This is truly one of the most perplexing reads I've ever encountered. It's either one of the smartest dumb books or one of the dumbest smart books.

On one hand, this is my third time reading Murdoch, and with each read, I've become more attuned to her faults, foibles, fancies, and phantasmagoria. The story is filled with sex, violence, death-defying adventure, and a touch of Sunday morning philosophy, which, while it may seem a bit much, manages to keep the reader engaged.

On the other hand, Murdoch's portrayal of women can be laughable at times, and her tropes are some of the cheapest things out there. However, she doesn't overuse them to the point of annoyance, which makes for a somewhat enjoyable read.

The plot involves an obscenely wealthy couple who have a penchant for adopting disenfranchised waifs, resulting in a rather incestuous and overeducated orgy. Add to that the suicide of a white dude who'd rather resort to "black magic" than face his sexuality, and you have a recipe for a wild and crazy ride.

Despite all its flaws, I found myself enjoying this book more than I expected. Maybe it's because I was in the right frame of mind, or maybe it's because Murdoch has a certain charm that keeps drawing me in. Either way, I'm not sure if this is a book that everyone would enjoy.

If you're looking for a serious work of literature, this probably isn't it. But if you're in the mood for a bit of mindless entertainment that still manages to make you think, then you might give this book a try. Just don't expect too much, and you might be pleasantly surprised.

I just don't know what it is with Iris Murdoch novels. It's truly baffling. I simply can't tell them apart. And I can't explain why. She's an incredibly smart woman and writes beautifully. I like her a great deal, and I've read most of her books. I've got a good memory, and I can usually do this kind of thing with ease. For example, I generally find it quite easy to say which Bond film a given incident belongs to. But when it comes to Iris Murdoch? Sorry, it's a different story.

It's not just me either. I recall this incident at a party in Manchester, some time in the winter of 1977. I'd just gone through a phase of reading a lot of Murdoch, so it was all fresh in my memory. I was talking to this girl that I'd just met and rather liked. She seemed to like me too. She'd also read a lot of Murdoch. We had every reason to use our memories of Murdoch novels to deepen our new friendship.

And yet... neither of us could remember a damn thing about them. "Have you read The Nice and the Good?" I asked, or whichever novel it was. "Oh, is that the one with the blackmailer?" she replied. Damn! I couldn't remember. And neither could she. We tried several times, and it was always the same. We felt like complete idiots, and our relationship was over before it had even started.

But, don't get me wrong. I'm not blaming Iris. It's my fault, not hers. I guess there's just something about her novels that eludes my memory. Maybe it's their complexity or the way she weaves her stories. I don't know. But I do know that I'll keep reading her books, hoping that one day, it will all click.

This is not the first book I have read by Iris Murdoch. Her insistence on clarifying the upper class, the nuances of their quality of life, and the precise way in which she discards are key elements that are clear from the beginning in her ideas.

The characters in this book, under the pretext of a supposed suicide, face numerous events regarding existence itself, power, and the quality of the family. There are divorced parents, modern marriages where monogamy is anything but transcendent, children with a less compliant intellect who fall into a way of seeing the world between fantasy and unfinished reality.

It is remarkable the inclusion of two male characters, one a hermit and the other a quiet but eloquent homosexual.

I do not consider this the best thing I have read by the author, but without a doubt, it has all the elements that characterize her: an engaging narrative, intellectual, sometimes cerebral, and subordinate dialogues. I give it four stars for the unexpected ending that seems hopeful.

I completely agree that this is an extremely hard book to review, or even to explain. There is an abundance of things happening within its pages, and the connections are so numerous and contingent. As Liz and Peter have pointed out, it's as if Murdoch aimed to write the polar opposite of The Time of the Angels; something that is expansive, airy, and outgoing.

The story of Ducane's attempt to unravel the mystery of Radeechy was told in a brilliantly captivating way. I could have very happily read an entire novel that was solely dedicated to this particular aspect.

Once again, I had great difficulty in making sense of the philosophical elements present in the book and found myself unconsciously skimming through those passages. Perhaps I was just too impatient to get back on the trail of the mysterious 'Helen of Troy' and Radeechy's strange rituals.

Moreover, while in The Time of the Angels, the appearance of Marcus and/or Carel signaled the need to buckle up for a mini-treatise, the philosophical inquiries here were much more scattered and dispersed.

I am concerned that I am not giving sufficient attention to this crucial element of Murdoch's fiction. Maybe I should seek out some primer or introductory material before delving further into her non-fiction works. This would perhaps help me to better understand and appreciate the philosophical underpinnings of her novels and enhance my overall reading experience.

I truly adored the dialogue present in all the mating scenes or rituals of love. It had a certain charm that felt completely natural and not at all like something out of a typical Murdoch story. It was a rather 'nice' contrast indeed.

As always, there were some fabulously engaging scenes. The violence that occurred on the billiard table added an element of excitement and unpredictability. The cave scene was also quite captivating, perhaps hinting at some hidden secrets or a sense of mystery. And then there was the moment of touching the painting, which seemed to hold a certain significance.

The statement "A love of form is a love of endings increased to any love is a love of death" makes one ponder deeply. It suggests that there is a connection between our appreciation for structure and form and our acceptance of the inevitable endings in life, and perhaps even a deeper connection to the concept of death. It makes us question the nature of our loves and how they are intertwined with the cycle of life and death.

Overall, these elements combined to create a story that was both engaging and thought-provoking.

By far my favorite from the inaugural Booker Award short list in 1969.

The theme of love explored in this novel is truly captivating. It is presented in various forms, which makes for some very interesting reading. We see different aspects of love, such as romantic love, platonic love, and the love between family members. The author does an excellent job of depicting these relationships and showing how love can have a profound impact on people's lives.

