Leading up to the Iris Murdoch Society Conference in 2028, but also because it’s something I like to do in every decade of my life, I’m rereading all of Iris Murdoch’s novels in order once again. The last time I did this, in 2017-2019, I ran a readalong project, and the time before, I read them with a group of friends: this is a solo effort, just to allow myself to think about how I find them as I move into my 50s (and age past a lot of the main characters!). So I’m writing more notes than recaps of the novels: if you want the deeper dive, please take a look at the Readalong post and comments for this one. My earlier review on here from 2008 (which is slightly less useless than the one for The Bell) is here for completeness’ sakes. I read my original copy which I suspect I bought in 1993-ish this time, seen bottom left. I don’t have a note of when I bought my rather marvellous Penguin paperback.
A couple of notes: I read this one immediately after “The Bell” because I wanted to fit it into Kaggsysbookishramblings‘ and Simon Stuck-in-a-Book‘s 1961 Week, which I have obviously managed to do (I was also slightly behind on my IM rereading pans so this catches me up).
And rather pleasingly, I found this receipt between pages 72 and 73 dating from 3 May 1993. I can only assume this was around the time I bought the book; I’d originally read my friend and neighbour Mary’s copy in 1986 and got round to buying up all the paperbacks that were out so far from the late 80s onwards. I bought 12 white baps for the price 6 cost now, some pick-and-mix and some cat litter, from Selly Oak Sainsburys (which itself is no longer there, though exists in a new incarnation a little way from its original site); I was living on Reservoir Road, Selly Oak, at the time, the year after I graduated from my first degree.
Iris Murdoch – “A Severed Head”
(my original 1993? copy)
Opening with Martin Lynch-Gibbon discussing his wife Antonia with his mistress Georgie, we are thrown into a whirl of relationships and deceit. Martin is supposed to be gentle and passive but is full of inner rage and is not a narrator with whom we identify and who we care for. With a small closed cast of Martin and his brother and sister, Antonia, psychoanalyst Palmer Anderson and his half-sister Honor Klein, along with Georgie (with three employees at Martin’s firm taking minor background roles), this feels claustrophobic and gothic (the first time we really get this, but it will come back with a vengeance). I first read this aged 14, and it was my first Murdoch: I still have no idea what I would have made of it then and how it hooked me into her work!
Thoughts on themes
Painted ladies / ageing hags
Georgie and Honor are unpainted and unadorned; Antonia is rather cruelly described as ageing, even “ravaged”, and “I noticed the rouge on her cheeks and how elderly she had become” (p. 164), although Martin often finds this increases his affection for her, harking back to Jake in “Under the Net”.
Sudden revelations
Nothing in front of art, but Martin is hit with a love revelation I won’t go into to not spoil the plot.
Reading Iris Murdoch post-#MeToo
Georgie is probably our candidate for a saint: there aren’t any non-masculine soft men in the book (Martin is described as soft but he’s relentlessly egotistical and self-obsessed).
Women aren’t treated well and Martin complains of adding a third woman to deal with to the two he already has; Antonia is afraid of Palmer. Martin is used to controlling Antonia with “the customary pressure of [his] will” (p. 25). But Martin is infantilised throughout, identifying his wife with his mother and her and her lover with his parents.
Mid-life crises?
Martin is in his 40s, Antonia five years older and Palmer a little older still, so it could be claimed that it’s all one big mid-life crisis, especially as Martin swaps his older wife for a younger model originally.
Alternative idea: set pieces
There aren’t really any big set pieces in this one, sadly. The journey to and from the station to collect Honor in the fog is the only one.
What’s changed in my reading this time?
I had forgotten what happens to Georgie, and the ending – how on earth as I’ve read this so many times? I remembered the main characters, the fog, the Gothic quality of it all and the plot up to a certain point.
What has stayed the same?
I still seem to find it quite glamorous and sophisticated, even while knowing that it’s a muddle and a mess and no one really comes out of it well! But I suppose my first reaction will always stay with me to an extent.
Links to my life and way of being
As in “The Sandcastle”, Antonia comments that “Happiness is not the point”, although I don’t subscribe to her need for relentless change and improvement (but I do like to continue to learn). Georgie doesn’t make a fuss and comments, “It’s only me,” but I’m not sure I picked that up from her.
As with my previous, this is my thinking aloud, and it might bet that these posts are only interesting to Iris Murdoch afficionados, I don’t know. If it’s disappointed you, go back to the first of the earlier links I posted and read a proper review. Back soon (but it won’t be quite the very next review!) with the next one!
Leading up to the Iris Murdoch Society Conference in 2028, and because it something I like to do in every decade of my life, I’m rereading all of Iris Murdoch’s novels in order, again. The last time I did this, 2017-2019, I ran a big readalong project, and the time before, I read them with a group of friends: this one is a solo effort, just to allow myself to think about how I find them as I move into my 50s (and age past a lot of the main characters!). So I’m writing more notes than recaps of the novels: if you want the deeper dive, please take a look at the Readalong post and comments for this one. My earlier review on here from 2008 (probably not worth looking at as it’s so short) is here for completeness’ sakes. I read my original copy bought in the 1980s, seen in the middle of the bottom row. I didn’t record when and where I bought the two older paperbacks.
Iris Murdoch – “The Bell”
(my original 1980s copy)
Dora is travelling to Imber Court, a lay community associated with an abbey full of nuns, to be reunited with her husband, Paul, after running away from him. She inadvertently travels with two other members of the community, Michael, who has inherited Imber and is using it as a refuge from a life marred by an old scandal, and Toby, a young man who is doing a summer retreat before university. More community members are encountered, and nuns, and the plans for both a human and a bell postulant to enter the abbey. Rotating between Dora, Michael and Toby’s viewpoints, we see the workings of the community (and, of course, its precise layout and relation to the lake and the abbey) and the discovery of an ancient, fabled bell in the lake. As Toby and Dora work to rescue it, both think over and work through changes that have recently happened in their emotional lives. The plot culminates in a scene of farce as the new bell tries to enter the abbey.
