. She is certainly “high maintenance”. Mrs. Secretan, Flora’s mother, regards her daughter’s wedding day as a sort of ritualistic handing over—from mother to husband—of a “precious burden”. Best friend Meg is a “nannie” to her. While Meg disapproves of cosseting, she recognizes “that it would be dangerous for it to be discontinued—like putting an orchid out into the frosty air.” As for Flora’s husband, Richard: he has the responsibility of preserving her face from any signs of stress—due to the loss of innocence: “it would surely be his fault if it were altered, if the Botticelli calm were broken, or the appealing gaze veiled.” In short, everyone around Flora is more or less complicit in ensuring that she not be presented with “a glimpse of herself as someone she could never bear to live with.”
In all the novels I’ve read by Taylor, she shows herself to be keenly interested in the matter of self-deception. Her characters often tell themselves comforting stories about their own motivations, actions, and lives. They work to hide unpleasant truths from themselves as much as from others. In her seventh and ninth novels, Angel and The Soul of Kindness, Taylor appears to be interested in the role nurture plays in the development of unusually imperceptive, egotistical personalities. At the heart of both narratives, there is an indulgent, overprotective mother and a willful, pathologically oblivious daughter. The daughters, Angel and Flora, are extreme cases—even for Taylor; bordering on untenable and unconvincing, they are almost caricatures. Angel, a writer of third-rate potboilers, fancies herself a literary giant. (Fate strangely treats her kindly for a time, and she becomes enormously wealthy from her novel writing.) Flora, on the other hand, is blind to “otherness”. Though reasonably capable socially, she is self-centred and incapable of perceiving that the needs, wants, and goals of other people differ from her own.
Taylor’s novel, published in 1964, has an interesting resonance over fifty years later in this age of “helicopter parents”, who wish to spare their children every discomfort and distress. The sheltering and coddling we see from Mrs Secretan (and from many modern parents) ensure that young people remain childlike and emotionally immature into adulthood. The untalented Kit’s unrealistic aspirations are in part due to the excessive praise he received as a child for his roles in school plays. Such praise, Taylor intimates, is a “disservice” to the young. Meg speculates about the damage of parental indulgence, wondering “what, if anything at all, Flora knew about people. Her mother had encouraged only the prettiest view of human nature and no later aspects she may have come across seemed to have made an impression.” Taylor also makes clear that too much investment in a child’s life leaves a mother without an identity when the child leaves. Mrs. Secretan, we are told, planned everything down to the last detail. “But,” in doing so, she realizes, “I forgot myself and the future.”
Taylor often likes to provide her protagonists with foils. In this book, we have Flora—happy in domesticity, young motherhood, and innocence or obliviousness—and Elinor Pringle, who lives just down from Flora’s crescent in affluent St. John’s Wood. About the same age as Flora, Elinor is the lonely wife of an MP, who “doesn’t give a damn” about what she does and who prefers to spend his limited spare time writing dull plays peopled with male characters. Lonely, childless, and bitter about her marriage, Elinor spends many of her days tracking down rare and costly pieces of furniture and objets d’art. She goes on solo trips, eats alone in guest-house dining rooms with a book as her only companion, and walks deserted esplanades during the off-season. Having run into her several times in Mayfair, Flora’s husband, Richard, becomes quite friendly with Elinor, keeping the relationship from his wife. His suppers with his new female friend, especially those that occur when Flora is in the nursing home after the birth of their daughter, lead him to compare the two women. On one occasion he thinks that loyal Flora, unlike Elinor, would be the ideal political wife, but after another visit with the intelligent, opinionated Elinor, he is troubled to have disloyal thoughts about Flora. When his wife later rushes to the door to greet him, he uncharacteristically observes that she’s “far too tall” to be speaking in “such a little girl voice.”
Taylor provides an even more dramatic contrast to Flora in the person of Liz Corbett, “a fattish young woman with untidy hair”. Slatternly Liz is Patrick Barlow’s friend and an artist. She lives in a squalid flat with all of her painting materials in disarray about her, but in spite of the mess, even filth, of her surroundings, she produces paintings of great delicacy and increasing originality. Unlike the other female characters in the novel, and in spite of Taylor’s unappealing portrait of her, Liz is the only one to have an independent purpose, a vision of what she wants to accomplish. “I don’t want to enchant people. I want to shake them up. . . . People under spells are half dead,” she tells Patrick. “I’ve a lifetime’s work in my head. . . . Some explorations to be made.” Liz also happens to be the only character in the novel with the guts, the toughness, to confront Flora.
I found Taylor’s The Soul of Kindness, a far more unified, mature, and accomplished piece than the many other novels by her I’ve recently read. Characters and plot are better controlled by the author, and all work well to develop, serve, and amplify a central theme. Reading this book was a rewarding experience.
“I’ve never done anything to harm anyone in all my life.”
“No; of course not, darling. No one is kinder.”
“Other people have to live with the truth about themselves.”
Kindness is a virtue. Generally speaking, to be called “the soul of kindness” is high praise. However, Elizabeth Taylor isn’t dealing in generalities in her ninth novel, The Soul of Kindness . Here she explores kindness as blindness, presenting us with a young, newly married protagonist, Flora Quartermaine (nee Secretan), whose compassion and seeming goodwill cause all sorts of trouble. In the early pages of the book, Flora is a character straight out of Disney: a beautiful and saccharine young woman, on whose fingers doves gently alight. Before long, she’s setting up her orphaned and unlucky friend, Meg, with a gay writer acquaintance, Patrick Barlow. Flora is apparently oblivious of his sexual orientation, in spite of the innuendo of others and his evident preoccupation with his “friend” Frankie. Equally unaware that Meg’s brother, Kit, is hopelessly untalented, Flora encourages and “inspires” him to pursue a stillborn acting career, when his sister is clearly in need of his financial contribution to the household. Meanwhile, Flora’s father-in-law, Percy, is given a cat as a companion he doesn’t want, and he is urged to marry his long-time mistress, even though the two clearly prefer living apart.
Why does Flora meddle in this way? The author writes: “Flora’s worries were other people’s worries. With these she tirelessly concerned herself.” She believes herself kind and desirous of the best for her friends and relations, while everyone else finds her naïve, obtuse, and even stupid. “Someone always has to look after Flora and let her think she’s looking after them,” observes one character. She is certainly “high maintenance”. Mrs. Secretan, Flora’s mother, regards her daughter’s wedding day as a sort of ritualistic handing over—from mother to husband—of a “precious burden”. Best friend Meg is a “nannie” to her. While Meg disapproves of cosseting, she recognizes “that it would be dangerous for it to be discontinued—like putting an orchid out into the frosty air.” As for Flora’s husband, Richard: he has the responsibility of preserving her face from any signs of stress—due to the loss of innocence: “it would surely be his fault if it were altered, if the Botticelli calm were broken, or the appealing gaze veiled.” In short, everyone around Flora is more or less complicit in ensuring that she not be presented with “a glimpse of herself as someone she could never bear to live with.”
In all the novels I’ve read by Taylor, she shows herself to be keenly interested in the matter of self-deception. Her characters often tell themselves comforting stories about their own motivations, actions, and lives. They work to hide unpleasant truths from themselves as much as from others. In her seventh and ninth novels, Angel and The Soul of Kindness, Taylor appears to be interested in the role nurture plays in the development of unusually imperceptive, egotistical personalities. At the heart of both narratives, there is an indulgent, overprotective mother and a willful, pathologically oblivious daughter. The daughters, Angel and Flora, are extreme cases—even for Taylor; bordering on untenable and unconvincing, they are almost caricatures. Angel, a writer of third-rate potboilers, fancies herself a literary giant. (Fate strangely treats her kindly for a time, and she becomes enormously wealthy from her novel writing.) Flora, on the other hand, is blind to “otherness”. Though reasonably capable socially, she is self-centred and incapable of perceiving that the needs, wants, and goals of other people differ from her own.
Taylor’s novel, published in 1964, has an interesting resonance over fifty years later in this age of “helicopter parents”, who wish to spare their children every discomfort and distress. The sheltering and coddling we see from Mrs Secretan (and from many modern parents) ensure that young people remain childlike and emotionally immature into adulthood. The untalented Kit’s unrealistic aspirations are in part due to the excessive praise he received as a child for his roles in school plays. Such praise, Taylor intimates, is a “disservice” to the young. Meg speculates about the damage of parental indulgence, wondering “what, if anything at all, Flora knew about people. Her mother had encouraged only the prettiest view of human nature and no later aspects she may have come across seemed to have made an impression.” Taylor also makes clear that too much investment in a child’s life leaves a mother without an identity when the child leaves. Mrs. Secretan, we are told, planned everything down to the last detail. “But,” in doing so, she realizes, “I forgot myself and the future.”