In addition to the main theme of love, the subplot involving the co-worker and his secret, ritualistic double-life was also an intriguing story line. It added an element of mystery and suspense to the novel, and definitely kept my attention. The co-worker's actions and motives were complex and fascinating, and I found myself constantly trying to figure out what was going on.

Overall, this is a well-written story by an accomplished author. The characters are well-developed, the plot is engaging, and the writing style is优美. It is a novel that I would highly recommend to anyone who enjoys reading about love, relationships, and the human condition.

I have always had the perception that I like Iris Murdoch's writing. However, when I actually delved into one of her books, I found myself really struggling.

The world she portrays seems rather rarified, and I have a hard time truly engaging with it. Moreover, I find it extremely difficult to determine whether her narrative is genuine or ironic.

I recall an old movie where a dissatisfactory boyfriend reads Iris Murdoch to his partner in bed. At that time, I didn't understand the significance, but now I suspect it might imply that he is sexist.

As remarkable as the quality of her writing is - it is clear, evocative, and clever - I do find her characters and their behaviors oddly sexist. She might be creating them in such a way to critique them, but since I can't figure out if she is being serious or not, they tend to irritate me.

I did like the sequence set in the cave as it had a much more physical and visceral feel compared to the rest of the story.

I did persevere and read the book until the end, hoping that I would grow to like it more, but unfortunately, that wasn't the case. I did enjoy it more than "The Sea, The Sea" which I read previously, as this one felt more plot-driven. But generally speaking, I think Iris Murdoch's works are just not to my taste.

After reading this book and skimming through a couple of old reviews for other Murdoch works, I can truly and honestly say that she is indeed one of the finest character builders that I am acquainted with.

Forget about the plot for a moment! What truly fascinates me are the little idiosyncrasies, the minute details, the small twerks if you will, that make her books into personal reveries upon humanity.

It's as if she peels back the layers of her characters with the utmost delicacy, revealing their deepest desires, fears, and insecurities.

Her ability to create such complex and multi-dimensional characters is truly remarkable.

Each character seems to leap off the page, fully formed and alive.

And it is through these characters that she explores the human condition in all its glory and complexity.

A more in-depth review will surely follow, as there is so much more to discover and analyze in her works.

But for now, I am simply in awe of her talent as a character builder.

I really had a great time with my previous two attempts to explore the works of Iris Murdoch. However, this particular one just didn't click with me at all.

In a very short span of time, a rather confusing number of characters are introduced one after another. None of them seemed immediately likable or especially interesting. In fact, most of them were actively irritating.

Perhaps I just wasn't in the right frame of mind or mood when I picked up this book. But I still think that I might give it another try at some point in the future. After all, my previous experiences with Murdoch's works were so enjoyable that I'm willing to give this one the benefit of the doubt and see if I can have a different perspective on it the next time around.

Like Graham Greene, Murdoch is among those deceased authors. Every time I pick up one of their books, I'm filled with a sense of sadness because the excitement of discovery has been diminished.

Although one can read a book again, the initial wonder can never be recaptured. Murdoch's story begins with a strange and violent death at a government office. She then follows a trail that is less about solving the mystery itself and more about examining the life of the man assigned to solve it.

The narrative is intricate and fascinating, like a dark sea cave that I swam into. The turbulence and undertows within make it extremely difficult to determine whether the encounters one has, in thought or deed, are nice or good. It's a complex exploration that keeps the reader engaged and constantly questioning.

Murdoch's ability to create such a captivating and thought-provoking story is truly remarkable, and it's a pity that we can no longer experience the thrill of a new discovery from her pen.

Maybe something like a 3.5?

I truly loved the style of this book. It was very well written. I usually have a penchant for more explosive or spontaneous prose. However, this one was extremely meticulous and immaculate. In any case, it was well-written with a very rich literary style. Perhaps it was even too good for today's literary tendencies. I felt a great sense of happiness while reading something with such a nice style.

For the first 100 pages, I had no clue what the story was about, and yet I loved it. The book seemed to have as its main plot line an exploration of the relationships between the characters. It was truly superb.

Then the book centered around one of the characters and became much more like a "suspense/police novel". Having said that, this setting seemed to only serve as a means to explore the characters and develop a philosophical viewpoint. Therefore, I liked it. (I usually get bored reading thrillers that only seek thrills and end up being predictable or less predictable.) It reminded me of the police novels of Friedrich Dürenmatt in this regard. The supernatural side mixed with the setting of casual life also reminded me of Huysmans' Là-bas. The exploration of the individuals' thoughts and feelings as the main driver of the non-story plotline made me think, "This is like Virginia Woolf if Virginia Woolf were good." (Yes, I find Virginia Woolf horribly boring, though I liked this novel a lot.)

Around the end, it refocused on everyone a little, but the ending did feel a bit botched. Maybe it was also a bit too post-modern in some aspects, or perhaps I just failed to understand a couple of characters, or maybe the English are just strange. In any case, I felt like the author was in a rush to finish the novel, and yet the novel did need to finish. It just felt a bit off.

This is the second Murdoch novel that I've read.

And I was deeply disappointed, especially when considering how much I loved The Bell.

In this novel, I felt that there was very little plot. It seemed rather thin and lacking in substance.

Moreover, there were far too many characters. It was almost impossible to make any sense of it all.

The situations that these characters found themselves in were so overly melodramatic that it made the whole story feel uninteresting.

In my opinion, when compared to The Bell, Murdoch's writing here is just not appealing at all.

I'm aware that a lot of people really enjoyed this text. So perhaps I'm just being too harsh in my assessment.

But truth be told, I was extremely let down by this book.

It just didn't live up to my expectations based on my experience with The Bell.

Maybe I'll give Murdoch another chance with her other works, but for now, this particular novel has left a sour taste in my mouth.