The Nice and the Good

The original text seems a bit unclear. However, here is an attempt to rewrite and expand it:

The object in question appears rather clumsy when compared to the sleek and elegant bell. Yet, despite its ungainly appearance, it has a certain charm that is quite absorbing. One might initially overlook it due to its lack of visual appeal, but upon closer inspection, there are details and qualities that draw the eye. It may not possess the grace and beauty of the bell, but it compensates with a unique allure that keeps one engaged. Its clumsiness反而 adds to its character, making it stand out in a different way.

Please note that the expansion is based on the assumption that the text is about comparing an object to a bell and highlighting its unexpected absorbing quality despite being clumsy. If the original context was different, the rewritten text may need to be adjusted accordingly.

Metaphysical Animals: How Four Women Brought Philosophy Back to Life by Clare Mac Cumhaill and Rachael Wiseman piqued my interest and led me back to the writings of those remarkable women. In particular, it directed my attention to Philippa Foot’s virtue ethics. Pip herself is said to have inspired a character in this novel by her best friend Iris Murdoch, which made it a must-read for me.

The story is set in Dorset and Westminster, presenting a charming household by the sea presided over by Kate and her husband Octavian, a senior civil servant with private means. Their household consists of Paula, a divorced mother inspired by Philippa (despite Philippa being childless) and the mother of delightful nine-year-old twins. There’s also Mary, a widow whose sixteen-year-old son is deeply infatuated with Kate’s daughter Barbara, who is home from her Swiss boarding school on holiday.

A rather unappealingly named member of Octavian’s staff, Radeechy, had the misfortune to blow out his brains at his desk, which led to our principal character, John Ducane, being seconded to clean up the mess, so to speak. Ducane is a lawyer who doesn’t practice and an amateur scholar of ancient Roman law. He is involved in a relationship with Kate that hovers somewhere between a flirtation and an affair, further complicated by his attachment to someone who is both a lover and an ex, named Jessica Bird. (Murdoch’s penchant for giving her characters somewhat frivolous names is evident here, as I still vividly remember Georgie Hand from A Severed Head.)

Kate’s involvement with Ducane is relatively straightforward – she tells Octavian everything when they’re in bed together. However, John’s situation is far messier; he hasn’t quite gotten around to telling Jessica and Kate about each other. Readers of Murdoch often comment on her detailed portrayal of minor characters, a Dickensian trait that her admirers relish but that I find a bit tiresome.

In the end, we witness a kaleidoscopic rearrangement of the relationships, reminiscent of Shakespeare’s late romances. I couldn’t help but wonder if the character of Paula’s ex was based on Michael Foot (he’s also a former war-time commando). Although the denouement is typical of a comic romance, the story is essentially a philosophical tale, as the title implies. Ducane starts off as a well-intentioned but somewhat fastidious person, and his lack of complete integrity leads to complex and compromising situations. This also causes him to metaphorically and literally descend into the underworld twice: first with a blackmailer and again with Pierce. The latter descent serves as a symbol of ritual rebirth and cleansing. Morally, the book is excellent, but artistically, it’s a bit too elaborate for my personal taste.

Book Review “The Nice and the Good” –

A slow-motion reel of an exotic caterpillar

“On that particular day the order was as follows. Mary was sitting next to Uncle Theo who was sitting next to Edward who was sitting next to Pierce who was sitting next to Kate who was sitting next to Henrietta who was sitting next to Octavian who was sitting next to Paula who was sitting next to Barbara who was sitting next to Ducane who was sitting next to Mary.” Chapter 12

Iris Murdoch’s 1968 The Nice and the Good is a complex and often disorienting work. It is a literary porridge that combines elements of different genres in a way that can be both confusing and captivating. At times, the novel reaches pockets of exquisite melancholy, but these moments are quickly overshadowed by the author’s self-indulgent writing style. The pacing is slow, and the narrative lacks a clear structure, making it difficult for the reader to follow.

One of the most baffling aspects of the novel is its treatment of love. The characters’ emotional dispositions are often stated matter-of-factly through the omniscient third person, rather than being shown through their actions and interactions. This makes it difficult for the reader to connect with the characters and understand their motives. However, there are some moments when this approach works, such as in the case of Pierce’s demented and destructive passions for Barbara.

The murder of Radeechy adds another layer of mystery to the novel, but the investigation is lackluster and fails to impress. The underground occultist scene is filled with demoniac imagery and rotting animal carcasses, but it does not succeed in creating a sense of horror or evil. The set-up to the mystery thriller is bogged down by bureaucratic exchange, and the characters seem to occupy space and time for no other reason than the author’s refusal to write in media res.

Despite its flaws, The Nice and the Good does have some redeeming moments. Towards the end of the novel, there are some scenes that are both touching and powerful. Willy’s gentleness with Jessica, Ducane’s claustrophobic intensity in the cave, and Jessica’s choosing of which love letter to send are all moments that stand out. The iterative emergence of the hawk-like cuckoo birds and the pristine saffron robes in the Tibetan green valley also add a touch of beauty and mystery to the novel.

In conclusion, The Nice and the Good is a flawed but interesting novel. It is a challenging read that requires patience and a willingness to engage with the author’s unique writing style. While it may not be a masterpiece, it does offer some moments of beauty and insight that make it worth reading.

I very much enjoyed reading this novel.

It has the power to make you wholeheartedly root for many of the protagonists. Their stories are so engaging and relatable that you can't help but cheer them on as they face various challenges and obstacles.

However, I just wished the ending was not so neatly tied up. It felt a bit too perfect and lacked the element of surprise or the bittersweetness that often makes a story more memorable. I would have liked to see a more open-ended conclusion that left some room for interpretation and speculation.