Taylor often likes to provide her protagonists with foils. In this book, we have Flora—happy in domesticity, young motherhood, and innocence or obliviousness—and Elinor Pringle, who lives just down from Flora’s crescent in affluent St. John’s Wood. About the same age as Flora, Elinor is the lonely wife of an MP, who “doesn’t give a damn” about what she does and who prefers to spend his limited spare time writing dull plays peopled with male characters. Lonely, childless, and bitter about her marriage, Elinor spends many of her days tracking down rare and costly pieces of furniture and objets d’art. She goes on solo trips, eats alone in guest-house dining rooms with a book as her only companion, and walks deserted esplanades during the off-season. Having run into her several times in Mayfair, Flora’s husband, Richard, becomes quite friendly with Elinor, keeping the relationship from his wife. His suppers with his new female friend, especially those that occur when Flora is in the nursing home after the birth of their daughter, lead him to compare the two women. On one occasion he thinks that loyal Flora, unlike Elinor, would be the ideal political wife, but after another visit with the intelligent, opinionated Elinor, he is troubled to have disloyal thoughts about Flora. When his wife later rushes to the door to greet him, he uncharacteristically observes that she’s “far too tall” to be speaking in “such a little girl voice.”
Taylor provides an even more dramatic contrast to Flora in the person of Liz Corbett, “a fattish young woman with untidy hair”. Slatternly Liz is Patrick Barlow’s friend and an artist. She lives in a squalid flat with all of her painting materials in disarray about her, but in spite of the mess, even filth, of her surroundings, she produces paintings of great delicacy and increasing originality. Unlike the other female characters in the novel, and in spite of Taylor’s unappealing portrait of her, Liz is the only one to have an independent purpose, a vision of what she wants to accomplish. “I don’t want to enchant people. I want to shake them up. . . . People under spells are half dead,” she tells Patrick. “I’ve a lifetime’s work in my head. . . . Some explorations to be made.” Liz also happens to be the only character in the novel with the guts, the toughness, to confront Flora.
I found Taylor’s The Soul of Kindness, a far more unified, mature, and accomplished piece than the many other novels by her I’ve recently read. Characters and plot are better controlled by the author, and all work well to develop, serve, and amplify a central theme. Reading this book was a rewarding experience.
September 4, 2022
Flora was one of those well meaning people who just wanted everyone she loved to be happy. However, she thought she knew better than her friends and family themselves what was best for them, so ignored any protestations to the contrary, and ended up making things worse for all. She never knew it herself, she was clueless to any harm done, because she meant well, of course, and since she was so beautiful and kind, she had to be protected and coddled.
Elizabeth Taylor tells this story with her inimitable wicked humor and sharp asides that I have come to expect from her, and is the reason that reading her novels are such a pleasure for me. It's also the reason that she is one of Virago Books most published authors.
At my age, I have learned to keep my distance from individuals like this, because I can realize that it's not about doing good at all, it's about that nice warm feeling the do-gooder gets from having "helped." But it sure was fun knowing that Taylor realized it too.
Elizabeth Taylor tells this story with her inimitable wicked humor and sharp asides that I have come to expect from her, and is the reason that reading her novels are such a pleasure for me. It's also the reason that she is one of Virago Books most published authors.
At my age, I have learned to keep my distance from individuals like this, because I can realize that it's not about doing good at all, it's about that nice warm feeling the do-gooder gets from having "helped." But it sure was fun knowing that Taylor realized it too.
June 12, 2023
Patrick wiped his eyes. ‘They say that Goya lived ten lives,’ he said. ‘I’ve lived half a one, and found it too much.’
Lord preserve us from the kindness of someone like Flora Quartermaine. She breezes through her life always intending the best for people (and of course, she knows exactly what the best is despite what they may think to the contrary). What she does, in reality, is leave a trail of hurt, discontentment, and destruction wherever she goes.
I made an immediate literary reference to Flora, that reference being Austen’s Emma. But, given the choice, I believe I would opt for Emma’s brand of meddling–just as misguided, but far less destructive.
Early in the novel, we are treated to Mrs. Secretan's hurt reaction to a letter left for her by her daughter. The letter is hurtful in a very careless way. It is our first inkling of what is to come.
She read the letter through again, telling herself that Flora had meant well, meant very well, poor girl. In fact she had always meant well. That intention had been seen clearly, lying behind some of her biggest mistakes.
In exposing Flora to us, Taylor offers us a menagerie of characters, all of them very true to life, and all of them carrying their own burdens. Along with her mother, there are her beleaguered husband, Richard; best friend, Meg, in love with the wrong man; Meg’s younger brother, Kit, who idolizes Flora and places too great a weight on her opinions; Patrick, a man struggling with a secret that is all too well known among his friends; Percy and Ba, Richard’s father and his mistress, whose lives are upended; the neighbor, Elinor, who simply needs a friend; and Mrs. Lodge, who is held captive from the life she longs for by Flora’s self-centered attachment to her.
Everything, for these characters, must be done in Flora’s interests, not their own. She must never be upset or allowed to see the damage she does, for she always “intends” so much good. We are given only one character who is allowed to see Flora without sentiment, and that character is Liz Corbett, who does not know Flora at all and clearly sees the true impact she has on others and despises her for it.
Flora is not the only clueless character in the novel, of course. All the others have blind spots where they wish to. Not one of them is facing the truth head-on, and they are as clueless about one another as they are about themselves. Still, in the midst of all this, Taylor’s cutting humor makes you laugh.
He could leave me in the morning lying stretched dead on the floor. And if anyone later in the day asked him how I was, he’d say, “Fine. Fine. Thank you”; and then he might suddenly remember and say, “Well, no, as a matter of fact, she’s dead.”’ Richard, carving off another chop for himself, laughed loudly. He was deeply relieved that the conversation had taken a lighter tone.
Like each of her other novels I have read, The Soul of Kindness is a subtle glimpse into almost every aspect of the spectrum of human nature. Flora’s lack of self-awareness and her lack of empathy for others is a major theme, but we also see the damages of misplaced love, bad marriage, loneliness, guilt, jealousy, and the desperation that comes from feeling worthless or unable to measure up to expectation.
Clearly, for me, Elizabeth Taylor has done it again. How ever does she weave such depth into plots that seem so simple and unassuming on the surface? When I have reached the end of her canon, I suspect I will cry and miss her terribly.
Lord preserve us from the kindness of someone like Flora Quartermaine. She breezes through her life always intending the best for people (and of course, she knows exactly what the best is despite what they may think to the contrary). What she does, in reality, is leave a trail of hurt, discontentment, and destruction wherever she goes.
I made an immediate literary reference to Flora, that reference being Austen’s Emma. But, given the choice, I believe I would opt for Emma’s brand of meddling–just as misguided, but far less destructive.
Early in the novel, we are treated to Mrs. Secretan's hurt reaction to a letter left for her by her daughter. The letter is hurtful in a very careless way. It is our first inkling of what is to come.
She read the letter through again, telling herself that Flora had meant well, meant very well, poor girl. In fact she had always meant well. That intention had been seen clearly, lying behind some of her biggest mistakes.
In exposing Flora to us, Taylor offers us a menagerie of characters, all of them very true to life, and all of them carrying their own burdens. Along with her mother, there are her beleaguered husband, Richard; best friend, Meg, in love with the wrong man; Meg’s younger brother, Kit, who idolizes Flora and places too great a weight on her opinions; Patrick, a man struggling with a secret that is all too well known among his friends; Percy and Ba, Richard’s father and his mistress, whose lives are upended; the neighbor, Elinor, who simply needs a friend; and Mrs. Lodge, who is held captive from the life she longs for by Flora’s self-centered attachment to her.
Everything, for these characters, must be done in Flora’s interests, not their own. She must never be upset or allowed to see the damage she does, for she always “intends” so much good. We are given only one character who is allowed to see Flora without sentiment, and that character is Liz Corbett, who does not know Flora at all and clearly sees the true impact she has on others and despises her for it.
Flora is not the only clueless character in the novel, of course. All the others have blind spots where they wish to. Not one of them is facing the truth head-on, and they are as clueless about one another as they are about themselves. Still, in the midst of all this, Taylor’s cutting humor makes you laugh.
He could leave me in the morning lying stretched dead on the floor. And if anyone later in the day asked him how I was, he’d say, “Fine. Fine. Thank you”; and then he might suddenly remember and say, “Well, no, as a matter of fact, she’s dead.”’ Richard, carving off another chop for himself, laughed loudly. He was deeply relieved that the conversation had taken a lighter tone.
Like each of her other novels I have read, The Soul of Kindness is a subtle glimpse into almost every aspect of the spectrum of human nature. Flora’s lack of self-awareness and her lack of empathy for others is a major theme, but we also see the damages of misplaced love, bad marriage, loneliness, guilt, jealousy, and the desperation that comes from feeling worthless or unable to measure up to expectation.
