The Book and the Brotherhood by Iris Murdoch

Just as well I've been reading Moby-Dick in the lead-up to starting this book. Just like Melville, Murdoch loves to list and categorise things. In this case, Murdoch spent the first part of The Book and the Brotherhood listing all the characters, what they were wearing and how they were related or linked.

I had to draw myself a character tree to keep everyone in their rightful place!

It was kinda fun...as we watched a bunch of ageing college friends run around their old campus in a weird, debauched summer-time fling at their lost youth. We quickly realise though that they haven't really evolved emotionally very much from their youthful passions - with lots of whose sleeping with who, she said what? and he looked at me the wrong way kind of shenanigans.

I'm always amazed how Murdoch can create a story full of pretty unlikable characters, yet hold your interest at the same time. I guess it's her ideas and philosophy that intrigue. Maybe Oxbridge really is full of people just like the ones in this book, but it's hard to credit that there could be so many dithering, ineffectual intellectuals running around England, not really doing anything with their lives.

A couple of the men seemed to have some kind of vague government job, and of course, Crimond had his book to write, but everyone else just swanned around doing nothing but overthink, well, everything.

The entire cast of characters were so caught up in themselves that they constantly bounced from one catastrophic emotional drama to the next, inflicting harm on each other at an exhausting rate, with very little self-awareness and barely a public observance of contrition.

It's frustrating to get the end of this rather huge book, to find one of characters still saying 'other people are so mysterious'. No-one seems to have worked out anything. They all just keep on fluffing along, drifting in and out of things with very little purpose or decision.

But, perhaps, that's what we all do in the end.

During our lives most of us only have a few significant times when we might make conscious choices to change or do something differently. I suspect that many of us, do indeed, just drift along, waiting to see what will happen next, rather than acting decisively.

I could waffle on for several more paragraphs about the ideas and Murdochian tropes at play in The Book and the Brotherhood, but I'm too tired and I've had enough.
Today's conscious, purposeful act is to end this response here!

Favourite Character: Jenkin

Favourite Quote: that sums up my reading experience perfectly!

It was possible, he knew, to esteem and admire people and enjoy their company and dislike them heartily. It was also possible to be irritated, maddened and bored by people whom one loves.

Favourite of Forget: My favourite Murdoch so far.

Folly: I spent the entire month of September calling this book The Brook and the Butherhood. The spoonerism queen strikes again!

Fact: read for Lizzy's #IMreadalong @Adventures in Reading. This is her book review.

The Sea, The Sea by Iris Murdoch

The hardest part about writing a review more than a week after finishing the book is trying to make sense of my notes and markings and trying not to get my current reads mixed up with the old book. So to help me get everything straight in my head, I'll start with the housekeeping.

The Sea, The Sea was my fifth book in Liz @Adventures in Reading great Iris Murdoch Readalong, where she is reading (or more accurately rereading) ALL 26 of Murdoch's books in chronological order over a 2 year period. There are now only seven more books to go - of which I have only one on my TBR pile - The Book and the Brotherhood. Although I'm tempted to source Jackson's Dilemma before December so that I can be in at the end.

My edition of The Sea, The Sea was the 1999 Vintage one with an Introduction by John Burnside. He focused on the seventies provenance of this book and the 'spiritual awakening' happening at that time in the Western world - the interest in Eastern philosophies and ideas about 'mercy, compassion and right action'. He also alerted me to the fact that Charles Arrowby, our flawed protagonist, had bought into the whole 'Romantic, theatrical myths' idea of retreating, hermit-like to the coast to ponder his life, to get back to nature and surrender his 'worldly powers'.

Burnside warned me about the negative view of marriage that permeated the entire book before going off on an excursion into Milarepa country at the end. Who, I hear you ask?

Milarepa was a Tibetan poet mystic who managed to achievement Enlightenment in one lifetime. The two things I took out of Burnside's discussion of Milarepa - to be kept in mind as I read - was that the spiritual life led 'not to transcendence, but to a fuller expression of one's true nature' and 'we cannot change ourselves utterly; we can only change how we are in the world: how we see, how we act, how we tell our stories.'