Overall, despite this small criticism, the novel was a great read and I would highly recommend it to others who enjoy well-written and engaging stories.

I recall reading some Murdoch in my teens and not particularly liking it. I've since thought of her as one of those writers I've tried and rejected, which is really not true at all. Of course I didn't like her at seventeen, I was busy making mixed tapes.

So when this filthy, stained copy of The Nice and the Good beckoned to me at the library, I took it home, and now I'm all excited. It was good! Does that mean all her writing is good? Do I have a multitude of good novels left to discover? Is this the beginning of a Murdoch era?

There's a large cast of characters in this novel, and they're all falling in love with each other, having affairs and trying to end them. John Ducane, the main character, is one of those infuriating people who spend all their time mulling over how to be good, instead of just being good. You know, the kind who tries to leave his lover but chickens out because he doesn't want to hurt her poor fragile feelings. So he throws her a mercyfuck and then feels really bad about it. As if your feeling bad somehow makes you a good person, Ducane! It doesn't! Um, yeah, I really hate that kind of condescending reasoning. But Murdoch is so excellent a writer that she makes Ducane more nuanced than that, and in the end I found him fairly sympathetic.

Oh, and she also weaves in a plot about a suicide at the ministry where Ducane works. Turns out the poor guy had been enjoying satanic rituals in the basement involving naked girls and dead pigeons, and now Ducane has to clean up his mess. Yup, dark rites in the midst of all the lovey-dovey and sexy times, and it works really well.

Now, there's a lot more to the book than that. The relationships between the characters are complex and full of emotional turmoil. The moral and philosophical dilemmas they face are thought-provoking. I'm still a little embarrassed over this late discovery, but I'm also excited to see what else Murdoch has to offer. I'll go see what to read next and continue my exploration of her works.

This book unfortunately falls short in several aspects.

The prose-to-dialogue ratio is simply too heavy, making the reading experience feel rather cumbersome.

Moreover, the characters are such that they are extremely difficult to like.

As a result, the book fails to fulfill its promised meditations on the crucial difference between being nice and being good.

In fact, it seems that none of the people within the pages of this book can be bothered to be either nice or good, nor do they manage to be particularly interesting in the midst of this overall failure.

It's a real pity that what could have been a thought-provoking exploration turns out to be a rather lackluster and unengaging read.

Perhaps with a better balance of prose and dialogue, and more likable and complex characters, the book might have been able to achieve its intended goals and offer readers a more fulfilling and enlightening experience.

I absolutely LOVEDDDD this book. The writing was so beautifully crafted that it immediately drew me in. I am now eager to read more books by this extremely talented author. I consider myself very lucky to have come across this book by chance. Once I started reading, I became completely obsessed with the world that the author had created. There were so many rich and vivid characters, each with their own beautiful beginnings, middles, and ends. It was truly a captivating and enchanting read. LOVEEEE!!!!

Iris Murdoch's eleventh novel commences with a startling event: civil servant Joseph Radeechy shoots himself at the office, leaving Octavian Gray and Richard Biranne to handle the consequences. This incident postpones Octavian's departure for the idyllic Dorset, where he and his wife Kate live in a community with various individuals. There's Mary Clothier and her son Pierce, Biranne's ex, Paula, and their twins, and the Grays' daughter, Barbara, when she's home from her Swiss boarding school. I adored the initial introduction to this household filled with such lively activity, the witty exchanges of children and servants, and the memorable dog and cat. It's a sweltering summer, with games and outings to the rocky beach and an abandoned graveyard.

Gradually, the focus shifts to John Ducane, the legal advisor to Octavian's department and a would-be judge. Like the narrator of A Severed Head, he's just ending an affair with a younger woman and has decided he's in love with Kate, sharing occasional kisses with her. Octavian is fully aware of this and finds it rather amusing. I envisioned him and Kate as the Oberon and Titania of their enchanting pastoral world, ruling over the romantic entanglements of the other mortals in a lordly yet playful manner. As in A Severed Head, it seems everyone is infatuated with one another in different ways and at different times. A distinction is often made between loving and being in love, as the two don't always coexist.
Ducane assists the department in looking into Radeechy's death, hoping to avoid a public enquiry. It appears the man was involved in some strange activities, perhaps witchcraft with prostitutes, and was being blackmailed for it. However, the divide between the city and the country is distinct, and so the investigation never overshadows the more subdued interpersonal intrigues in Dorset. There are numerous important secondary characters in this ensemble cast, so many that I had difficulty paying attention to all of them. Among these, I'll give a special mention to Holocaust survivor Willy Kost. Fortunately, there's a much more positive portrayal of Judaism here than in A Severed Head or The Italian Girl.
I particularly noticed and liked the duplicated moments, such as two scenes of women jealously observing other mistresses, the instances of dramatic irony, and the sequences composed mainly of dialogue. There's a thrilling scene where three characters are trapped in a sea cave due to a rising tide, and the book concludes with what seems to be a sighting of a flying saucer. You also have to love the late, touching moment of Montrose the cat and Mingo the dog curling up together in a basket.
I constantly looked back at the title and asked myself who is truly 'good' in this story and what the real value of being 'nice' is. Murdoch pardons Radeechy's peculiar behavior as at most "minor evil," while Willy's experience in Dachau is surely the clearest example of human evil in action. There are also brief mentions of goodness as a state of mind or a matter of personality. The last quote, which is a peek into Kate's thoughts, is so unrealistically optimistic that you have to wonder if Murdoch is making fun of her. And yet, Kate is one of the most stable and contented characters.
This novel falls somewhere in the middle for me in terms of how much I've enjoyed Murdoch's works. There's a great deal happening, perhaps too much, and the reader's sympathy is spread thin among so many characters. Still, it's a summery, light-hearted read that manages to hint at deeper ethical questions.