Thoughts on themes
Painted ladies / ageing hags
Dora appears as the ultimate woman in Toby’s young thoughts; she’s attractive but not painted. Mrs Mark is hairy, freckled and wide-faced and has solid calves, so another natural woman, if not painted in a good light. Catherine’s hair is all over the place. So not really a theme here.
Sudden revelations
Dora has our first art-based revelation when she sees the paintings in the National Gallery in a new light when she’s there escaping for a day from Imber (and Noel).
Reading Iris Murdoch post-#MeToo
My candidates for a saint this time are Sister Clare, the swimming nun, and Peter Topglass, careful, quiet observer – the more masculine, bearded or generally posh/army Mark and James are not in the running. Noel, though surely not a saint, is a harbour in a storm for Dora, and is fat, pale, passive and nondemanding, the opposite of Paul’s moustachioed, academic rigour. So the non-masculine saint is still a theme. Michael is viewed with loving kindness and forgiveness by the authorial voice.
There’s not actually too much MeToo stuff in this one. Paul is a horrible, controlling misogynist, but he’s seen clearly as such, it’s commented that he shouldn’t have married Dora just as much as she shouldn’t have married him, and his behaviour isn’t condoned. Mrs Mark has internalised the patriarchy and expects women and men to take on traditional roles, but that’s it, really.
Mid-life crises?
Is the whole setup of Imber Michael’s mid-life crisis? Not sure. There’s a lot of performative masculinity (even Patchway denigrates a machine which isn’t man enough for the job), but not a mid-life crisis as such.
Alternative idea: set pieces
Two great set pieces here. The removal of the bell from the lake is full of Murdoch’s trademark detail, and the final day of celebration is also a classic set piece including farce (it’s also reminiscent of Rain’s car going into the river in The Sandcastle). I found it pertinent that Toby is fulfilled by engineering – “The mechanical details of the plan aroused in Toby a sort of ecstasy. It was all so difficult and yet so exquisitely possible” (p. 215) – while I don’t like to make assumptions about authorial intentions, and IM herself lived in a house that actually fell down through lack of maintenance, and her saints often live in chaos, it feels like this is important to her, too
What’s changed in my reading this time?
Dora seems to be portrayed more kindly this time around: although there are some barbs about her not checking timetables, etc., she is described approvingly as living in the moment. I found James, Mark and Peter to be much hazier figures this time around, with only Michael, Toby and Dora (and perhaps Mrs Mark) in full focus. I’d always thought that all the “brotherhood” were equally balanced, so that’s a bit odd. I’d forgotten some of the ordering of the plot, with certain things happening nearer to the end than I’d thought.
What has stayed the same?
I had a good recall of the plot and characters. I remembered that it’s only Toby who uses the word “rebarbative”. I still retained my view that Michael is an occasionally weak and misguided but generally well-intentioned man who is not a predatory paedophile: I was wondering if this would have changed to fit more the views of my book group readers in my study of a good few years ago, with my lens of #MeToo, but no, I can’t see it. The Headmaster at the school and James Tayper Pace both acknowledge that the stories they’re told might not be true, and I struggle to see this as the patriarchy closing ranks, although you could do. I thought I might be more amenable to Mrs Mark this time around but she’s a monster with her little suggestions and constant correction of Dora.
Links to my life and way of being
I didn’t really get any links to how I’ve learned to live my life through Iris Murdoch’s books in this one. Maybe it would be odd if I’d taken something from each of them!
As with my previous, this is my thinking aloud, and it might bet that these posts are only interesting to Iris Murdoch afficionados, I don’t know. If it’s disappointed you, go back to the first of the earlier links I posted and read a proper review. Back soon with the next one!
Leading up to the Iris Murdoch Society Conference in 2028 (I already have something prepared for this year’s conference and I need time to get through all the novels one a month), and because I like to do this in every decade of my life, I’m rereading all of Iris Murdoch’s novels in order, again. The last time I did this, 2017-2019, I ran a big readalong project, and the time before, I read them with a group of friends: this time is a solo effort, just to allow myself to think about how I find them as I move into my 50s (and age past a lot of the main characters!). So I’m writing more notes than recaps of the novels: if you want the deeper dive, please take a look at the Readalong post and comments for this one. My earlier review on here from 2008 is here.
Iris Murdoch – “The Sandcastle”
(1980s)
Mor, a middle-aged teacher at a lower level public school, has a dull marriage to the controlling Nan and two children who aren’t going to achieve what he’d hoped. So when Rain Carter appears to paint a portrait of the old headmaster, Mor’s dear friend Demoyte, he’s ripe to fall for her. Against the background of school events and Mor’s fumblings towards becoming the candidate to be the local Labour MP, alongside his (and the family’s) friend Tim Burke, another of Murdoch’s slightly separate Irish men, and his ambitions for Mor. As Donald plans to climb a school landmark, Mor’s obsession climbs and so apparently does Rain’s.
Thoughts on themes
Painted ladies / ageing hags
Not really a theme in this one. Nan is quite glamorous but not really a painted lady; Rain is boyish. Does she move towards this theme from here?
Sudden revelations
Mor is hit by the thunderbolt of his love for Rain: “He waited. Then from the very depths of his being the knowledge came to him, suddenly and with devastating certainty. He was in love with Miss Carter. He stood there looking at the dusty ground and the thought that had taken shape shook him so that he nearly fell”. (p. 136)
Reading Iris Murdoch post-#MeToo
Saints are passive, non-threatening / non-masculine men (as discussed in the last post) – Reverend Everard fits the bill here. Poor Rain is pawed by Demoyte and then idealised by Mor. She only really has a “moment” when she realises Mor’s political ambitions and states firmly she would never let anything separate her from her painting. Meanwhile, it takes another man’s gaze for Mor to realise Rain is a decent painter and he’s excited later to be “keeping her in the house” (p. 164). Rain is described several times as boylike, with her slim figure and short, tousled hair (prefiguring “The Black Prince”).