I give you all this research because I have discovered over this past year that Murdoch's books not only improve when read in company, but furthermore they improve with knowledge. Murdoch wrote intelligently, coolly passionate and intense, with literary and philosophical references throughout her work. Watching her subtle clever ways at work as you read, is one of the pleasures of her work. There are times when she falls short, comes up clunky or heavy-handed, but then there are times when she soars. Despite liking very few of her characters (and actively disliking an even larger number) her books have insinuated themselves into my psyche, I suspect forever.

Murdoch gets inside the heads and hearts of her main characters. Since I tend to read for character development more so than an action-packed plot, it's understandable why she affects me so deeply. Whether you like them or not, Murdoch's characters go on a journey, both internal and external. I'm still not sure Charles Arrowby's journey resulted in him learning anything or changing anything though. I suspect he will always be a pompous, self-righteous, arrogant, control freak. Which is why the end annoyed me.

Liz loved the ending, claiming it was one of the best Murdoch endings ever. But it left me scratching my head as it seemed to take off in a new direction entirely. Any future drama that Arrowby inflicted on himself and others could now be blamed on the demons set loose - just another cop out for a man unable to face his own demons and accept responsibility for his own actions!

Arrowby is the classic Peter Pan figure - a man who never grew up, constantly searching for an all-forgiving, unconditional loving mother and stunted by a failed teen romance. He idealised women, pursued them relentlessly, before withdrawing his love and affection when he discovered they were not perfect. He lived his life in a heightened state of absurd melodrama and self-made confusion. As the narrator of his story, he is highly unreliable. The reader doubts his motivations, questions his hold on reality and suspects his memories have been twisted to fit his preferred version of events.

I couldn't understand why this master manipulator had so many friends who wanted to stay in touch with him, even when he moved off to the ends of the world, and why on earth all those ridiculous women kept coming back for more. There must have been an hypnotic charm to his personality that he was unable to reveal in his writing.

As with most of Murdoch's books, inanimate objects become personalities in their own right. In this case, the sea and the house, Scruff End, that Arrowby moved into take on a life of their own, full of unknown, possibly monstrous or magical beings. There was a constant threat implied - mother nature was not to be the solace or calm retreat that Arrowby was seeking.

I had also been reading the book for a few days before I noticed the discreet green detail in the wave design on the cover of the book, that was not a wave. Jo Walker had carefully, gracefully inserted a tendril - Arrowby's unknown, dream-like sea creature's tentacle - lurking amongst the waves. Nice!

Other Murdoch tropes popped up including caves, caverns, towers, magnifying glass, pools, bogs, moss, fog, windows, stones, rocks, pebbles, shells, vase, monsters, faces, letters, rope and field glasses, just to name a few.

Many of the themes were pure Murdoch too - goodness, obsession, limitations of the human soul, success, rational thought, truth and imperfection.

A number of quotes about marriage bear repeating for how disturbing they truly were. Is this Murdoch's view I wonder, or just Arrowby's?

Marriage is a sort of brainwashing which breaks the mind into the acceptance of so many horrors.

Every persisting marriage is based on fear.

People simply settle into positions of dominion and submission. Of course they sometimes "grow together" or "achieve a harmony", since you have to deal rationally with a source of terror in your life. I suspect there are awfully few happy marriages really, only people conceal their misery and their disappointment.

I had to struggle here with my own superstitious horror of the married state, that unimaginable condition of intimacy and mutual bondage.

I finished the book not only doubting Arrowby's chances of enlightenment but also his ability to self-reflect or change. He claimed that the least he could do was, 'live quietly and try to do my tiny good things and harm no one.' I seriously doubted his ability to harm no one and any good he attempted was designed to help himself first and foremost. As for living quietly, the entire story is about Arrowby's complete inability to live a calm, quiet life.

Photo by Sketch the Sun on Unsplash

Favourite Character: The sea, the sea! So many glorious Murdochian descriptions of the sea during all weathers, seasons and times of the day.