Clearly, for me, Elizabeth Taylor has done it again. How ever does she weave such depth into plots that seem so simple and unassuming on the surface? When I have reached the end of her canon, I suspect I will cry and miss her terribly.
March 22, 2020
This is my 5th novel I have read by Elizabeth Taylor. I have 7 more to go, along with 3 short story collections. I rated this as 3.5 stars, so rounded up it’s a 4.
I liked this novel (her ninth novel published in 1964) because I am getting used to her style, but would not say this should be the first book that a Taylor neophyte should read. For my money of the little I have read by her I would say ‘Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont’. Although it should be noted that a novel I have not read yet, “Angel,” was selected by a UK book marketing organization (Book Marketing Council) as one of the “Best Novels of Our Time.” And the NYRB besides “Angel” re-issued “A View of the Harbour” and “A Game of Hide and Seek.” So there you have it – I’m of no use whatsoever. 😊
The main protagonist in this novel is Flora, I would bet a woman in her 30s, who is beautiful and has led a pampered life, and is self-centered/egotistical. She expects that the world revolves around her, and that people should be guided by her opinions. But some of the characters in this novel take offense to that.
But Taylor has a very subtle way of ultimately getting the reader to agree that Flora is self-centered/egotistical. And I think that is what makes the novel shine in part. Taylor didn’t hit me over the head with this, because I think if she had I would have been rather bored by the book. You had to slowly realize this as you progressed through the novel.
There is one character in the novel who is gay. This book was written in 1964 – the character is a stereotype of what people in those days perceived a gay man to be. I just have to remember when the book was written…
I had to look up one word that I had never seen before: gyve. Here is the context: “As it was Mrs. Lodge’s day off, Flora had made a special dish for Richard’s dinner – his favorite steak pie. She had a feeling today that she must propitiate him, draw him close to her with every gyve she could fine.” Gyve: a fetter or shackle. (I don’t know what a fetter is…now I have to look that up…I’ve heard it in the context of fetter and chains.) Hmm, I don’t think I would want to be married to Flora. 😊
The version I read was a Virago Modern Classic with an excellent Introduction by Paul Bailey (UK novelist, writer of Booker Prize nominated Peter Smart's Confessions and Gabriel’s Lament. The introductions are really helpful to me, I generally read them after I am done with the novel because I want to go into the novel relatively naïve. When I am done, I find that the Introduction helps me resolve issues and/or fill in the blanks.
Review: https://www.nytimes.com/1964/06/28/ar... (JimZ: Spoilers are in this review so perhaps read after the novel)
I liked this novel (her ninth novel published in 1964) because I am getting used to her style, but would not say this should be the first book that a Taylor neophyte should read. For my money of the little I have read by her I would say ‘Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont’. Although it should be noted that a novel I have not read yet, “Angel,” was selected by a UK book marketing organization (Book Marketing Council) as one of the “Best Novels of Our Time.” And the NYRB besides “Angel” re-issued “A View of the Harbour” and “A Game of Hide and Seek.” So there you have it – I’m of no use whatsoever. 😊
The main protagonist in this novel is Flora, I would bet a woman in her 30s, who is beautiful and has led a pampered life, and is self-centered/egotistical. She expects that the world revolves around her, and that people should be guided by her opinions. But some of the characters in this novel take offense to that.
But Taylor has a very subtle way of ultimately getting the reader to agree that Flora is self-centered/egotistical. And I think that is what makes the novel shine in part. Taylor didn’t hit me over the head with this, because I think if she had I would have been rather bored by the book. You had to slowly realize this as you progressed through the novel.
There is one character in the novel who is gay. This book was written in 1964 – the character is a stereotype of what people in those days perceived a gay man to be. I just have to remember when the book was written…
I had to look up one word that I had never seen before: gyve. Here is the context: “As it was Mrs. Lodge’s day off, Flora had made a special dish for Richard’s dinner – his favorite steak pie. She had a feeling today that she must propitiate him, draw him close to her with every gyve she could fine.” Gyve: a fetter or shackle. (I don’t know what a fetter is…now I have to look that up…I’ve heard it in the context of fetter and chains.) Hmm, I don’t think I would want to be married to Flora. 😊
The version I read was a Virago Modern Classic with an excellent Introduction by Paul Bailey (UK novelist, writer of Booker Prize nominated Peter Smart's Confessions and Gabriel’s Lament. The introductions are really helpful to me, I generally read them after I am done with the novel because I want to go into the novel relatively naïve. When I am done, I find that the Introduction helps me resolve issues and/or fill in the blanks.
Review: https://www.nytimes.com/1964/06/28/ar... (JimZ: Spoilers are in this review so perhaps read after the novel)
April 18, 2020
But no-one was cross with Flora, Flora thought, and her smile widened and she laughed. She hadn't the slightest idea of Meg's meaning.
This is quite different from the book I expected from the blurb and reviews: for one, Flora is less of a central figure and doesn't really have a role in some of the sub-stories that play out; for another, she's not the smiling yet manipulative woman I thought but is actually a woman who is naive to the point of stupidity though she doesn't, of course, know it. Spoilt, yes - a bit silly, yes - over-protected, yes; but well-meaning and just a bit dumb: the opening scene where she is feeding doves and is photographed with one perched on her hand reminded me of Disney's Snow White, only Flora is not alone but is at her own wedding where she is paying no attention to her own new husband's speech.
While the book seems to blame her for the unhappiness of the people around her, it seems to me that really they abdicate agency and responsibility: Flora may suggest that her father-in-law should marry his mistress but she doesn't do any more. If they are less happy married than as lovers, it's hardly her fault.
The structure is loose with lots of mini stories taking place at the same time, and I would have preferred something more incisive. Some plots fizzle out , others reach no resolution, and it's hard to know if anyone is any different by the end. Has Flora learned something about herself or will she sweep it away and continue living in her lovely little golden bubble?
Taylor's writing is elegant and precise, and there's a vaguely sardonic air about the tone but overall this feels like a short story unnaturally padded out to novel length.
June 24, 2024
“Someone always has to look after Flora, and let her think she’s looking after them.”
With each book of hers I read, Elizabeth Taylor climbs up my list of favorite authors. With realism and a biting sarcasm (that’s hilarious, but warm and knowing rather than cruel), she explores distinct and fascinating characters who come to life in their believability, yet never quite do what I expect them to do. They’re a diverse set, and we see their creativity, their deceptiveness, and their disappointments, but mostly their humanity. Their problems aren’t simple, and defy quick fixes. I leave her stories strangely satisfied, even though I usually have no sure idea how things will come out down the road for these people she has created.
In The Soul of Kindness, Taylor gives us an unusual main character: Flora Quartermaine. She’s at the center of the story, but it’s her impact on those around her that makes up the plot, and they make an interesting group. Flora’s husband Richard works long hours running the business he inherited from his father. Her mother is a widow, and at a loss since her only daughter married and moved from the country to London. Meg is Flora’s best friend and in love with the unattainable Patrick, a friend of both Flora and Meg. Meg’s brother, infatuated with Flora since he was young, is her pet project--she wants to help him become an actor.
Flora has been over-protected all her life, by her mother and by her friends. She has a kind manner and pretty face, and they can’t bear to hurt her feelings, so she gets away with “helping” them (actually trying to “fix” them by molding them into who she thinks they should be).
You may know someone like this, someone who is certain they know what’s right for you. It reminded me of something, and bear with me because this may sound like a crazy analogy, but I think it fits. Lately I’ve noticed a trend: people going WAY out of their way to open doors for me. I mean to a crazy extreme. I don’t walk any different (yet) than I always have, and don’t believe I appear to need help. It’s one thing to not slam a door in my face as we’re walking into the bank or the post office or the gift shop. It’s quite another to stand there holding the door open, staring at me when I am fifty feet away in the parking lot! They make me feel like I have to run across the parking lot so I don’t leave them standing there too long. Good grief--please stop it.
It’s like people are out there looking to help you with things you don’t need or want help with. I think it’s not so much that they want to be nice, more that they desperately want to see themselves as a nice people. I want to tell them, if you really want to be nice, just open your eyes and look out for needs that really do exist. And that’s what I wanted to say to Flora in this story. Open your eyes! It’s not about you! People have their own lives to live, and they likely will not be doing it your way, nor should they.
But what an intriguing little quirk of human nature to write a novel about! I just love Elizabeth Taylor. She is a master at exposing us to ourselves.
With each book of hers I read, Elizabeth Taylor climbs up my list of favorite authors. With realism and a biting sarcasm (that’s hilarious, but warm and knowing rather than cruel), she explores distinct and fascinating characters who come to life in their believability, yet never quite do what I expect them to do. They’re a diverse set, and we see their creativity, their deceptiveness, and their disappointments, but mostly their humanity. Their problems aren’t simple, and defy quick fixes. I leave her stories strangely satisfied, even though I usually have no sure idea how things will come out down the road for these people she has created.