I was reminded of something I thought I remembered IM saying which I found in a post in the IM Society Facebook (thank you to Daniel Read): ‘She writes this to Georg Kreisel, late Oct 1967, around the time when she’s starting to develop A Fairly Honourable Defeat: “I think I am sexually rather odd, which is a male homosexual in female guise. (This is fairly evident from the novels where it is the male queer relations which tend to carry the most force from the unconscious.) I doubt if Freud knew anything about me, though Proust knew about my male equivalent.”’ Is this because of her internalised misogyny?
Mid-life crises?
The book is basically about Mor’s mid-life crisis.
Alternative idea: set pieces
If the MeToo stuff is too much, an alternative idea to look at. Here, of course Donald’s climb and rescue, also Felicity’s spell and the car falling into the river. As with all the set pieces in the novels, there is so much satisfying detail. Note: Flight from the Enchanter – Annette’s jump to swing at the beginning / the AGM of the magazine. Under the Net – the rescue of Mr Mars and/or the destruction of the set.
What’s changed in my reading this time?
I had remembered most of this but I had sympathies for Bledyard this time around. I had thought the romance fascinating, now it seems dirty. I have been in my relationship longer than the Mors have been married. Is there a theme of long marriages somewhere, even before IM had one? Chimes with previous books I’d not noticed – Tim decides he wants to tell Nan all about his childhood, just as Mischa does in “Flight”.
What has stayed the same?
I remembered most of the story and main scenes. I have always loved this quotation:
Eccentric people, he concluded, were good for conventional people, simply because they made them able to conceive of everything being quite different. This gave them a sense of freedom. Nothing is more educational, in the end, than the mode of being of other people. (p. 62)
Links to my life and way of being
Bledyard’s late assertion chimed with me: “‘Happiness?’ said Bledyard, making a face of non-comprehension. ‘What has happiness got to do with it? Do you imagine that you, or anyone, has some sort of right to happiness? That idea is a poor guide.'” (p. 195)
As with my previous, this is my thinking aloud, and it might bet that these posts are only interesting to Iris Murdoch afficionados, I don’t know. If it’s disappointed you, go back to one of the earlier links and read a proper review. Back soon with the next one!
Edited to add: I forgot to include a link to Reading Ireland Month, to which the organisers assure me this book belongs, as IM was originally Irish.
In advance of the next Iris Murdoch Society Conference but one , and because I like to do this in every decade of my life, I’m reading all of Iris Murdoch’s novels in order, again. The last time I did this, in 2017-2019, I ran a big readalong project, and the time before, I read them with a group of friends: this time is more of a solo effort, just to allow myself to have a think about how I find them as I move into my 50s (and age past a lot of the main characters!). So I’m going to write more notes than recaps of the novels: if you want the deeper dive, please take a look at the Readalong post and comments for this one. My earlier review on here from 2008 is here: interestingly, I was baffled as to what it was “about” then, too!
Iris Murdoch – “The Flight from the Enchanter”
(08 November 2019, replacement for the inexplicably lost copy I had in the 1980s)
Annette leaves school and enters the university of life, emerges a bit battered and bruised having escaped at least two attempted rapes and one slip downstairs on a pile of underwear. Meanwhile refugees suffer and either disappear or die, civil servants are upstaged by their underlings, an academic hermit has his obsession disappear on him and a gathering of elderly feminists see off a threat
Thoughts on themes
Painted ladies / ageing hags
There are lots of painted ladies but the ageing hags are here transposed into wonderful harpies, ladies with walking sticks and hearing aids who come to the aid of an old feminist periodical. Nina’s dyed hair and arm hair gives her the appearance of “a small artificial animal” (p. 76) and Miss Casement’s hair is all artificial coils and pinnacles and Rainborough watches her apply her artificial face. Marcia is somehow a “natural bloom” while applying the same artifices as her.
Sudden revelations
I’m not sure of this theme now – I didn’t come across anything hugely revelatory here, just slow realisations.
Reading Iris Murdoch post-#MeToo
This suddenly seems fruitful – women are seen as something to share, something to attempt to possess, something to shut in a cupboard when they’re inconvenient, seen as threatening when they possess their own power (Miss Casement et al.). Mischa goes through a whole litany of the types of women, none good. Annette and Rosa are subjected to coercive control, as is Nina, in Mischa’s power. Can we read a portrayal of the controlling patriarchy in the books? Or has IM internalised the misogyny of the horrible men she was involved with (this one is dedicated to Canetti) with her similar women / differentiated men (I appreciate this moves away from Death of the Author). Saints are passive, overweight or doughy (thinking of Tallis / Jenkin as well as Peter Saward in this one), non-threatening / non-masculine men.
Mid-life crises?
Rainborough certainly seems to be in a mid-life crisis, attacking Annette and going off with Miss Casement in her sexy car.
What’s changed in my reading this time?
I had entirely forgotten the scenes when Rosa goes to Italy after Mischa Fox. I saw Mischa and Calvin as two halves of a whole person last time / before: but this time I could clearly see Calvin is in love with Mischa and wants to protect him and have him to himself at all costs. All of the characters, even Mischa, seemed more human this time around; fragile.
What has stayed the same?
I remembered most of the rest of the plot, apart from how the brothers were got rid of. The themes are still there and I remain more invested in the older characters. The horror of Nina’s position and the way she keeps asking for help and being forgotten/ignored still plays out against the horror of life as a refugee in the UK now, even more so, I think.
Links to my life and way of being
Not much in this one at all apart from feminists needing to stick together.
As with my previous, this is my thinking aloud, and it might bet that these posts are only interesting to Iris Murdoch afficionados, I don’t know. If it’s disappointed you, go back to one of the earlier links and read a proper review. Back next month with the next one!
