Skip to main content

The Puppetmaster


I picked up Iris Murdoch’s A Fairly Honourable Defeat two weeks ago on the way to the Symphony because it fit in my purse, I’d been meaning to read it, and it was much lighter (physically, topically) than A.N. Wilson’s Victorians.

In the novel, Murdoch creates a closely connected cast of characters who are destined to become even more entangled as the drama ensues. Rupert and Hilda have just celebrated their wedding anniversary; Hilda’s sister Morgan is coming back from the States in a fragile emotional state following the dissolution of her marriage with Tallis and her affair with a scientist, Julius King. Peter, son of Rupert and Hilda, is a college dropout living with Tallis. Simon, Rupert’s younger brother, lives with an older man (and Rupert’s colleague), Axel. When Machiavellian Julius arrives in town and, certain of his power to disprove Rupert’s theory of goodness and love as moral absolutes, decides to play puppet master with the people around him, confusion follows.

It was an absolute page-turner, but not without a beauty of phrase, fiendish plot construction, and the posing of serious ethical questions. I recommend anything she’s written, but found this better than Jackson’s Dilemma (her last novel, generally acknowledged to be average) and tighter than the Green Knight.

Iris Murdoch works on my mind the way that A.S. Byatt does, though differently. They are both intellectuals, both academics, but Byatt is clearly a student of literature and Murdoch a student of logic and philosophy. Both are fearless plumbers of human consciousness and sharp thinkers, with the ability to make me very nervous about my own intellectual abilities.

In Murdoch’s novels, the worst that can be said about one is that one is “muddled.” The biggest sins belong to those who are convinced of their intellectual superiority, but in life are resigned to petty sentimentalism, dramatics, and shoddy dabbling in various occupations.

This causes me to fly everywhere at once thinking “She’s right; muddling about is awful; sloppy thinking and poor reasoning is awful” and then start thinking that I should clean the house again, and practice the piano for two hours, balance my checkbook, work on something concrete like languages or trying to read philosophy – and then I realize that what I am doing is muddled. It’s a conundrum. Best to just get on with living.

[I am so angry that this title was dropped from the Lost Booker Shortlist. Furious. Muriel Spark will have to get my vote.]

The letters of Iris Murdoch are being published later this year and I can’t wait to get my hands on them. For one, I would like to access her thoughts more directly and two, I have a sudden mania for reading letters.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The School of Hard Knocks

It is my current hope to go to graduate school for English literature next year: a certain school in a certain place, both a goal and an insurmountable challenge. Having been out of college for a year already, and having graduated as a music major, I am rusty. Trying to compensate, I googled “books every english major has read” but have had a difficult time finding a list that suggests what every (generalized) English major should have read by the time of (undergraduate) graduation. As a person who attended a high school whose meager syllabus prescribed the study of one novel, one play and four poems a year, and who could only scrape enough college literature credits for a minor, I feel woefully behind. Most American kids got a head start in AP English (seriously – who are those freaks who read Ulysses in high school?). American high schools may have their weaknesses, but a strong and ambitious push to read literature consistently is not one of them. There are gaps, and I fear that wh...

Natural Love

We sadly miss the beauty and silliness of medieval cosmology: “The sun, moon, and stars go still round…for love of perfection. This love is manifest, I say, in inanimate creatures. How comes a loadstone to drawn iron to it? jet chaff? The ground to covet showers, but for love? No creature, St. Hierome concludes, is to be found…[that does not love something], no stock, no stone, that hath not some feeling of love. ‘Tis more eminent in plants, herbs, and is especially observed in vegetals…the olive and the myrtle embrace each other in roots and branches if they grow near…” Robert Burton, Anatomy of Melancholy .

Once on this island

Island literature is so wonderfully stagey. Like the murder in the English village, the island is a self-contained playground for certain fantasies to run wild, and for certain conceits to be explored. I wonder who first discovered the island as the fertile ground to explore themes of civilization and degeneration? For characters to perform as a microcosm (a word I learned when reading Lord of the Flies ) for society. I traced my way to The Island of Dr. Moreau backwards: from LOST , to Bioy Casares’ Invention of Morel , to a lecture on mad doctors and vivisection (from which I learned the term apophane , or, cutting the vocal chords of an animal so that the vivisector will not be bothered by the sounds of pain by the subject under the knife), to a Penguin Classic picked up in George’s best used bookstore. It was an unnerving and unsafe read: chanting beast-people and scientists with questionable ethics are the only companions this narrator can expect to have on a mysterious island af...