In The Soul of Kindness, Taylor gives us an unusual main character: Flora Quartermaine. She’s at the center of the story, but it’s her impact on those around her that makes up the plot, and they make an interesting group. Flora’s husband Richard works long hours running the business he inherited from his father. Her mother is a widow, and at a loss since her only daughter married and moved from the country to London. Meg is Flora’s best friend and in love with the unattainable Patrick, a friend of both Flora and Meg. Meg’s brother, infatuated with Flora since he was young, is her pet project--she wants to help him become an actor.
Flora has been over-protected all her life, by her mother and by her friends. She has a kind manner and pretty face, and they can’t bear to hurt her feelings, so she gets away with “helping” them (actually trying to “fix” them by molding them into who she thinks they should be).
You may know someone like this, someone who is certain they know what’s right for you. It reminded me of something, and bear with me because this may sound like a crazy analogy, but I think it fits. Lately I’ve noticed a trend: people going WAY out of their way to open doors for me. I mean to a crazy extreme. I don’t walk any different (yet) than I always have, and don’t believe I appear to need help. It’s one thing to not slam a door in my face as we’re walking into the bank or the post office or the gift shop. It’s quite another to stand there holding the door open, staring at me when I am fifty feet away in the parking lot! They make me feel like I have to run across the parking lot so I don’t leave them standing there too long. Good grief--please stop it.
It’s like people are out there looking to help you with things you don’t need or want help with. I think it’s not so much that they want to be nice, more that they desperately want to see themselves as a nice people. I want to tell them, if you really want to be nice, just open your eyes and look out for needs that really do exist. And that’s what I wanted to say to Flora in this story. Open your eyes! It’s not about you! People have their own lives to live, and they likely will not be doing it your way, nor should they.
But what an intriguing little quirk of human nature to write a novel about! I just love Elizabeth Taylor. She is a master at exposing us to ourselves.
April 18, 2020
Elizabeth Taylor is an author who has been on my reading radar for ages, so, when this novel was suggested to me, I felt it was time to finally give her a try. So often, we, as readers, are so wrapped up in ‘new’ books that are published, that we forget the wealth of riches that have gone before and the wonderful authors that will be new to us, ready to be discovered, or re-discovered.
This novel was published in 1964 and, indeed, there is a mention of one of the older characters, Percy, impatient with the new music, bursting from the television set. However, in some ways it feels like it is set in an earlier time, and has a late fifties feel to it.
We open with a wedding. The ‘Soul of Kindness,’ is the lovely, spoilt, beautiful, Flora, who is manipulative and naïve. Mrs Secretan, her widowed mother, is bereft at losing her to Richard. Other characters include Flora’s friends, Meg, her young brother, Kit, author Patrick, Richard’s father, Percy and his mistress, Barbara. Flora, throughout the book, interferes in their lives, with varying degrees of success. She persuades Percy that he should propose to Barbara, when they were happier as they were, tries to suggest a wholly unsuitable marriage between Meg and Patrick, when he has his own relationship troubles with a rather selfish young man, called Frankie, encourages Kit’s acting career when it is obviously not going anywhere, and is jealous of Richard’s friendship with a lonely neighbour.
We have all known a Flora at some point in our lives. The one who is always right, who needs to be the centre of attention, who rides roughshod over others feelings and who is horrified at any suggestion they were in the wrong. Taylor deftly takes a bored, manipulative and selfish young woman and shows the harm they can do, by bestowing themselves, as she says, ‘like a gift.’ This is an intelligent, perceptive and interesting novel. I will be reading more by Elizabeth Taylor.
This novel was published in 1964 and, indeed, there is a mention of one of the older characters, Percy, impatient with the new music, bursting from the television set. However, in some ways it feels like it is set in an earlier time, and has a late fifties feel to it.
We open with a wedding. The ‘Soul of Kindness,’ is the lovely, spoilt, beautiful, Flora, who is manipulative and naïve. Mrs Secretan, her widowed mother, is bereft at losing her to Richard. Other characters include Flora’s friends, Meg, her young brother, Kit, author Patrick, Richard’s father, Percy and his mistress, Barbara. Flora, throughout the book, interferes in their lives, with varying degrees of success. She persuades Percy that he should propose to Barbara, when they were happier as they were, tries to suggest a wholly unsuitable marriage between Meg and Patrick, when he has his own relationship troubles with a rather selfish young man, called Frankie, encourages Kit’s acting career when it is obviously not going anywhere, and is jealous of Richard’s friendship with a lonely neighbour.
We have all known a Flora at some point in our lives. The one who is always right, who needs to be the centre of attention, who rides roughshod over others feelings and who is horrified at any suggestion they were in the wrong. Taylor deftly takes a bored, manipulative and selfish young woman and shows the harm they can do, by bestowing themselves, as she says, ‘like a gift.’ This is an intelligent, perceptive and interesting novel. I will be reading more by Elizabeth Taylor.
April 20, 2020
Flora is the 'soul of kindness of the title. She believes she's doing good but unwittingly does more harm.
At the beginning of the novel, Flora is getting married to Richard. She has a band of devoted people around her who think it is their job to try to protect her from the harm that she does in trying to perform her acts of kindness. It is their job to look after her, while making her believe she is looking after them. Only one person, a painter, Liz, sees through her completely and is willing to state the fact.
As with all Elizabeth Taylor novels, she manages to get into the real soul of her characters, and that is what makes her so readable.
At the beginning of the novel, Flora is getting married to Richard. She has a band of devoted people around her who think it is their job to try to protect her from the harm that she does in trying to perform her acts of kindness. It is their job to look after her, while making her believe she is looking after them. Only one person, a painter, Liz, sees through her completely and is willing to state the fact.
As with all Elizabeth Taylor novels, she manages to get into the real soul of her characters, and that is what makes her so readable.
February 10, 2017
I’ve been itching to get back to reading Elizabeth Taylor for a while now, an author whose work I adore. First published in 1964, The Soul of Kindness was one of Taylor’s later novels, and I think it shows. There is a sense of precision in both the writing and the characterisation that suggests it is the work of an accomplished writer, one in full control of her material. Much as I loved the last Taylor I read – her first, At Mrs Lippincote’s – The Soul of Kindness seems a more rounded novel, possibly up there with Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont as my favourite so far.
The storyline in The Soul of Kindness revolves around Flora Quartermaine, a beautiful young woman who seems to have the perfect life. She is married to Richard, her loving husband and hard-working businessman, manager of the family-owned factory passed down from his father, Percy. In addition to Richard, Flora has a close circle of friends upon whom she lavishes her own unique brand of kindness: there is the long-suffering Meg, her closest friend from school; Patrick, the writer who looks forward to Flora’s company as a respite from his work; and Kit, Meg’s younger brother, who quite literally worships Flora, looking up to her as a sort of benefactor or mentor.
While Flora considers herself to be the very soul of kindness, in reality this is far from the truth, her good intentions often causing more harm than good. Kit, an aspiring actor, has very little real talent, but Flora encourages him terribly, building up his hopes and dreams with the best of intentions even though everyone else can see how futile and potentially damaging this is proving to be. Flora, however, always thinks she knows what’s best for her friends, even if they can’t see this for themselves. Here’s a typical example of Flora in action – in this scene, she is talking to Ba, Percy’s level-headed lady friend and prospective partner in life.
‘Why don’t you have a cat?’ Flora asked.
‘I don’t want a cat.’
‘But it would be lovely for you. Percy likes cats.’
‘Well, Percy’s got a cat,’
Flora, in fact, had given it to him and he had been obliged to take it in. In four years, he had found that Flora was not biddable at all. Although as good as gold, she had inconvenient plans for other people’s pleasure, and ideas differing from her own she was not able to imagine. (p. 18)
Right from the start, Flora’s mother, the well-intentioned Mrs Secretan, encouraged her daughter (an only child) to adopt only the rosiest view of human nature; and none of Flora’s experiences since then have succeeded in altering this mindset. To a certain extent, Flora has been shielded from the harsh realities of life by those around her. First by her mother in those early years, then by Meg who recognised that the protective environment nurtured by Mrs Secretan could not be broken down without consequences. Now the bulk of the responsibility for preserving Flora’s happiness has passed to Richard, a task he clearly acknowledges as presenting difficulties from time to time. In this scene, Richard is wondering why he has not told Flora about a chance encounter with one of his neighbours, the rather lonely Elinor Pringle, a woman with whom he has developed a close friendship. While Elinor is not in love with Richard, she values his companionship, someone to talk to and have a drink with every now and again while her busy politician husband is caught up in his own world.