In advance of the next Iris Murdoch Society Conference but one (see below for info on my plans for the next one), and because I like to do this in every decade of my life, I’m reading all of Iris Murdoch’s novels in order, again. The last time I did this, in 2017-2019, I ran a big readalong project, and the time before, I read them with a group of friends: this time is more of a solo effort, just to allow myself to have a think about how I find them as I move into my 50s (and age past a lot of the main characters!). So I’m going to write more notes than recaps of the novels: if you want the deeper dive, please take a look at the Readalong post and comments for this one. My earlier review on here from 2008 is here.
I suppose it’s going to be a bit like doing grounded theory research, where you ruminate over stuff as you do it and come up with the theory from the thinking, rather than having a theory first then working to it. Or something. I’m thinking about some themes here and then also links to my life and way of being, as I increasingly realised last time how I had gained a lot of myself from these books. And I will see what other themes emerge.
While you’re reading this, and before I launch into my Thoughts, for the upcoming Iris Murdoch Society Conference in August 2026, I’m doing a bit of research on Iris Murdoch Professionals and their Iris Murdoch Reading – the questionnaire is here and if you haven’t filled it in already and work with / study / write obsessively about Murdoch, you are most welcome to join in.
Iris Murdoch – “Under the Net”
(19 Jan 1995)
The picaresque, France-obsessed novel about a wanderer who treads lightly upon the world, which I still think somehow magically acts as an overture to the rest of Murdoch’s work: the only main theme that’s not present is stones, but everything else is here. How? This is probably why people get into the set of novels as a set, an oeuvre, not just the individual ones.
Thoughts on themes
Painted ladies / ageing hags
I wonder if there’s something to look into in her portrayal of women. Do they neatly divide into painted ladies / ageing hags / women who aren’t described at all? Here, it’s Madge who creates herself according to the trend and powders and foundations herself, Anna is ageing, and Mrs Tinckham isn’t really described but just *is*.
Madge:
Her prettiness lies in her regular features and fine complexion, which she covers over with a peach-like mask of make-up until all is as smooth and inexpressive as alabaster. Her hair is permanently waved in whatever fashion is declared to be the most becoming. It is a dyed gold. Women think that beauty lies in approximation to a harmonious norm. The only reason why they fail to make themselves indistinguishably similar is that they lack the time and the money and the technique. (p. 10)
Anna:
She was plumper and had not defended herself against time. There was about her a sort of wrecked look which was infinitely touching. Her face, which I remembered as round and smooth as an apricot, was become just a little tense and drawn, and her neck now revealed her age. The great brown eyes, which once opened so blandly upon the world, seemed narrowed, and where Anna had used to draw a dark line upward at their corners the years had sketched in a little sheaf of wrinkles. Tresses of hair which had escaped from the complex coronet curled about her neck, and I could see streaks of grey. I looked upon the face that I had known so well and now that for the first time I saw its beauty as mortal I felt that I had never loved it so dearly. (p. 37)
Sudden revelations
The sun began to rise over my intellectual landscape and I saw at last, in an outburst of clarity, the real shape of that which had before so obscurely compelled me to what had seemed to be a senseless decision … (p. 183)
This made me think of Effingham stuck in the bog in “The Unicorn” – is there one of these moments in each book?
What’s changed in my reading this time?
I think I’m becoming less and less tolerant of IM’s male narrators. I’m sure I must have thought Jake was terribly glamorous when I first read this (probably in my teens). But now, well, he seems a bit like Charles Arrowby in “The Sea, The Sea”, casting ideas onto women without really knowing them. In plot details, I remembered there being more in the cold cure clinic and less in Paris. I was confused by Hugo Belfounder not being a watchmaker in the beginning, but I remembered the Mr Mars stuff and the hospital scenes very clearly.
What has stayed the same?
As above, I remembered the film set and Mr Mars stuff. I still absolutely love the precision with which IM lays out buildings and flats and describes the processes of things. The themes we picked out in the 2008 reading are still there underpinning everything (women’s hair, men with huge faces, masks, swimming/water, writers (failed), writing the great work that will explain everything, chasing a woman in white through a landscape) and fortunately I still love the writing, the plot, the characters, even though my preferences might have changed.
Links to my life and way of being
Not much in this one, apart from the film studios being located on the New Cross Road, near where I lived for a while.
OK, it might be these posts are only interesting to Iris Murdoch afficionados, I don’t know. If it’s disappointed you, go back to one of the earlier links and read a proper review. Back next month with the next one!
Back in the spring, I submitted an abstract for the upcoming Iris Murdoch Society conference. I hadn’t attended a conference since 2017, when I talked about my book groups project but I’d done another re-read of all the novels in 2017-19 and thought I could make something out of the way I’d aged past the characters in the novels that time around and how I’d shared my readings in different ways (find the project page here). Abstract duly accepted and I booked to go to the conference and to stay in university accommodation for the three nights.
Thursday
I did some work early on (which was handy as I struggled with the WiFi when I got there) then set off by bus to New Street Station, from there to Southampton and from there to Chichester. It was about a 25 minute walk to the university campus, up a long narrow lane we subsequently avoided. I found the accommodation office and my room, one of three in a flatlet thing, very studenty but clean and reasonably comfortable.
My room. I’d brought my 2017 goody bag to prove to myself I’d managed this before …
I unpacked and sorted myself out then got in touch with Rivka, who I’ve been on a panel with at various of these conferences and stayed in touch with in between, so knew was a friendly face, and we walked down to the bus stop where we met other Murdochians to walk to the city centre and go on a guided tour. Much exclaiming and greeting of old friends ensued, but we also managed to get around the very good tour.
Chichester CathedralYou don’t often find the late Queen on a Cathedral door surround!