Favourite Quote: I had three.

• one of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats
• if there is art enough a lie can enlighten us as well as the truth
• they yearn to believe, and they believe, because believing is easier than disbelieving

Facts:

• Winner of the 1978 Man Booker Prize.
• The title could be a reference to Xenophon's Anabasis - where 10 000 Greeks, after marching and fighting in a foreign skirmish, called "thalatta, thallata" (the sea, the sea) when they realise they'd been saved from certain death and had made it home to safety (this phrase was also referenced by Jules Verne in Journey to the Centre of the Earth and James Joyce in Ulysses).
• or more likely it was a nod to Paul Valery's poem, La Cimetiere Marin and the lines "la mer, la mer, toujour recommence" (the sea, the sea, forever restarting) which Murdoch also referenced in The Unicorn chapter 4.
• The Sea, The Sea was a modern homage to Shakespeare's The Tempest (theatrical illusions, magic, betrayal, revenge, family, morally ambiguous, power, obedience, monstrosity, cruelty).

Books in Books:

• Odyssey
• Lord Jim
• Wings of the Dove
• Hamlet

Previous IM Posts:

• Under the Net
• Flight From the Enchanter
• The Unicorn
• The Nice and the Good

#IMreadalong

Stories & Shout Outs #23

I knew that May was going to be a busy reading month, so I tried to prepare myself as much as possible in April.

• I read my May book club choice in April (Bel Canto). 
• I read my CC Spin book straight away (Jamaica Inn which I finished last weekend. It will also allow me to join in Heavenali's #DDMreadingweek from the 13th - 19th May, as long as I make the time to write my review!)
• I finished two non-fiction titles that had been lingering on my table for a couple of months (A Vindication/Accidental Feminists).
• I looked at my Moby Dick stuff again & created a timeline for the August readalong.

I've also been busy with other bookish stuff:

Reading Kids Books:

• Cloud Boy by Marcia Williams
• Miss Mink: Life Lessons For a Cat Countess by Janet Hill
• Horatio Squeak by Karen Foxlee
• Song of the River by Joy Cowley
• Beverly, Right Here by Kate DiCamillo
• The Legend of Sally Jones by Jakob Wegelius
• Songbird by Ingrid Laguna

Trying to Find Some Calm:

• Create Calm by Kate James
• First week of alcohol and chocolate free month was rough, especially on Friday night, when we really wanted a beer with our pizza. We resisted, and felt better for it. 
• This week has been harder with the chocolate part, but I've had a few sweet biscuit treats instead. 
• A 3 hr walk (& coffee stop) on Saturday.
• A 2 hr walk (& coffee stop) on Wednesday.
• Eva Cassidy CD on high rotation.
• 2 bubble baths.
• And a new pair of shoes.

Strange, But True:

Yesterday, I had cause to google my blog name.
I discovered that many of my book reviews and catchy quotes therein have been added to a surprisingly large number of author websites. All Australian that I can see so far  - from Kate Forsyth, Matt Ottley, Sandy Fussel, Sulari Gentil, Judy Horacek to Aaron Blabey. I feel honoured and rather chuffed.

May Readalongs:

Nick @One Catholic Life is about to start off a new chapter-a-day adventure with The Count of Monte Cristo. This will be my third chapter-a-day readalong with Nick. Les Mis last year was hugely successful (for me) while my more recent foray into Don Quixote was less so.

I've had The Count on my TBR pile for 5-6 years now. It's another one of my lovely Coralie Bickford-Smith designed hardback Penguin editions.

Translated by Robin Buss, it is 117 chapters long.
The readalong starts Thursday 9th May and finishes on the 2nd September. It's not too late to join in.

Nick plans to post a quote a day on twitter and facebook using #montecristoreadalong
I hope to post most days :-)

May is also my next Iris Murdoch book, The Sea, The Sea with Liz @Adventures in Reading.