To have kept quiet about it, had given it the significance of a secret arrangement. Now it was too late, and if Flora came to hear of it, as more than likely she might, a little puzzled frown would come between her brows – the expression she wore when she was bewildered by other standards of behaviour than her own. But we’ve preserved the face pretty well, between us, Richard thought; not fearing ageing lines, but the loss of innocence. So far, and by the skin of his teeth, he felt. The face was his responsibility now and it would surely be his fault if it were altered, if the Botticelli calm were broken, or the appealing gaze veiled. (p. 71-72)
Slowly but surely over the course of the novel, Elizabeth Taylor reveals the true extent of Flora’s lack of self-awareness and her rather blinkered view of the lives of those around her. Flora has very little understanding of the real impact of her acts of ‘kindness’ on her closest friends and family, a point that hits home to Mrs Secretan when she finds this letter from her daughter at the end of the wedding.
Mrs Secretan took the letter and opened it. ‘You have been the most wonderful mother,’ she read. ‘I had a beautiful childhood.’ So it was to be regarded as finished? The words were the kind which might be spoken from a deathbed or to someone lying on one. If only, Mrs Secretan thought yearningly, if only Flora had written ‘You are such a wonderful mother.’ That would have made all the difference, she thought – would have made it seem that there was still a place for me. (p. 13)
She read the letter through again, telling herself that Flora had meant well, meant very well, poor girl. In fact she had always meant well. That intention had been seen clearly, lying behind some of her biggest mistakes. (p. 15)
Mrs Secretan is a typical Elizabeth Taylor character. There is a sense of despondency about her, knowing as she does that a life of loneliness almost certainly lies ahead now that Flora has flown the nest. There are some priceless scenes between Mrs Secretan and her slightly dotty housekeeper, Miss Folley, a woman whose pride is wounded when she discovers she is the source of some amusement and frustration in the Secretan household.
To read the rest of my review, please click here:
https://jacquiwine.wordpress.com/2017...
The storyline in The Soul of Kindness revolves around Flora Quartermaine, a beautiful young woman who seems to have the perfect life. She is married to Richard, her loving husband and hard-working businessman, manager of the family-owned factory passed down from his father, Percy. In addition to Richard, Flora has a close circle of friends upon whom she lavishes her own unique brand of kindness: there is the long-suffering Meg, her closest friend from school; Patrick, the writer who looks forward to Flora’s company as a respite from his work; and Kit, Meg’s younger brother, who quite literally worships Flora, looking up to her as a sort of benefactor or mentor.
While Flora considers herself to be the very soul of kindness, in reality this is far from the truth, her good intentions often causing more harm than good. Kit, an aspiring actor, has very little real talent, but Flora encourages him terribly, building up his hopes and dreams with the best of intentions even though everyone else can see how futile and potentially damaging this is proving to be. Flora, however, always thinks she knows what’s best for her friends, even if they can’t see this for themselves. Here’s a typical example of Flora in action – in this scene, she is talking to Ba, Percy’s level-headed lady friend and prospective partner in life.
‘Why don’t you have a cat?’ Flora asked.
‘I don’t want a cat.’
‘But it would be lovely for you. Percy likes cats.’
‘Well, Percy’s got a cat,’
Flora, in fact, had given it to him and he had been obliged to take it in. In four years, he had found that Flora was not biddable at all. Although as good as gold, she had inconvenient plans for other people’s pleasure, and ideas differing from her own she was not able to imagine. (p. 18)
Right from the start, Flora’s mother, the well-intentioned Mrs Secretan, encouraged her daughter (an only child) to adopt only the rosiest view of human nature; and none of Flora’s experiences since then have succeeded in altering this mindset. To a certain extent, Flora has been shielded from the harsh realities of life by those around her. First by her mother in those early years, then by Meg who recognised that the protective environment nurtured by Mrs Secretan could not be broken down without consequences. Now the bulk of the responsibility for preserving Flora’s happiness has passed to Richard, a task he clearly acknowledges as presenting difficulties from time to time. In this scene, Richard is wondering why he has not told Flora about a chance encounter with one of his neighbours, the rather lonely Elinor Pringle, a woman with whom he has developed a close friendship. While Elinor is not in love with Richard, she values his companionship, someone to talk to and have a drink with every now and again while her busy politician husband is caught up in his own world.
To have kept quiet about it, had given it the significance of a secret arrangement. Now it was too late, and if Flora came to hear of it, as more than likely she might, a little puzzled frown would come between her brows – the expression she wore when she was bewildered by other standards of behaviour than her own. But we’ve preserved the face pretty well, between us, Richard thought; not fearing ageing lines, but the loss of innocence. So far, and by the skin of his teeth, he felt. The face was his responsibility now and it would surely be his fault if it were altered, if the Botticelli calm were broken, or the appealing gaze veiled. (p. 71-72)
Slowly but surely over the course of the novel, Elizabeth Taylor reveals the true extent of Flora’s lack of self-awareness and her rather blinkered view of the lives of those around her. Flora has very little understanding of the real impact of her acts of ‘kindness’ on her closest friends and family, a point that hits home to Mrs Secretan when she finds this letter from her daughter at the end of the wedding.
Mrs Secretan took the letter and opened it. ‘You have been the most wonderful mother,’ she read. ‘I had a beautiful childhood.’ So it was to be regarded as finished? The words were the kind which might be spoken from a deathbed or to someone lying on one. If only, Mrs Secretan thought yearningly, if only Flora had written ‘You are such a wonderful mother.’ That would have made all the difference, she thought – would have made it seem that there was still a place for me. (p. 13)
She read the letter through again, telling herself that Flora had meant well, meant very well, poor girl. In fact she had always meant well. That intention had been seen clearly, lying behind some of her biggest mistakes. (p. 15)
Mrs Secretan is a typical Elizabeth Taylor character. There is a sense of despondency about her, knowing as she does that a life of loneliness almost certainly lies ahead now that Flora has flown the nest. There are some priceless scenes between Mrs Secretan and her slightly dotty housekeeper, Miss Folley, a woman whose pride is wounded when she discovers she is the source of some amusement and frustration in the Secretan household.
To read the rest of my review, please click here:
https://jacquiwine.wordpress.com/2017...
January 1, 2021
"I can’t imagine how anyone can know that marriage will be that. The very idea of wanting to be with the same person, day in, day out, the same bed even, shut up together for a lifetime; well, even for half a lifetime. Just imagine, as a child, being told that some day one will have to belong to some other person, so finally that only death could put an end to it. You couldn’t blame the child for bursting into tears at the idea. To be under the same roof till kingdom come."
(4.5 stars rounded up. This is really a 5-star book, but a slightly less impressive 5-stars than Taylor’s knock-‘em-dead masterworks.)
December 16, 2014
I'm wavering between four and five stars with this novel. Flora is a beautiful, needy woman who expects adoration at all times from her close-knit group. Liz is separate from this group and has no need to soften her opinions about Flora's unconsciously bad behaviour. I loved the subtle humour throughout the novel. The characters in the novel were written with great depth and compassion. I loved the unspoken chafing between Mrs Secretan and her eccentric housekeeper Miss Folley. A sensitive and sophisticated novel.
December 2, 2025
This was my fifth time reading Elizabeth Taylor. It’s a later novel of hers: the ninth of 12. As per usual, there’s an ensemble cast, but this time I had some trouble keeping the characters straight and finding enough sympathy for all of them. There are a dozen main players if you count housekeepers and neighbours. The opening scene is Flora’s wedding to Richard. She’s the title character: beautiful and well-meaning yet sometimes thoughtless. As she grows into the roles of wife and mother, Flora believes everyone should follow her into marriage.
Her interfering can be comical – she doesn’t realize Patrick is homosexual, so her attempt to match-make between him and her friend Meg is futile.
When she convinces her father-in-law, Percy, to marry his mistress, Barbara, it’s the wrong thing for them. (“I think we are very well as we are, Percy,” Ba had said.) By ignoring Meg��s little brother Kit’s crush on her and encouraging his hopeless dream of acting, Flora nearly precipitates a tragedy – and Kit’s lover decides to let her know about her misstep.
I got hints of Emma so was pleased to see that comparison made in Philip Hensher’s introduction, in which he considers The Soul of Kindness in the context of the English “novel of community.” Flora herself somewhat fades into the background as we spend time rotating through the other characters in pairs. I found Flora silly and stubborn but not deserving of others’ ire. I felt most for Richard and for her mother, Mrs Secretan, both of whom she unfairly underestimates and sidelines.
This wasn’t one of my favourite Taylors – those are Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont, which I’ve read twice, and In a Summer Season – but she always writes with grace and psychological acuity. Here I loved a description of the fog – “It’s disorganising, like snow. It makes a different world” – and the fact that the book starts and ends with throwing crumbs to birds. Flora’s pet doves must be a symbol of something: the peace she tries to keep but unwittingly disturbs? In any case, the next time you find a book a slog, here’s her diplomatic strategy for talking about it:
The main question we ask about the books we read for Literary Wives is: What does this book say about wives or about the experience of being a wife?