Rivka and I and American Scott and Belgian Yanni went for dinner afterwards, then walked back together. I had a slight fret about not being able to get WiFi or phone signal / not knowing where to go in the morning for breakfast – a good wallop of imposter syndrome even though I knew the Murdoch scholars are always thrilled to see those of us who read and approach her for fun among the philosophers and professors. A decent night’s sleep and ready for Friday.
Friday
Of course I found the canteen and breakfast fine and met up with organisers Miles and Frances and lots of other people I knew or met.
The courtyard outside the canteenLooking back towards the accommodation. The chapel is being refurbished.
Then it was time for the start of the conference. We picked up our goody bags, complete with notepad, schedule, badges, pen and a bookmark, and our badge (there was a Liz Dexter one thoughtfully provided too which I failed to notice).
Then there was a welcome from Miles Leeson and the Deputy Vice-Chancellor of the University, Mark Mason, who seemed a nice chap. The Plenary was by Frances White and was about Murdoch in Her Age, looking at philosophers and writers who were contemporary and written about or discussed in books, joint biographies and the like – painstaking work and fascinating. After a tea break, the first panel sessions started. There were two or three panels featuring usually three speakers on at the same time in each session so there were choices to be made – but not in the first one, because that was the panel I was on!
I had broken free from my usual slot with Rivka and Carol to be in one which should have been “New Perspectives on Iris Murdoch’s Fiction: Ageing, Colour, Brazil”, but we were missing Brazil and added “Laughter” in Robert Cremins’ interesting paper contrasting laughter in “Under the Net” and Walker Percy’s “The Moviegoer” based around an interview with Iris and John at Tulane University. Then I spoke on “Ageing into Murdoch’s Main Characters: Pluralities of Re-readings and Disseminations” looking at how the books changed under my last re-reading to feature older women, marriage and a changed attitude to younger and older characters (I’m happy to send the paper to anyone interested – just let me know). James Jefferies then presented on his fascinating project to record the colours mentioned in Murdoch’s novels in a visual form (see his lovely postcards above), via computer analysis through various different colour palettes. We had a good audience and lots of interesting but not horrible questions and Dan Read did a great job of convening us. Phew!
After a buffet lunch with a presentation by Gillian Dooley of a song cycle by Malcolm Williamson which I didn’t manage to get to, I braved a panel with “philosophy” in the title: “Philosophical Inspirations from Classic Novels”. Cathy Mason talked about “Self and Self-Transcendence in Murdoch and Middlemarch”, Eva-Maria Duringger looked at “Being Truly Seen and Understanding Words in Private: Themes from Murdoch’s Philosophy in Austen and Eliot” (“Mansfield Park” and “Daniel Deronda”) and Elise Ruthenbeck made us all look at trees out of the window as we considered “Searching for Real Love in Middlemarch and The Sovereignty of the Good”. I managed to follow all three reasonably well and they were again fascinating.
After tea, I went to “Influences on Iris Murdoch from the East” Sadly, Jianfeng Yue wasn’t able to attend, but Paul Hullah’s “Your Whole Self In, Your Whole Self Out: That’s what Iris Murdoch’s All About” made me think a lot about my own underpinnings for how I live my life, describing ideas about dependence, decisive action and acceptance of how it is taken from Japanese thinkers Takeo Doi and Shoma Morita, which worked their way through Murdoch’s novels and into my head and actions. Zhiqui Wang presented a paper packed with information on a dialogue between Murdoch’s ethics and a Chinese Confucian which had a lot of concepts explained very well.
The Market Cross in the centre of town at night
A few of us went out to Wagamama’s for dinner and discussed all sorts of non-philosophical and non-Iris Murdoch things, although plenty of IM stuff, too. It’s so wonderful to get to talk about her constantly for four days!
Saturday
I am afraid to say I bunked off the Plenary with Justin Broakes chaired by Gary Browning as I’d already booked in to volunteer at parkrun (which was happening in the park next to the campus, amusingly called Oaklands Park which is the name of my home parkrun).
You have to have a selfie with the parkrun signNo distant spires in “my” Oaklands Park!
My reasoning was that if I was finding the conference a bit challenging, I could go and do something where I knew what I was doing. I was loving the conference but the parkrun was super, very friendly, and I barcode scanned lots of lovely finishers. Chichester has been having a Big Hoot Owl Trail with owl sculptures being auctioned in aid of Chestnut House Hospice, and some people from the hospice were there giving out little owl medals – to volunteers as well as parkrunners!
I got back to the conference in time for the tea break then it was time for the panel I was most looking forward to: “Artists and Scientists: Portraiture, Prints and Sculpture” chaired by Frances and featuring scientist Rivka Isaacson and artists Kevin Petrie and Carol Sommer (I know Carol from other conferences and keeping in touch in between, as with Rivka and I’d met Kevin during the earlier part of the conference and he was staying in the same flatlet as me).
Frances introducing Rivka
Rivka’s “Portraiture Promoting Interdisciplinary Aspiration and Inspiration in School Science and The Sandcastle” looked at the structures of DNA and the structures of plotting in “The Sandcastle”, introducing a way of showing the novel in a table which got the teacher in the audience very excited. Kevin’s “Reading Iris Murdoch and Making Art – Aspirations and Inspirations” knocked me for six rather.
My name on Kevin’s slide!I hope to be able to go to Kevin’s exhibition in Kingston later in the year
A few years ago, I and Kent Wenman were on the Iris Murdoch podcast talking about being readers of the novels, and Kevin heard this and was inspired to read the novels in order: being an artist, he was then inspired to make art as he read some of them. Seeing my name up on his slide and realising properly that I’d help inspire these pieces to be created was quite a thing, alongside all the wonderful images and details of his print-making.
Carol Sommer presenting her work-in-progress
Then Carol with “Troubling the Metaphors (or Iris Murdoch, Eros and Minimalist Sculpture)” shared her engagement with (male, somewhat priapic) minimalist sculptors by subverting their ideas and making her own artworks with a more feminine, playful and interrogatory aspect also working with Murdoch’s ideas on Eros. Her art is amazing and this work-in-progress is wonderful.