I've been very nervous about reading this book. It has been on my TBR pile for a number of years as a part of my plan to read as many Booker Prize books as possible, but I've been told by several people that it is a difficult read. I joined in Liz's readalong in the hope that reading some of Murdoch's earlier books, in the company of someone who so obviously loves and appreciates her work, would help me achieve success with The Sea, The Sea. I've now just been waiting to get the first few chapters of The Count under my belt before starting The Sea this weekend.
#IMreadalong

New To The Pile:

• Woman Rowing North by Mary Piper
• A Room Of One's Own by Virginia Woolf (I first read this years ago but lost/gave away my copy during one of my moves. Keen for a reread given my recent reading).
• Waverley by Walter Scott
• Circe by Madeline Miller
• Australia Day by Stan Grant
• Croatia - Lonely Planet (fingers crossed)

The Nice and the Good by Iris Murdoch

For the very first time, I've actually read my latest #IMreadalong book during the month selected by Liz @Adventures in Reading. The September read was The Nice and the Good first published in 1968 (a very good year, I might add) which makes it 50 years old.

It was an odd mix of murder mystery, rom-com and rural farce not unlike The Diary of a Provincial Lady of Cold Comfort Farm (both stories that left me cold and unmoved, wondering what all the fuss was about). If not for this readalong with Liz, I suspect I might feel the same way about Murdoch's books. 

Murdoch's books are about intelligence, philosophy and the craft of writing, they are not about heart and soul. The only way I can get through them is to embrace the cognitive element and research the sh*t out of them (to paraphrase Matt Damon in The Martian).

The extra research that I'm doing for these books has made me delve deeper into IM's themes, interests and intentions. I've explored some of her philosophical ideas, translated her many uses of Latin, French and German phrases and googled the various art works, authors and poets that she has mentioned in her books. These are things that I enjoy doing, as long as I don't have to do it for every single book that I read!

The Nice and the Good led me straight into the arms of the elegiac poet, Sextus Propertius (circa 50 BC - 15 BC). One of our main characters, Willy is writing a book about Propertius. I now know enough about IM to realise that this is significant. Just reading some of the quotes most famously attributed to Propertius, quickly showed that many of her plot points and character arcs could be linked to these. (The link attached to his name above, takes you to a translated reproduction of his Love Elegies where he waxes lyrical about his love for Cynthia.)

• Let's give the historians something to write about.

• Love is fostered by confidence and constancy; he who is able to give much is able also to love much.

• Let each man have the wit to go his own way.

• To each man at his birth nature has given some fault.

• If you see anything, always deny that you've seen; or if perchance something pains you, deny that you're hurt.

• Anyone who is an enemy of mine, let him love women, but let he who is my friend rejoice in men.

• Afflicted by love's madness all are blind.

• Let each man pass his days in that endeavour wherein his gift is greatest.

• Never change when love has found its home.

• Let no one be willing to speak ill of the absent.

• Love can be put off, never abandoned

• At last, an injury suffered brings you back to my bed, expelling you from the doors of another.

• Tell me who is able to keep his bed chaste, or which goddess is able to live with one god alone?

• Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Propertius And Cynthia At Tivoli by Auguste Jean-Baptiste Vinchon

Murdoch believed that humans are by nature deeply narcissistic but that genuine love - love of beauty or love of genuine good in another can change this. The Nice and the Good is all about the tension between this kind of genuine love and self-love. Murdoch uses red herrings, secrets, the supernatural and various other complications to drive the tension. Everyone seems to be hiding something in this book.

The Nice and the Good is also, quite obviously, about being nice and/or good. Or not. I could probably write a whole post just on that idea alone, but will leave that for others in the #IMreadalong to cover this off (hopefully).

Naturally the sea features significantly, not only in the lives of our characters, but also as a symbolic element for Murdoch to play with. My research for this particular book revealed a whole lot of stuff about katabasis - a descent or journey of some kind into the underworld, downhill, sinking, retreat, down south or to the coast and it's opposite idea anabasis - usually a trip from the coast to the interior. Obviously the cave scene was a katabasis device that led to a transformation for Pierre and Ducane. The ripple effects of this descent also changed the lives of everyone else involved.

