The Black Prince by Iris Murdoch

It often takes me a bit to get into a Murdoch novel because usually there are several central characters with complex relationships to each other. But once I get to know them all and into the drama of the story I'm totally gripped. The primary conflict in this tale is between Bradley Pearson, an aspiring writer who has published very little, and his frenemy Arnold Baffin, a bestselling prolific author whose work Bradley looks down upon. Bradley is determined to write his masterwork but finds himself distracted by a group of people's messy issues and he unexpectedly falls in love with a much younger woman. Murdoch shows how ambition, jealousy and desire play out in a highly dramatic scenario with tragic consequences. Though Bradley has lofty ambitions to write a literary masterpiece it's ironic and hilarious that this narrative mostly told from his point of view (with significant forwards and afterwards from other characters' perspectives) focuses on the kind of salacious story he sneers at. However, it's a novel that perfectly demonstrates Murdoch's tremendous ability for writing in a way which is highly entertaining as well as artful.

I enjoyed the way this cleverly structured novel explores the debate and assumed division between “highbrow” literature and popular “readable” books. Arguments in the story concerning quality versus quantity in literary output and criticism made about new literature feel like they must have been close to Murdoch's heart. In her usual temperate manner, she approaches these issues with both great seriousness and a sly smile. The characters often represent sharply divided points of view or embody certain ideas. However, they also come alive as individuals and feel realistic in much of their evocative dialogue. Murdoch was such a master at writing compelling and fun books which also explored profound ideas and made frequent literary references. Shakespeare is an important touchstone in her work and this novel specifically plays upon 'Hamlet' in character parallels and overt discussions about the play's meaning and how it relates to Shakespeare's life as an artist.

It was initially challenging for me to get into this novel because Bradley is in many ways such a loathsome character. He's pretentious, cruel to his friends, dismissive towards his suicidal sister and seduces a woman less than half his age. Given that his voice dominates the narrative I didn't know if I could stomach his story. I often enjoy reading about unlikeable characters but his arrogant and self-centred manner is particularly irksome to me. However, he became a character I loved to hate as Murdoch subtly undermines him through the structure of her plot showing how his world implodes and he's served a delicious form of punishment. At the same time he's presented as thoroughly human and allotted a good measure of integrity. There's a lot more that happens in this story and a large cast of compelling characters from Bradley's wealthy ex-wife Christian to her cash-strapped gay brother Francis who makes the outrageous claim that Shakespeare was “The greatest homosexual of them all.” These figures all play off from one another in an enticing way.

It was especially pleasing that the BT Tower (formerly called the Post Office Tower) plays a role in this novel. It's such a distinct London landmark and there's a fun scene where two characters have dinner at the revolving restaurant at the top (which no longer operates.) Details such as this and the sensibility of the characters bring to life the sensation of 1970s England. It's interesting to contemplate what things have changed and what's stayed the same while also pondering all the universal issues that the author dramatises. I've still only read several books from Murdoch's impressive oeuvre of twenty-six novels. Reading “A Fairly Honourable Defeat” over the summer was such a pleasure, but I think “The Bell” is one of my favourites so far. I look forward to continuing my journey of reading through her complete works.

A Fairly Honourable Defeat by Iris Murdoch

The more I read of Iris Murdoch the more impressed I am by her keen attention to the complexities of friendships and love affairs. In fact, she dynamically shows that these two states can naturally blend into one another. The definition of this closeness comes to feel immaterial against the evolving feelings people have for each other as long as they lead with kindness and honesty. This was true in her novel “The Bell” and it's explored with even more tenacity in her 1970 novel “A Fairly Honourable Defeat” where several friends and family members uncertainly step over the line into romantic love. They are ushered into unfamiliar territory by a mischievous character named Julius King who acts as an agent of chaos meddling in the relationships of several people. These include happily married Rupert and Hilda with their wayward son Peter, Rupert's gay brother Simon and his longterm older lover Axel and Hilda's sister Morgan who is estranged from her husband Tallis. Inspired by A Midsummer Night's Dream, Julius tests their commitment to one another by sending false messages to suggest hidden desire. This provokes a betrayal of trust and jealousy which rattles the harmony of their relationships and inspires deep introspection. The result is a moving tale full of vibrant exchanges and an entertaining plot set in modern London.

Even if it strains credulity, the story functions like a contemporary piece of Shakespearean theatre where big philosophical concepts are tested in real working relationships. One of the central notions explored is that plain goodness is dull and evil actions make life exciting. Certainly Julius could be dismissed as a villain, but Morgan's glib handling of his feelings and other hidden aspects of his life make him into a much more complex character. Conversely a more conscientious figure such as Rupert has untapped desires and insecurities which rise to the surface when his core beliefs waver. An issue such as the characters' uneasy relationships to capitalism are demonstrated in Morgan's compulsive buying habits and Peter's shop lifting. Then there is the relentless bullying and hate spewed from Tallis' father Leonard. The personality and detail Murdoch imbues within each character made me believe and care about them while giving a compelling perspective on a range of weighty issues.