Marriage is not a solution to a problem. (Especially if that problem is loneliness.) Some people aren’t the marrying kind, for whatever reason. Being a spouse can be one aspect of a person’s identity, but it’s dangerous when it becomes defining – this is probably the single common moral I’d draw from all that we’ve read for the club.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
Although as good as gold, she had inconvenient plans for other people’s pleasure, and ideas differing from her own she was unable to imagine.
Her interfering can be comical – she doesn’t realize Patrick is homosexual, so her attempt to match-make between him and her friend Meg is futile.
If she could get Meg settled, Flora had decided, she herself would be quite happy, but her friend thought she went about it in strange ways and wondered what, if anything, Flora knew about people.
When she convinces her father-in-law, Percy, to marry his mistress, Barbara, it’s the wrong thing for them. (“I think we are very well as we are, Percy,” Ba had said.) By ignoring Meg��s little brother Kit’s crush on her and encouraging his hopeless dream of acting, Flora nearly precipitates a tragedy – and Kit’s lover decides to let her know about her misstep.
I got hints of Emma so was pleased to see that comparison made in Philip Hensher’s introduction, in which he considers The Soul of Kindness in the context of the English “novel of community.” Flora herself somewhat fades into the background as we spend time rotating through the other characters in pairs. I found Flora silly and stubborn but not deserving of others’ ire. I felt most for Richard and for her mother, Mrs Secretan, both of whom she unfairly underestimates and sidelines.
This wasn’t one of my favourite Taylors – those are Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont, which I’ve read twice, and In a Summer Season – but she always writes with grace and psychological acuity. Here I loved a description of the fog – “It’s disorganising, like snow. It makes a different world” – and the fact that the book starts and ends with throwing crumbs to birds. Flora’s pet doves must be a symbol of something: the peace she tries to keep but unwittingly disturbs? In any case, the next time you find a book a slog, here’s her diplomatic strategy for talking about it:
she said that she was taking the books in tiny sips, à petites doses, as Henry James wrote when he was up to the same trick – as if it were the most precious wine. That meant that she was bogged down in it.
The main question we ask about the books we read for Literary Wives is: What does this book say about wives or about the experience of being a wife?
Marriage is not a solution to a problem. (Especially if that problem is loneliness.) Some people aren’t the marrying kind, for whatever reason. Being a spouse can be one aspect of a person’s identity, but it’s dangerous when it becomes defining – this is probably the single common moral I’d draw from all that we’ve read for the club.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
April 9, 2020
I heard about Elizabeth Taylor's novel The Soul of Kindness (1964) through the wonderful Backlisted podcast. It is the first book I have read by her, and it's excellent.
Flora, the central character, complete with her unintended cruelty, is the common thread which binds a disparate group of characters, not all of whom know each other directly. She is a fabulous creation: unwittingly demonic and spectacularly lacking in any real self insight.
What follows is a pitch perfect disection of the boredom and loneliness which is a feature of so many lives.
The characters are perfectly realised, and The Soul of Kindness is a melancholic masterpiece.
5/5
Blurb....
"Here I am!" Flora called to Richard as she went downstairs. For a second, Meg felt disloyalty. It occurred to her of a sudden that Flora was always saying that, and that it was in the tone of one giving a lovely present. She was bestowing herself.'
The soul of kindness is what Flora believes herself to be. Tall, blonde and beautiful, she appears to have everything under control -- her home, her baby, her husband Richard, her friend Meg, Kit, Meg's brother, who has always adored Flora, and Patrick the novelist and domestic pet. Only the bohemian painter Liz refuses to become a worshipper at the shrine.
Flora entrances them all, dangling visions of happiness and success before their spellbound eyes. All are bewitched by this golden tyrant, all conspire to protect her from what she really is. All, that is, except the clear-eyed Liz: it is left to her to show them that Flora's kindness is the sweetest poison of them all.
Flora, the central character, complete with her unintended cruelty, is the common thread which binds a disparate group of characters, not all of whom know each other directly. She is a fabulous creation: unwittingly demonic and spectacularly lacking in any real self insight.
What follows is a pitch perfect disection of the boredom and loneliness which is a feature of so many lives.
The characters are perfectly realised, and The Soul of Kindness is a melancholic masterpiece.
5/5
Blurb....
"Here I am!" Flora called to Richard as she went downstairs. For a second, Meg felt disloyalty. It occurred to her of a sudden that Flora was always saying that, and that it was in the tone of one giving a lovely present. She was bestowing herself.'
The soul of kindness is what Flora believes herself to be. Tall, blonde and beautiful, she appears to have everything under control -- her home, her baby, her husband Richard, her friend Meg, Kit, Meg's brother, who has always adored Flora, and Patrick the novelist and domestic pet. Only the bohemian painter Liz refuses to become a worshipper at the shrine.
Flora entrances them all, dangling visions of happiness and success before their spellbound eyes. All are bewitched by this golden tyrant, all conspire to protect her from what she really is. All, that is, except the clear-eyed Liz: it is left to her to show them that Flora's kindness is the sweetest poison of them all.
April 18, 2013
After just reading Taylor's early work (At Mrs. Lippincote's and Mrs. Palfry at the Claremont) I was disappointed in The Soul of Kindness. The earlier books had an edge to them, some real anger at the limitations of women's lives, which broke through the veneer of politeness (or kindness). Illusions about marriage and relationships could be dispelled--even though the result would be harsh and painful. In The Soul of Kindness, however, characters soldier on, resigning themselves to "lives of quiet desperation."
February 14, 2019
«Había intentado —era así de buena— introducir reformas de manera gradual, pero Flora las ignoró, porque no sabía que hubiera necesidad alguna de valerse por sí misma, ni siquiera era consciente de que no lo estuviera haciendo».
Un alma cándida, novela de Elizabeth Taylor publicada originalmente en 1964, es la confirmación de un talento narrativo sobrenatural. Tal y como hiciera en la fabulosa Una vista del puerto, la escritora británica demuestra en esta novela poseer una incomparable habilidad para desgranar las secretas complejidades de sus personajes, una apasionante galería de individuos que orbitan, esclavizados por la gravedad de su carácter bondadoso e inocente, en torno a la figura de una joven llamada Flora. Incapaz de conceder importancia ni a los problemas propios ni a los ajenos, la angelical protagonista de Un alma cándida pasa como de puntillas por los encontronazos propios de cualquier matrimonio, repartiendo allá por donde pasa consejos beatíficos y derroches de buenas intenciones. Complementan el maravilloso —y prolífico— elenco de personajes su marido Richard, un diligente empresario que en el fondo desprecia a los amigos de su mujer, Kit, un actor aspirante cuya ferviente admiración por Flora acabará convirtiéndose en su perdición, y Patrick, un escritor que no destaca precisamente por su capacidad de observación. Haciendo gala de un delicioso sentido del humor y una dinámica narrativa fundamentada en la prolija observación de lo cotidiano, Elizabeth Taylor nos sumerge en un mundo de trivialidades domésticas que alcanzan en Un alma cándida el esplendor de lo excepcional.
Un alma cándida, novela de Elizabeth Taylor publicada originalmente en 1964, es la confirmación de un talento narrativo sobrenatural. Tal y como hiciera en la fabulosa Una vista del puerto, la escritora británica demuestra en esta novela poseer una incomparable habilidad para desgranar las secretas complejidades de sus personajes, una apasionante galería de individuos que orbitan, esclavizados por la gravedad de su carácter bondadoso e inocente, en torno a la figura de una joven llamada Flora. Incapaz de conceder importancia ni a los problemas propios ni a los ajenos, la angelical protagonista de Un alma cándida pasa como de puntillas por los encontronazos propios de cualquier matrimonio, repartiendo allá por donde pasa consejos beatíficos y derroches de buenas intenciones. Complementan el maravilloso —y prolífico— elenco de personajes su marido Richard, un diligente empresario que en el fondo desprecia a los amigos de su mujer, Kit, un actor aspirante cuya ferviente admiración por Flora acabará convirtiéndose en su perdición, y Patrick, un escritor que no destaca precisamente por su capacidad de observación. Haciendo gala de un delicioso sentido del humor y una dinámica narrativa fundamentada en la prolija observación de lo cotidiano, Elizabeth Taylor nos sumerge en un mundo de trivialidades domésticas que alcanzan en Un alma cándida el esplendor de lo excepcional.
March 7, 2016
I found these characters a bit bland. The ending was abrupt and found this book dissapointing in comparison with some of the great Elizabeth Taylor books I have read in recent months.
June 15, 2018
3.5 ⭐️
October 25, 2022
The British confuse me. They held up splendidly all through the horrors of World War II, showing extraordinary grit and grace; but in the twenty years that followed they fell apart, crushed by banality into whiny self-pity.