Murdoch described her books as being either opened or closed. Open stories were driven by character and closed books were driven by plot. The Nice and the Good is obviously an open book, with it's large cast of characters.

One of our main guys, Richard had a thing for a piece of art called Venus, Cupid, Folly and Time also called An Allegory of Venus and Cupid and A Triumph of Venus by Agnolo di Cosimo (1503 - 1572), also known as Bronzino. It was painted in the Mannerist style with the classic figura serpentinata feature highlighting movement, tension and proportion.

Murdoch describes the painting via Paula with,

The figures at the top of the picture are Time and Truth, who are drawing back a blue veil to reveal the ecstatic kiss which Cupid is giving to his Mother. The wailing figure behind Cupid is Jealousy. Beyond the plump faced girl with the scaly tail represents Deceit. Paula noticed for the first time the strangeness of the girl's hands, and then saw that they were reversed, the right hand on the left arm, the left hand on the right arm. Truth stares, Time moves. But the butterfly kissing goes on, the lips just brushing, the long shining bodies juxtaposed with almost awkward tenderness, not quite embracing. How like Richard it all is, she thought, so intellectual, so sensual.

Many phrases associated with this work of art, also reflect the themes of the story - Ambivalence, elusive, lust, fraud, envy, unchaste love, transience of physical pleasure, crowded, beasts, madness, erotic, 'looking good' rather than 'being good'. And a discussion about the artist, sounds very much like Murdoch herself,

Is it liking or loathing? He lacks human warmth, you could say. He doesn't feel for his sitters as Rembrandt felt for his. He is intellectually removed. He scorns or inwardly mocks just as much as he preens and flatters. 

The Independent 2012, Great Works: An Allegory with Venus and Cupid, By Bronzino by Michael Glover

Murdoch is a particular type of English writer. Intellectual, distant, cool. The lack of warmth in her writing and the confusing messages about love and goodness are making me doubt whether I care to know any more about the philosophical musings of Simone Weil, Plato or Murdoch.

I underlined a lot of sections, but on rereading them, found that most of them were significant within the story and revealed much about IM, but very few of them felt significant to me.

I did like, towards the end,

Perhaps there were spirits, perhaps there were evil spirits, but they were little things. The great evil, the dreadful evil, that which made war and slavery and all man's inhumanity to man lay in the cool self-justifying ruthless selfishness of quite ordinary people.

And,

The past is gone, it doesn't exist any more. However, things that do exist are responsibilities occasioned by the past and also our thoughts about it, which we may not find it very easy to control. 

Without the extra research I think I would find these books rather dull and uninspiring. It's the layers that make them interesting in an intellectual way, but it's very hard to feel any emotions or care very much about any of her characters.

I appreciate Murdoch's books but I don't love them.

P.S. The foot on the left hand side of Bronzino's painting is the one famously used by the Monty Python crew.
P.P.S. The painting is hanging in the New York headquarters of the horologists in David Mitchell's The Bone Clocks.

The Nice and the Good was shortlisted for the 1969 Booker Prize.
#CClist2

The Unicorn by Iris Murdoch

My intention this year was to read through my handful of Iris Murdoch books with Liz @Adventures in Reading for her #IMreadalong. She's reading all of them, one a month, in chronological order. I only have to slot in five books, but so far I've been woeful at sticking to her schedule. Fortunately Liz has been very gracious about allowing me to join in whenever I get around to reading the book and reviewing it.

The Unicorn was the book to read for May. In my defence, it only came into my possession in June, after seeing The Unicorn and the Lady tapestry exhibition at the Art Gallery of NSW. At the time I didn't believe that there was any direct correlation between the tapestries and the book, except for the word unicorn, but upon reflection I can see some shared symbolism.

The six tapestries are thought to represent the five senses plus a sixth one representing the soul or morality. It is undecided whether the woman in this final tapestry is putting away her jewels into a casket, or taking them out. Is she putting away the symbol of earthly pleasure, desire, free will and sexual pleasure or is she a virgin about to embrace earthly, carnal pleasures for the first time, knowingly and deliberately?