Two northern artists: Kevin Petrie and Carol Sommer
After lunch with a preview of a hopefully soon to be made film of “The Italian Girl” and a Q&A with screenwriter Jemma Kennedy and agent Giles Smart about a hopefully to be made film of “The Sea, The Sea”, it was time for another two excellent panels.
First of all “New Readings of Some Late Iris Murdoch Novels” saw Elin Svenneby talk about “Praxological Aspirations in The Good Apprentice” through the lens of the Norwegian philosopher Jakob Meloe (that sounds a bit scary but Elin’s good at making things understandable), and then Rose Solari give a fascinating paper on myth in “The Green Knight”, “Once Upon a Time: Myth and Reality in The Green Knight”, bringing in ways we bring our own myths and stories into our reading.
Elin talks about Murdoch and MeloeRose and Paul chairing
Finally, I attended “New Readings of The Philosopher’s Pupil and The Message to the Planet” with Danika Brown talking about “Rosanovism” and neurodiversity in characters in “The Philosopher’s Pupil”, Rachel Handley discussing Machievelli and Murdoch with reference to the same novel, looking at fate and moral virtue, and Rob Hardy doing a comparison between “The Message to the Planet” and Howard Jacobson’s “Kalooki Nights”.
Dinner at Ask – thank you Carol for the picture
Dinner at Ask for nine of us was a lovely way to round things off, followed by a (soft for me) drink at one of the pubs, where two other Murdochians were staying.
Sunday
Sunday was a day of enquiry and inspiration.
We started off with a Plenary on “Iris Murdoch as a Moral Realist” by Nikil Krishnan, who was very engaging and lovely but did speak about a lot of philosophy stuff. However, he admitted he hadn’t finished “The Book and the Brotherhood” so obviously I sprang at him over coffee and asked why. That book followed me around a bit: during the coffee break, Miles had added one of his book collection to the book sale table, I spotted it, thought it would be very expensive, it wasn’t, and I bought it. Look!!
Yup: an uncorrected proof of The Book and the Brotherhood!
One last panel and I chose “Iris Murdoch and Prejudice” – a very stimulating pair of papers. David Fine talked about “Seeing Colour in The Red and the Green”, looking at the moral and political and Murdoch’s opposition to “Women’s Studies and Black Studies” and where that might come from. Heather Levy gave a great paper, “Now You Are Just a Queer in a Cord Coat: The Libidinal Inspirations and Disruptive Aspirations of Henry and Cato” (so two pieces on little-discussed novels) looking at racial and other prejudices in the novel. These two papers and the ensuing discussion got me thinking that my next re-reading of the novels will be through a social justice lens, something to bring a paper out of. However, I’d need 26 months to re-read them and the next conference is in two years … But then the idea came to me that, as an editor by trade, I could do a textual comparison of my new proof copy and my first edition and subsequent paperback of “The Book and the Brotherhood” for the next conference (I have options to do this by hand or commission some non-intrusive scanning!).
Miles and Anne do the Closing Remarks
Miles and Anne Rowe did the Closing Remarks and then it was time to say goodbye to friends old and new. I made my way to town with James and Elin and managed to have a chat with Anne, too. We got some lunch at Marks and Spencers and picnicked at the station, then it was time to go to our separate platforms and make our way home.
Goodbye, Elin and James!
My journey was a little fraught but thanks to a great train manager (I’ve already sent praise in and had a thank you from the train company) I got my third train fine and was home with a takeaway arriving 15 minutes after I did.
What a wonderful long weekend. So stimulating and fun, getting to talk about Murdoch, knowing that I could hold my own, meeting other scholars and “just readers” (hooray) and thinking about what I can do next. Massive thanks to Frances and Miles with their departmental helpers Heather and Danika for organising such a super event.
Well, it’s the last day of my 26-month Iris Murdoch Readalong and time to summarise our discussion of Jackson’s Dilemma and indeed the whole re-read. Which feels impossible right now.
We had a good discussion of Jackson and his dilemma over on my review of the book, and I think it’s so lovely that Peter, Jo and Maria were there to talk about the book, as they have for EVERY SINGLE ONE all the way through. Jo was even reading them for the first time, and that’s amazing, to do the whole lot like that, isn’t it? Even I didn’t read all the ones that were available immediately upon discovering IM!
Jo has done her usual excellent Goodreads review and as ever, if you are coming to this outside the original project in 2017-2019, please do add comments or links to your reviews, I always love seeing them!
Peter has been amazing at sharing cover images of his copies of the book – mainly US first editions but also some excellent paperbacks. Here’s his first edition of Jackson, very like my paperback but with a nice filigree effect on the background to the title.
Project round-up
What have I learned this time around – which was at least my fourth read of each novel apart from Jackson’s Dilemma, which was my third?
There is more feminism than I ever thought was in there
I am now older than most of the main characters in the book. As I’ve read them again and again, I’ve become more understanding of the older characters, more impatient with the younger ones
Some books have slightly dropped in my estimation – I was rather horrified at the violence in “A Word Child”, for example. I was more reconciled than ever to “An Unofficial Rose”, which I have always thought one of my less favourites, and got a lot more out of “The Message to the Planet” than on other occasions, so that I won’t actively dread reading it another time.
I think that “The Philosopher’s Pupil”, “A Severed Head”, “The Book and The Brotherhood” and “The Green Knight” remain my favourites. The others have evened out more, though. Jenkin Riderhood is probably still my favourite character, along with N from “Philosopher’s Pupil” (still).
Having read them all the way through in my 20s, 30s and 40s, I can’t wait to read them all again in my next decade – so in 2022 at the earliest. IM is still my favourite author and I will still press her upon people – and now I have this great wellspring of discussion to point people towards.