One of the most intriguing bonds which comes under strain is that between Simon and Axel. Murdoch always sympathetically included gay characters in her novels, but the nuance and care she showed towards this couple make them one of the most compelling examples of a long-term homosexual relationship I've ever read. Between younger Simon's promiscuous past and conservative Axel's uneasy sense of inhabiting his queerness, these tensions play out in their dialogue and manner towards each other in an entirely convincing way. What perhaps isn't as persuasive is when Simon's lust for a male Greek statue reaches such a feverish pitch he not only strokes the marble but licks it! It's an image so over the top I can only assume Murdoch meant it to be comic. There's also a frank discussion between Rupert and Hilda at the beginning of the novel which engages with many stereotypes surrounding homosexuals with Rupert's welcome assertions that essentially there's little difference between gay and straight relationships. There's complexity in Simon and Axel's bond which is influenced by either embracing or rejecting a gay identity, but their relationship is also troubled by things which would impact any other couple.

Overall, this is a satisfying and pleasurable read. The relative power imbalance between different couples and the question of how much honesty a relationship can take is teasingly played out in the story. Probably the most sympathetic character is Tallis who is coldly rejected by Morgan, taken advantage of by Peter and continuously scorned by his father Leonard. All the while he diligently tries to earn a living teaching and writing his own work. It makes for quite a contrast with the easy privilege and wealth of Rupert and Hilda. So it's especially interesting how he sounds through as the voice of reason and his interactions with Julius add an interesting layer to this tale. I think this is only the fifth novel I've read by Murdoch so I'm glad there are still many more of her novels for me to discover.

The Bell by Iris Murdoch

I’ve been very eager to read more by Iris Murdoch since this year marks the centenary of her birth. I’ve read a few of her novels in the past and probably “The Sea, The Sea” is my favourite. It’s a nice coincidence that I read “The Bell” after “The Blithedale Romance” because they both involve stories about the formation of intentional communities. While I was frustrated with the limited perspective Hawthorne gave of the organization and social challenges involved in creating and running such a community, “The Bell” showed more about this in its depiction of the workings of a lay religious community which exists directly alongside an enclosed nunnery. The interpersonal dramas of the community members provide an intriguing and sometimes ironic counterpoint to the hidden, unknown workings of the nuns who exist in a state of presumed harmony within their shielded religious devotion.

The story begins with the perspective of an outsider named Dora who travels to meet her husband at the community’s estate in the hope of reconciling their crumbling marriage. Gradually the narrative focuses more on the community’s pious leader Michael who struggles to suppress his homosexual desires when he becomes close to attractive younger men. A number of dramatic romantic entanglements ensue while the community prepares a christening ceremony for a new bell which is being delivered for the bell tower – it’s gone without a bell since (legend has it) the original 12th century bell was thrown into a lake which exists snugly alongside the community buildings. Though the story veers towards the melodramatic at some points, I nevertheless felt a real sympathy and connection with a lot of the characters. I also found the philosophical and religious arguments threaded throughout their encounters really compelling.

Murdoch is great at showing highly relatable psychological details such as Dora’s conundrum about whether to give up her seat on a train to an older lady or the awkwardness of a woman who doesn’t want to sound like a prig but who can’t stop herself from judging Dora’s behaviour. The novel also gets into the gritty combative behaviour that can occur in a small community of people who have strong values that they aren’t willing to compromise. A meeting about whether or not to shoot animal pests that ruin their crops becomes such a drawn out banal discussion, but I found it really poignant in that it shows how difficult it is for people with different values to live harmoniously. I got the feeling over the course of the novel that the more people cling to their high ideals the more they set themselves up to fall and feel disappointed when they can’t live up to them.

A small thing I really admired was how Murdoch portrays a young man named Toby who proudly uses the word “rebarbative” early in the novel. It’s a word he’s recently learned and likes the sound of. He uses it as a descriptive term again much later in the novel and I like how this reflects the way younger people can self-consciously acquire new language to interpret and describe the world around them. It fits so well as a way of expressing his precocious nature and also playfully shows a level of pretention to his character. Though he’s relatively naïve, he finds himself in a position of power to cause serious consequences to the community. Murdoch describes his sense of inner conflict so well especially in how he veers between feelings of victimhood and desire when he receives unexpected romantic attention. In fact, Murdoch is excellent at portraying the confusion many of her characters feel as well as their surprise at their own course of actions when decisions are made spontaneously.

One the most moving things about the novel is how seriously Murdoch treats Michael’s dilemma over his sexuality. It’s so compelling how he truly believes there is nothing wrong with his desires but that he must suppress them because they are at odds with his spiritual practice. This seems especially significant considering this novel was published nine years before the Sexual Offences Act which legalized private homosexual acts between two men in England – something author Sarah Perry notes in her excellent introduction to this new edition. Murdoch strikes me as wonderfully sex-positive in her writing, yet she obviously concedes it can lead to very tricky situations which her characters become entangled in. Just as compellingly she shows Dora’s dilemma as she tries to make her marriage to her husband work even though he’s often a patronizing bore. I think what’s so memorable about Murdoch’s novels is that she creates some really striking scenes which will stick with you because they so dramatically encapsulate the moral dilemmas her characters face.