The unicorn 'is also the image of Christ' according to Max, but in courtly tradition a unicorn symbolises purity, chastity and knowledge. Hannah as unicorn makes quite a bit on symbolic sense, although once I read that Hannah had a 'plentiful mass of red-golden hair' I began to imagine she looked more like the unknown, mysterious lady in the tapestries. A woman who didn't know whether to embrace or push away her desires.

Certainly one of my desires was satisfied by the very appealing Vintage Classics cover by Liam Relph. The various shades of green soothed and agitated me at the same time. The darkened castle, the tempestuous waves, the fading light all added up to a heightened sense of mystery and menace.

The incredible landscape of County Clare was the very first thing that struck me as I started reading. The land is described by Murdoch as appalling, God-forsaken, dreadful, grotesque and sublime. Her protagonist, Marion finds the 'vast dark coastline repellent and frightening. She had never seen a land so out of sympathy with man.'

The Burren, County Clare

Marian had read about the great cliffs of black sandstone. In the hazy light they seemed brownish now, receding in a series of huge buttresses as far as the eye could see, striated, perpendicular, immensely lofty, descending sheer into a boiling white surge. It was the sea here which seemed black, mingling with the foam like ink with cream.

The Cliffs of Moher, County Clare

The sea was a luminous emerald green streaked with lines of dark purple. Small humpy islands of a duller paler green, bisected by shadows, rose out of it through rings of white foam. As the car kept turning and mounting, the scenes appeared and reappeared, framed between fissures towers of grey rock which, now that she was close to it, Marian saw to be covered with yellow stonecrop and saxifrage and pink tufted moss.

Poulnabrone Dolmen, County Clare

The landscape had become a trifle gentler and a little dried-up grass, or it might have been a tufted lichen, made saffron pools among the rocks. Some black-faced sheep with brilliant amber eyes made a sudden appearance on a low crag, and behind them rose the dolmen against a greenish sky. Two immense upright stones supported a vast capstone which protruded a long way on either side. It was a weird lop-sided structure, seemingly pointless yet dreadful significant.

Looking, views and scenes are the predominant theme of The Unicorn. Everyone spends the novel looking in mirrors or out windows, and of course, the main house is call Gaze Castle. But other than the gorgeous, dramatic scenery, I'm not quite sure what we're meant to actually 'see'.

Maybe what I'm beginning to see is that Iris Murdoch had some issues of her own. I'm not sure that she liked people very much and she certainly didn't have a very high opinion of relationships. At least loving, healthy, adult relationships don't seem to feature in her books very often, but then, where's the story in that!

Perhaps the 'seeing' and 'gazing' going on here is all internal - navel gazing and psychological musings. The book that Marion reads with Hannah early on is called La Princesse de Cleves. I had to look this one up to find that it was a French novel published anonymously in 1678 and according to wikipedia, 'is regarded by many as the beginning of the modern tradition of the psychological novel'. It's a story of seclusion, spurned lovers, fidelity (or the lack thereof) and suffering. Another connection!

Seclusion, strange love and suffering certainly abounded in The Unicorn, as well as existential angst, confinement and a vague hint of domestic violence. Our characters also played a tug of war with the power of choice and non-choice and imprisonment versus freedom. Yet it's the potential of story (especially the stories we tell ourselves) to transform, inspire and escape that drives our characters to their various fates.

Another reference that had me reaching for google was that of Ate. 'Ate is the name of the almost automatic transfer of suffering from one being to another.' Max goes on to explain his thoughts more until he suggests that Hannah might be 'a pure being who only suffers and does not attempt to pass the suffering on' thereby ending the cycle or the power of the Ate.

Ate is the Greek goddess of mischief, delusion, ruin and folly. It can also refer to the action of the hero that leads to their downfall or death - the very first case of pride cometh befall the fall! And of course, The Unicorn has it's very own and very literal fall.

I'm sure there's also lots of stuff to be explored around Murdoch's continued use of the sea, the bog, the giving of dresses and jewellery, the situation of the two houses, all the donkeys and fish references and the seal. Hopefully when I go to visit Liz's review page after posting this, I'll find some more answers, or at least ask some better questions!