I have loved doing the project “live” on my blog this time around and thank everyone who has contributed in whatever way, but especially my three stalwarts. If you have found this blog via IM, I hope you stay around to talk about other books here.
What’s your favourite so far? Your least favourite? Do you have a photo to share of you reading one of the books, or where you read it?
You will find a page listing all of these blog posts here.
Having finished my Iris Murdoch Readalong in good time, I’ve had time to add in a couple of IM-related books, this being the first. I bought this back in August when the Iris Murdoch Society advertised some books that had been sold at the Centenary Conference (which I’d been unable to attend because of running an ultramarathon that weekend, as you do) and being reminded of it made me snap it up but also think that this time of year would be the perfect time to read it.
Miles Leeson (ed.) – Iris Murdoch: A Centenary Celebration
(26 August 2019)
A collection of biographical essays/memoirs about various people’s encounters with IM, which it’s explained in the Preface originated from a collection Peter Conradi put together for IM’s 80th birthday. When she didn’t make it to 80, the collection was filed away in various archives, to be brought out again and revitalised for a centenary volume, happily. This leads to slightly odd moments when the contributors describe IM in the present tense, but also allows us to experience a deep and rich telling of different stages and aspects of her life from people who are in large proportion also no longer with us (from Roy Jenkins to Lady Natasha Spender).
Although I always claim to espouse the reader-response (or Death of the Author) theory in reacting to texts through my own lens, not that of the author or subject, of course once reads this for the tiny insights and fascinating impressions. I did love details like the parts around the Spenders; house in France that informed “Nuns and Soldiers”, the wartime lack of proper hot water bottles that led to them being mentioned often in the novels, and the connection between the former English cricket captain Mike Brearley and Murdoch, via the report of Indian academic Saguna Ramanathan. Stones appear, particular stones, too, pleasingly often, and of course I loved the piece by Carmen Calil about being IM’s editor. It was also good to revisit A.N. Wilson’s chat with Leeson from the Conference before last.
A lovely companion for any student of Iris Murdoch or fan of her novels or philosophy, with something for everyone (and, of course, useful biographical notes on the contributors).
Well it’s that time again – for the last time! I can’t believe it’s the end of our readalong of all of Iris Murdoch’s novels in order, started back in November 2017. What a wonderful time it’s been, and I’ve so enjoyed everyone’s comments, especially Peter, Maria and Jo’s who have read and commented on every single book (and massive extra kudos to Jo, who has been reading them all FOR THE FIRST TIME! One a month for 26 months!).
I was slightly dreading this one, and I have got two more fun IM books to look forward to this month, but in fact it wasn’t as awful a read as I feared. I am pretty sure I’ve only read it twice before, once when it came out in paperback and once when I read through all the books with Ali, Gill, Sam et al. in 2009-11.
If you’re doing the readalong or even selected books along with me, or of course some time afterwards, do share how you’re getting on and which have been your favourites so far.
Iris Murdoch – “Jackson’s Dilemma”
(1996)
We meet the central characters of the novel on the eve of the marriage of Edward Lannion and Marian Berran. Benet feels connected to everyone and wants to make sure it all goes off well. But something goes wrong and for the rest of the novel we are either looking back at how it came to this or rushing around London looking for Marion. Meanwhile Benet becomes burdened with the marriage plans of several previously seemingly unrelated couples and has to finally come to terms with his relationship with his mysterious manservant, Jackson.
It’s shorter than IM’s previous ten or so novels, and some parts seem almost in note form. There’s a terribly sad note of loss and confusing running through the whole text, and however much I cling to Reception Theory and try to only take note of my own personal reaction to the novel you can’t help but read IM’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis into moments here and there, especially when we’re inhabiting Benet’s and Jackson’s consciousness. I’m not going to dwell on those, but on the rest of the book: as I discovered in my research on “The Bell” and book groups, IM’s legacy seems divided between her being a “difficult” writer and a poster girl for dementia. Let’s just find the Murdochian elements in the book for a while.
The characters’ descriptions are all classic Murdoch, from Edward with his hair “slightly curling, thickly tumbling down his neck” to Anna and her complicated bun and Mildred with her combs and Owen with his big, wet face. The sea and stones are there, the stones right from the start, a special one having broken Edward’s window. Religion and the form of religion one should follow are discussed in the same way as in other books, finding a personal Christ or perhaps going to India and squatting in a sari among the gods there. There are no dogs or cats, but Spencer the retired horse is a saint-figure in animal form, absorbing tears and murmurs and providing a refuge between the two big houses. Benet is trying to write a book on Heidegger and the dead Lewen was writing a book on history which Bran might finish. London and birds are constant presences, and as in “The Green Knight” the characters seem to be constantly crossing and re-crossing the city on foot and in taxis.
Dualities abide, of course. There are the who houses, Hatting Hall and Penndean, reminiscent of the two houses in “The Unicorn”, maybe. Benet has the two houses, one in London, one in the country, and then the London house has itself and its adjunct lodge where Jackson lives. Edward had his brother, Randall and Cantor has a brother on the sheep farm, who Jackson claims to be in order to gain access to him. Uncle Tim is the brother of Benet’s dead father (I think?). Tuan’s father has a sister he loses in the Holocaust. Then Marian and Rosalind are sisters. Edward goes twice to the beach, once to remember his brother’s death.
There are a few saintly characters in the book, although most seem flawed. Benet has netsuke but only rearranges them on the mantelpiece and was given them by Owen. He tries to do good but realises he’s just meddling in people’s lives. Owen has a chaotic room but only one room, so the netsuke don’t really indicate saintliness from his end, either. Mildred is stated as visiting the sick and assisting the homeless but she enjoys the attentions of her priest and seems more allied to the social worker types in other novels than a proper saint. Uncle Tim remains “absolutely childish” (p. 9), has lived in India, is something of a sketched-in mystic and always sees the best in people – or, indeed, kindred spirits. As he has died by the time of the action, he almost takes on the role of those saintly fathers we come across from time to time (Charles Arrowby’s, for example). Is it Jackson, then? He does seem to absorb stories and guilt, which is always a good sign, moving quietly in the world and doing good in it. But also is he a mystic, a James Arrowby, with his selection of ages? At the end, he’s letting a spider pass across his hand: another good sign. But he’s also mentioned as an enchanter: Uncle Tim is “enchanted, taken over” by him (p. 86).