Or so it would seem, to read the dreary fiction of the late 1950s and early 1960s, especially the novels written by sharp-eyed women. Barbara Pym is one, with her precise dissections of futile lives; and now here’s Elizabeth Taylor, capably doing much the same.
The Soul of Kindness is about a set of people ill at ease with their lives but apparently unable to escape into joy or even fulfillment. Flora is a beautiful young bride who has always coasted on her looks and a knee-jerk tenderness; her husband is a harassed businessman with an ulcer; her best friend Meg inherited a limp younger brother when her parents died young and struggles to support them both; Patrick is a gay man in love with a user; Liz, perhaps the happiest character, is an obsessed artist who can’t be distracted from her work long enough to bathe. (She’s only happy because she cares about nothing but her painting; her personal life is a wreck.) Most of the characters try at one time or another to be kind (Patrick with the greatest success), but their attempts often backfire and in the case of Flora, backfire in spectacular and disastrous fashion. I didn’t really believe the shocking plot twist, though the rest of the story is sadly credible.
Taylor is a skilled writer, though not as subtle as some give her credit for. We are shown over and over Flora’s blithe self-absorption, and just in case we missed it we are given a Janus-face character who is neurotically and excessively self-aware. Sarcastic asides seal our impression of Flora as selfish and insensitive. The author delivers deft images and deft turns of phrase, but I wish her perceptiveness had been paired with a little more generosity of spirit. I am guilty of preferring uplift over grimness, so perhaps it is my bias that turns me sour on her gifts.
So many people have recommended Taylor’s fiction to me that I may well give her another try, though this story was not at all my cup of tea.
Note to those who read this book anyway: Don’t read the introduction in the Virago edition first. It is a total spoiler.
Or so it would seem, to read the dreary fiction of the late 1950s and early 1960s, especially the novels written by sharp-eyed women. Barbara Pym is one, with her precise dissections of futile lives; and now here’s Elizabeth Taylor, capably doing much the same.
The Soul of Kindness is about a set of people ill at ease with their lives but apparently unable to escape into joy or even fulfillment. Flora is a beautiful young bride who has always coasted on her looks and a knee-jerk tenderness; her husband is a harassed businessman with an ulcer; her best friend Meg inherited a limp younger brother when her parents died young and struggles to support them both; Patrick is a gay man in love with a user; Liz, perhaps the happiest character, is an obsessed artist who can’t be distracted from her work long enough to bathe. (She’s only happy because she cares about nothing but her painting; her personal life is a wreck.) Most of the characters try at one time or another to be kind (Patrick with the greatest success), but their attempts often backfire and in the case of Flora, backfire in spectacular and disastrous fashion. I didn’t really believe the shocking plot twist, though the rest of the story is sadly credible.
Taylor is a skilled writer, though not as subtle as some give her credit for. We are shown over and over Flora’s blithe self-absorption, and just in case we missed it we are given a Janus-face character who is neurotically and excessively self-aware. Sarcastic asides seal our impression of Flora as selfish and insensitive. The author delivers deft images and deft turns of phrase, but I wish her perceptiveness had been paired with a little more generosity of spirit. I am guilty of preferring uplift over grimness, so perhaps it is my bias that turns me sour on her gifts.
So many people have recommended Taylor’s fiction to me that I may well give her another try, though this story was not at all my cup of tea.
Note to those who read this book anyway: Don’t read the introduction in the Virago edition first. It is a total spoiler.
November 25, 2023
Really a cautionary tale about what happens when you bring up
a child shielded, wrapped in cotton wool and believing that
no-one like them exists in the world. Flora is beloved, for her
whole life it seems there have been people around (like her mother
and best friend Meg) to see that everything goes perfectly for
her but some people find her less than perfect. On her wedding
day, her father-in-law, Percy, found her vacuous and biddable
but four years later he realises his mistake. She has inconvenient
plans for other people's futures and she can't imaging ideas that
would differ from her own.
Meg's younger brother Kit has idolized her ever since she put him
at his ease during her wedding and he has since become her protégé.
She is convinced he has the stuff in him to be a great actor -
even though after many years of "sponging" off his sister all he
has managed to find is a non speaking part on a TV show!! Flora's
husband, Richard, puts it bluntly - "he can't act", but everyone
is worried about what effect Flora's constant praise and
encouragement is having on Kit. Kit is worried as well, especially
after a row with slatternly painter Liz who hits home after
observing that Flora is the only person who tells Kit what
he wants to hear.
There are constant little barbs throughout the book, usually by
Patrick. When he asks about Flora after the birth of her child he
is told she is under sedation, he replies "she always is"!! This
is a wonderfully written book, people living life treading on eggshells
- except Flora who is unknowingly the cause of the little stresses
in her effort to see that everybody's life is tied up with a pink
ribbon. Like Percy and Ba who marry because Flora thinks it's the
sensible thing to do and what harm will it do. They soon realise
the life they had before was fine and now they really can't escape
each other's eccentric habits. Then there is Meg who realises, with
a move away from London, that life can be lived without Flora. For
all Flora's thinking that she is helping and encouraging people she
is really being cocooned from life's harsh realities. Her mother
has a cancer scare but it is Richard she turns to and who
inadvertently provides her with an open door to a more fulfilling
life away from Flora.
Just a top book.
a child shielded, wrapped in cotton wool and believing that
no-one like them exists in the world. Flora is beloved, for her
whole life it seems there have been people around (like her mother
and best friend Meg) to see that everything goes perfectly for
her but some people find her less than perfect. On her wedding
day, her father-in-law, Percy, found her vacuous and biddable
but four years later he realises his mistake. She has inconvenient
plans for other people's futures and she can't imaging ideas that
would differ from her own.
Meg's younger brother Kit has idolized her ever since she put him
at his ease during her wedding and he has since become her protégé.
She is convinced he has the stuff in him to be a great actor -
even though after many years of "sponging" off his sister all he
has managed to find is a non speaking part on a TV show!! Flora's
husband, Richard, puts it bluntly - "he can't act", but everyone
is worried about what effect Flora's constant praise and
encouragement is having on Kit. Kit is worried as well, especially
after a row with slatternly painter Liz who hits home after
observing that Flora is the only person who tells Kit what
he wants to hear.
There are constant little barbs throughout the book, usually by
Patrick. When he asks about Flora after the birth of her child he
is told she is under sedation, he replies "she always is"!! This
is a wonderfully written book, people living life treading on eggshells
- except Flora who is unknowingly the cause of the little stresses
in her effort to see that everybody's life is tied up with a pink
ribbon. Like Percy and Ba who marry because Flora thinks it's the
sensible thing to do and what harm will it do. They soon realise
the life they had before was fine and now they really can't escape
each other's eccentric habits. Then there is Meg who realises, with
a move away from London, that life can be lived without Flora. For
all Flora's thinking that she is helping and encouraging people she
is really being cocooned from life's harsh realities. Her mother
has a cancer scare but it is Richard she turns to and who
inadvertently provides her with an open door to a more fulfilling
life away from Flora.
Just a top book.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 7, 2022
'She has so much, and always wants more.'
So, who was worse Flora or Angel? Seriously. Because with Angel one could do what one wanted, she was so much in her own vision of people, the world and life. But with Flora, one had to pretend, had to be careful and kept her vision of the world. So being near Flora, sooner or later, everyone ended with a bent or broke morals or rules. Again, who was worse as a human being?
Hell is full of good meanings ('kindness'), but heaven is full of good works...
I had problems with the story for most of the part. I mean, they were interesting characters and it was E. Taylor - after all. But something was missing. I don't know what. I wasn't gripped until about 2/3 of the book. If the ending had not been so good, I would have given only 3 stars (comparing to other E. Taylor's novels).
September 16, 2025
Pensaba que se trataría de una especie de estudio novelado de ese tipo de persona que conocemos como "mosquita muerta".
Y algo de eso hay.
Todos los personajes orbitan en torno a una mujer que siempre obtiene lo que quiere porque nadie parece dispuesto a hacer sufrir a una persona que irradia el encanto de quien nunca ha sufrido y que no espera de los demás sino la comprensión y el aliento que ella derrocha.
Pero es una novela coral, muy coral, en la que no todos los conflictos están relacionados directamente con esa alma cándida del título.
Me voy a atrever a decir que es una especie de Emma (la novela de Jane Austen) pero contada desde el punto de vista, no de Emma, sino de todos los demás personajes que la conocen; y con el tema principal tan diluido en la narración que en ocasiones, más que leer una historia con un principio y un final, parece que estemos viendo pasar la vida.
A mi me ha dado de ganas (por primera vez desde que perdí mi analfabetismo) de participar en un club de lectura. Me habría encantado asistir a un debate acerca de cuánta responsabilidad podemos pedir a la protagonista sobre lo que sucede. Un debate en el que se sacasen a relucir ejemplos de personas reales que todos nos hemos encontrado alguna vez en nuestras vidas.