I should also read the Introduction again. I tend to skim it before starting to pull out a few of the main themes to help me on my way. Occasionally this backfires, when I accidentally read a spoiler, but mostly I can see them coming and skip over that section, until I can come back to it when I finish the book. One of the things I did get from the Intro by Stephen Medcalf, was Murdoch's fascination with Plato and Simone Weil (French philosopher, mystic and political activist 1909 - 1943). Two more things for delve into before reading my next Murdoch.

Of the three Murdoch's I've read so far, this has been my favourite. It had a vague Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier feel to it (that would be that Gothic thing I guess!)
I loved the melodrama and sense of menace and suspense that built up throughout the novel. It was eerie and creepy and disturbing as the characters became more and more insular and introspective. Love became twisted and bent out of shape. But there was always hope. As Effie said,

Love holds the world together, and if we forget ourselves everything in the world would fly into a perfect harmony, and when we see beautiful things that is what they remind us of.

Too bad he was delusional and delirious at the time!

Under the Net

Flight From the Enchanter
#IMreadalong

Liz's The Unicorn round-up post.

This was my latest #CCspin and book 18 of my #20booksofsummer (winter) challenge.

Flight From the Enchanter by Iris Murdoch

Flight From the Enchanter by Iris Murdoch was her second book published in 1956. However, there is evidence that it was the first book she actually penned, according to Patricia Duncker, who wrote the Introduction in my edition.

Either way, Flight From the Enchanter is an assured piece of of writing by an emerging writer. But what does it all mean?

I found myself asking the same question when I finished Under the Net last month. It would seem that Murdoch preferred to write set pieces loosely linked together with apparent randomness and bizarre coincidences. These set pieces were often gorgeous pieces of writing. I will never forget Annette swinging from the chandelier as she leaves formal education to embark on the School of Life! Or, Annette again making an international call 'opening out telescopically, section after section.'

What did Annette actually learn though? Let alone any of the other characters.

Annette learnt about the lure of fascination and sexual politics when they made an appearance in her syllabus. But the lesson learnt, or the answer to the muddle, seemed to be found in running back to mummy and daddy.

Rosa allowed herself to become enmeshed in a sexual power play and a weird kind of cold war comic menace with the Polish brothers, Jan and Stefan.

John got caught up in office politics and an early wave of feminist action. He had no idea whatsoever how to act around women of any age.  The only reason someone as inept and as pathetic as he was had 'achieved' as much as he had was thanks to the old boys club mentality.

Peter suffered from translator blues. He worried about individual words and meanings and headed off on tangents. He was another ineffectual man bumbling along looking for a saviour.

Nina was an outsider open to manipulation and to being forgotten.

Mischa seemed to be the power base or the saviour that everyone else gravitated towards. He was mysterious and romantic with his Continental connections and obscene wealth.

But I think that Calvin was the real power behind the throne. He manipulated everyone, including Mischa. The real menace emanated from his machinations. Was he being guided by Mischa? Probably, but I suspect he also took matters into his own hands, to get what he wanted. And he definitely didn't want Mischa and Rosa together again.

One thing all these rather odd characters all had in common was their inability to act responsibly and decisively. They drifted and wafted and let themselves be manipulated. All except, Calvin Blick.

What did we learn? What did all these characters learn?

I'm really not sure, but it was a fascinating journey anyway.

More reviews for FFTE can be found with Liz @Adventures in Reading.

Under the Net
#IMreadalong

Under the Net by Iris Murdoch

Hmmmmm, Under the Net by Iris Murdoch...where do I start?

Perhaps I should start with my expectations.

I expected an English-style comedy of errors featuring a bumbling, gentleman layabout.

I'm reading the Random Vintage classic version, so the back cover tells me that,

Jake, clever and lazy, makes a living out of writing translations and sponging off his friends. When he is kicked out of his latest lodgings he embarks on a series of fantastic and hilarious adventures around London involving movie stars, majestic philosophers, bookies, singers and a celebrity hound called the Marvelous Mister Mars.