Still those feminist points have a habit of creeping in. Anna has to hide her husband’s infertility and her mother had to give up her musical ambitions when she married an unmusical man, something that then also happens to Anna. Farce is alive and well at Owen’s house when everyone comes round to see him, not realising Jackson is there. And while this is clearly not the funniest book in the world, we smile at Owen’s dream of being a slug: “… when he tried to wave his horns at them, he suddenly realised that slugs do not have horns. Not even that, he thought in his dream” (p. 241).
I marked the mysteries in the book to check they are rounded up safely – Edward’s third awful deed after his brother and Marian is the encounter with Anna and Tuan tells the secrets he keeps about the Holocaust and his wealth to his bride.
In links to other novels, Moy’s feyness seems to have crept through into Edward, with his Cornish roots giving him his. Randall’s death in the sea seems to echo Moy’s near-drowning very closely – but also all the other times people have got into trouble in the sea. I like to see the Australian character all grown up and getting the girl – payback for “An Unofficial Rose”, I wonder. Rosalind dressing as a boy recalls any number of boyish women throughout the novels. Is the bronze statue of Shiva on Benet’s desk the one out of “The Book and the Brotherhood”? People fly away, Marian to Australia, but Mildred never makes it to India, lodging doing good in the East End, surely there running into several characters from others of the novels. Owen shows Jackson the Post Office Tower from his top room and we’re whizzed back to “The Black Prince”. The picture, the Flaying of Marsyas, is mentioned when Owen is discussing art, shame and pain with Benet and Mildred. Edward and Randall buy a book by John Cowper Powys, and at least two characters were reading him in “The Green Knight”. The Holocuast is exacting its price of memory from the next generation on from Marcus Vallar, in Tuan.
This review seems piecemeal and slightly lost, maybe like the book, and me reaching the end of this project (not long till I’m in my 50s and can do it all again, though …). I did enjoy it, though it will never be my favourite. And watch this space for other IM books this month and an opportunity at the end of the month to discuss our top 5 from the whole readalong!
Please either place your review in the comments, discuss mine or others’, or post a link to your review if you’ve posted it on your own blog, Goodreads, etc. I’d love to know how you’ve got on with this book and if you read it having read others of Murdoch’s novels or this was a reread, I’d love to hear your specific thoughts on those aspects, as well as if it’s your first one!
If you’re catching up or looking at the project as a whole, do take a look at the project page, where I list all the blog posts so far.
Well, it’s time to round up our reading of “The Green Knight” and I’m feeling quite sad that this is the second-to-last round-up post and the LAST preview! I’m glad that I have my new challenge planned for 2020, and I’ve also got two super books – the Centenary Celebration and Chris Boddington’s A-Z – to read after I’ve read “Jackson’s Dilemma” in December.
Back to “The Green Knight”, though. I really enjoyed my re-read of what is staying as one of my favourite of all the novels (although I’d managed to forget some pretty major plot points, as usual I remembered quite a few small details!). A couple of our usual suspects have posted comments on my review, and I am hoping for a few more. It’s been such a pleasure to have three people who have accompanied me on the read through all the novels over more than two years, and I have heard from other people that they’ve read and enjoyed my reviews and the comments. Your comments on any of the posts are of course gladly welcomed at anytime! Jo has done another great review on Goodreads (and I’m thrilled she’s mentioned looking forward to her re-read, as she’s been reading all the books FOR THE FIRST TIME with us!). I will add links to other reviews as they come in.
Peter Rivenberg has stalwartly and as usual sent me a picture of his American first edition:
They’ve clearly used the same image as on the UK first (is this a first?) but held it in a frame, and I quite like this one. I wonder if there are any other editions out there – let me know if you have one.
If you have any fun paperbacks or alternative covers, do send me covers to include as I love seeing all the different ways the books are interpreted.
“Jackson’s Dilemma”
Well, here we are with the last novel. As with “The Green Knight”, Vintage didn’t republish this one (I really do wish they hadn’t tailed off, although having shelved all my paperbacks together you don’t notice the oddness so much. I bought the paperback when it came out in 1996, and added the hardback first edition to my (very small then) collection on 17 May 2008 from the Sensible Bookshop in Hay-on-Wye.
Two very different covers but both effective at getting the book across in their own way.
Here’s the blurb from the first edition:
I’m not sure the first paragraph makes it sound like an IM: maybe we’re reminded of the grounds with the summer house in “The Philosopher’s Pupil” or the big house in “Henry and Cato” (or maybe I’m just being sentimental).
And from the Penguin paperback:
I can remember being pleased there was to be another enigmatic servant, and I love seeing Jane Gardam’s (another favourite author) name on the back, but I think Julie Myerson’s quote has perhaps been taken from a longer and more critical review.
It’s fairly well-known that this last novel was published around the time that Murdoch’s diagnosis of Alzheimer’s came to the public attention, and I think I realised at the time it was going to be the last one. There’s lots of discussion about reading Alzheimer’s into the book which you can find with a search: I’m going to try to apply my beloved reception theory to this re-read (I think I’ve read it twice before, once after Paul Hullah redeemed it for me by giving a talk about the animals in it at one of my first Iris Murdoch Society Conferences) and read and react to it as it is. There’s certainly still much to love in it.
Are you going to be reading or re-reading “Jackson’s Dilemma” along with me? Are you catching up with the others? What’s your favourite so far? Your least favourite? Do you have a photo to share of you reading one of the books, or where you read it?
You will find a page listing all of these blog posts here, updated as I go along.
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