Y algo de eso hay.
Todos los personajes orbitan en torno a una mujer que siempre obtiene lo que quiere porque nadie parece dispuesto a hacer sufrir a una persona que irradia el encanto de quien nunca ha sufrido y que no espera de los demás sino la comprensión y el aliento que ella derrocha.
Pero es una novela coral, muy coral, en la que no todos los conflictos están relacionados directamente con esa alma cándida del título.
Me voy a atrever a decir que es una especie de Emma (la novela de Jane Austen) pero contada desde el punto de vista, no de Emma, sino de todos los demás personajes que la conocen; y con el tema principal tan diluido en la narración que en ocasiones, más que leer una historia con un principio y un final, parece que estemos viendo pasar la vida.
A mi me ha dado de ganas (por primera vez desde que perdí mi analfabetismo) de participar en un club de lectura. Me habría encantado asistir a un debate acerca de cuánta responsabilidad podemos pedir a la protagonista sobre lo que sucede. Un debate en el que se sacasen a relucir ejemplos de personas reales que todos nos hemos encontrado alguna vez en nuestras vidas.
March 1, 2012
From time to time I mentally compile a list of those writers whose work I believe is unfairly neglected or under-appreciated. Top of my list is someone whom I consider to be a marvellous novelist: Barbara Pym. Others on the list include EF Benson, Ellery Queen, Patrick Hamilton and Michael Gilbert. I feel I must now add another name to the list: Elizabeth Taylor. Perhaps her writing is better known than I realise. But before recently picking up a copy of her novel The Soul of Kindness in a charity bookshop I had never heard of Elizabeth Taylor the writer. (Until then, the only Elizabeth Taylor of whom I was aware was the late great British film actress!) What a discovery I seem to have made. This is a simply wonderful novel.
Set in London and the Thames Valley during the early 1960s, The Soul of Kindness is a comedy of manners. Its principal character is Flora (who reminds me of Jane Austen's Emma). Flora is beautiful, sweet-natured and seemingly in control of everything and everyone around her. As the book opens, she is about to marry Richard, who owns a factory. Other characters include Meg, Flora's best friend and bridesmaid; Kit, Meg's brother, who is a budding actor; Patrick, a writer; Liz, an artist; Elinor, an unhappily married neighbour of Flora and Richard, who strikes up a friendship with the latter; Percy, Richard's father; Barbara, who is Percy's other half (and who eventually marries him); and Mrs Secretan, Flora's widowed mother. Flora is quite unaware of the impact that her innocently selfish behaviour has on the lives of these various characters. She subtly pressurises her father-in-law Percy into marrying Barbara - but they were, in fact, much happier before tying the knot! She fails to realise that Kit dotes on her and that her encouragement of his pursuit of a career as an actor is completely misguided. In fact, it has near fatal consequences. And Flora is quite comically unaware of Patrick's homosexuality and cannot understand why he does not get together with Meg, who is looking for love.
The Soul of Kindness is beautifully written. Its prose is precise and elegant; and its characterisation is excellent and deadly accurate. The interweaving plot is engaging and very entertaining. This is a superb novel about loneliness and about ordinary middle class life of the time in which it is set. I cannot recommend it too highly (and I now fully intend to make every effort to get hold of some of Elizabeth Taylor's other novels). 9/10.
[One sub-editing point I should make: there is a reference (on page 172 of my 2010 paperback version of the novel) to West Indians as "coloured people"! That may have been acceptable in the 1960s, but it is, I think, a term that causes offence these days. Its use adds little or nothing to the plot and it could therefore have been removed. (I accept that, given the period in which The Soul of Kindness is set, it might not be possible simply to amend it.) I suspect that, given the often woeful quality of sub-editing in modern publishing, its inclusion can be ascribed to an oversight rather than to a conscious decision!]
Set in London and the Thames Valley during the early 1960s, The Soul of Kindness is a comedy of manners. Its principal character is Flora (who reminds me of Jane Austen's Emma). Flora is beautiful, sweet-natured and seemingly in control of everything and everyone around her. As the book opens, she is about to marry Richard, who owns a factory. Other characters include Meg, Flora's best friend and bridesmaid; Kit, Meg's brother, who is a budding actor; Patrick, a writer; Liz, an artist; Elinor, an unhappily married neighbour of Flora and Richard, who strikes up a friendship with the latter; Percy, Richard's father; Barbara, who is Percy's other half (and who eventually marries him); and Mrs Secretan, Flora's widowed mother. Flora is quite unaware of the impact that her innocently selfish behaviour has on the lives of these various characters. She subtly pressurises her father-in-law Percy into marrying Barbara - but they were, in fact, much happier before tying the knot! She fails to realise that Kit dotes on her and that her encouragement of his pursuit of a career as an actor is completely misguided. In fact, it has near fatal consequences. And Flora is quite comically unaware of Patrick's homosexuality and cannot understand why he does not get together with Meg, who is looking for love.
The Soul of Kindness is beautifully written. Its prose is precise and elegant; and its characterisation is excellent and deadly accurate. The interweaving plot is engaging and very entertaining. This is a superb novel about loneliness and about ordinary middle class life of the time in which it is set. I cannot recommend it too highly (and I now fully intend to make every effort to get hold of some of Elizabeth Taylor's other novels). 9/10.
[One sub-editing point I should make: there is a reference (on page 172 of my 2010 paperback version of the novel) to West Indians as "coloured people"! That may have been acceptable in the 1960s, but it is, I think, a term that causes offence these days. Its use adds little or nothing to the plot and it could therefore have been removed. (I accept that, given the period in which The Soul of Kindness is set, it might not be possible simply to amend it.) I suspect that, given the often woeful quality of sub-editing in modern publishing, its inclusion can be ascribed to an oversight rather than to a conscious decision!]
August 31, 2021
"I don't want to enchantment people. I want to shake them up. People under spells are half dead."
I've read almost all of Taylor's works and this one is one of the best. I enthuse and encourage others to explore her outstanding, black works, but have often found myself struggling for a concise justification why. Soul finally brought enlightenment, for I came to realize, reading this wonderful novel that I would never want to have been a normal person in Taylor's orbit. I would be afraid to consider myself "average". Why? Because she excels at smashing the illusion of the security of convention. There you have it: the illusion of the security of convention is exactly what this novel is about. It is a novel of couples moving in and out of each other's orbit in customary and untoward and astonishingly lethal ways. It is also the backdrop for the gauntlet thrown down in the quote above, where the nemesis of the title soul makes clear her challenge to sickly, yet worshiped, banality.
Just great, great stuff!
I've read almost all of Taylor's works and this one is one of the best. I enthuse and encourage others to explore her outstanding, black works, but have often found myself struggling for a concise justification why. Soul finally brought enlightenment, for I came to realize, reading this wonderful novel that I would never want to have been a normal person in Taylor's orbit. I would be afraid to consider myself "average". Why? Because she excels at smashing the illusion of the security of convention. There you have it: the illusion of the security of convention is exactly what this novel is about. It is a novel of couples moving in and out of each other's orbit in customary and untoward and astonishingly lethal ways. It is also the backdrop for the gauntlet thrown down in the quote above, where the nemesis of the title soul makes clear her challenge to sickly, yet worshiped, banality.
Just great, great stuff!
June 11, 2017
I haven't read any Elizabeth Taylor for many decades. This was a short, quick read. As a number of other reviewers have said, Flora is what Jane Austen's Emma would have been if she hadn't grown up. Like Emma, Flora meddles in people's lives with no inkling of what makes them tick or what harm she is doing. Yet the people around her constantly humour her and are terrified of upsetting her, so they go along with her stupid schemes. I felt sorriest for Percy and Ba, who were getting along quite happily as a couple living in separate houses, but got grumpy and fed up after Flora insisted that they get married. Great characterisation here; they feel like real people. The only character I felt didn't completely work was Liz; she's said to be the only person who sees through Flora, and yet she never meets her.
August 10, 2015
Loved it.
October 5, 2021
The subtlety and control of her writing remains simply stunning. Truly one of the greats.
September 25, 2022
I'm glad I went back to this book after an initial DNF, thanks to a GR friend. I now realize that I had completely misread the publisher description. I glommed onto the phrase "golden tyrant" and interpreted it to mean that Flora was a manipulator who put on a 'goodness' act, rather than someone who sincerely intended to be kind and had no clue that she was manipulating the people who cared about her. An infinitely more subtle character, and done really well. I think I jumped to the wrong conclusion because I did know someone of the former description who made me feel gaslighted for a long time ;) So now I understand why the characters around Flora got so much real estate, while Flora seemed less fleshed out in comparison - I think we can only know Flora by knowing the people around her. Not only did I miss the boat, but I dove headfirst into the ocean ;)
Displaying 1 - 30 of 174 reviews