In my mind I pictured Mr Bean, racing madcap around London, bouncing from one person, idea and purpose to the next. Or perhaps purposelessness would be a better term for what Mr Bean does and what I expected from Jake. I fully expected to see a Christmas turkey on Jake's head at some point!

Jake is a particularly English character. He tied himself up in knots of anxiety about his friendships and possible betrayals and all the social niceties that keep the (English) world ticking over. It was exhausting watching him move from one chaotic experience to the next without pause or reflection. Until he had time to pause, then her reflected and reflected and reflected until you could barely recognise the initial problem any longer! And like Jake, you could barely recognise the real person he he was thinking about any longer. Do we ever get to really know the people around us? That's a good question and one that Jake grappled with constantly with little success.

I did struggle around the halfway point to keep going with this story. Jake was annoying me with his bumbling, madcap antics, in pretty much the same way Mr Bean annoys me by the end of an episode. It was getting too ridiculous and silly and pointless!

So I did something I don't normally do.
I read some reviews by other participants of the #IMReadalong and on Goodreads.
They convinced me to persist.

I found myself chuckling about the ridiculous escapade on the fire escape, that quickly led to the bizarre madcap (that word again!) kidnapping of Mister Mars and the eventual fall of Rome!

But what was the point of it all?

I kept on.

And I'm glad I did.

One must just blunder on. Truth lies in blundering on.

So we blunder on to the lovely, poignant passage in Paris with Jake chasing his dream of Anna and his work at the hospital back in London where Murdoch finally begins to draw all the loose strings together. The final meeting with Hugo that gives Jake (and us the reader) all sorts of ah-ha moments and understandings were worth the long wait.

What is urgent is not urgent forever but only ephemerally. 
All work and all love, the search for wealth and fame, the search for truth, life itself, are made up of moments which pass and become nothing.

Liz's review for Under the Net.

Round Up post by Liz with links to other reviews.

It has taken me two weeks to read this book which gives Under the Net the dubious honour of being my first book finished and reviewed for 2018. But now I get to experience for myself, Jake's emotions as he began Jean Pierre's award winning book,

Starting a novel is opening a door on a misty landscape; you can still see very little but you can smell the earth and feel the wind blowing.

Flight From the Enchanter
#IMreadalong

Stories & Shout-outs #14

So, the 1st of December, time for the silly season to start!

As many of you know already I don't really do many/any yearly reading challenges, but I do love a good readalong. And there are two beauties that have caught my eye recently.

Liz @Adventures in Reading is planning a HUGE 18mnth readalong of the entire Iris Murdoch oeuvre...in chronological order. That's one book per month for the dedicated and fanatic!

When I first spotted Liz's post I only had The Sea The Sea, on my TBR pile, which menat that I wouldn't be joining in the readalong until May 2019!! But since then I have been acquiring (shhhh don't tell Mr Books!) more of her books. I now have Under the Net, The Book and the Brotherhood and The Flight From the Enchanter.

I'm now in catch up mode.

Under the Net was Murdoch's first book, written in 1954, and a November read. The Flight From the Enchanter is the December read. The Book and the Brotherhood is slated for September 2019! All my editions so far are Random Vintage Classics.

Follow along on twitter with #IMReadalong

The second readalong to pique my interest is Nick @A Catholic Life's year long readalong of Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. There are 365 short chapters in the unabridged edition of this chunkster classic - so that's one a day. Sounds like the perfect leisurely read doesn't it? For more details and to sign up pop over here.

I've never read Les Mis before or seen the movie, stage production or any other format of the story. I'm not quite sure how that has happened. All I know is that it's set during, in or around the French Revolution, one of the periods of history that I have a particular obsession with.

My edition of the book is the Penguin hardcover translated by Norman Denny. A bit of a brick, but it has a pretty ribbon marker to keep my place :-)

Follow along on Twitter with #LesMisReadalong

Have you spotted any interesting readalongs for 2018? I could be tempted!