The Book and the Brotherhood

The text appears to be a rather negative assessment of something, perhaps a book or a story. It complains that it is too long, filled with poorly differentiated characters, and lacks any real action or events. The character Crimond is described as not recognisably human, and the mention of Marxism suggests that there may be some complex ideological or political elements that the reader is not familiar with. The references to a car crash and a gun game seem out of place and weird, and the ending is criticised as being messy. However, the writer does add a caveat, suggesting that they may need to read it several more times to fully understand and appreciate it. Overall, the text gives the impression that the writer had high expectations that were not met, but perhaps with further study, they may come to a different conclusion.

It would be interesting to know more about what exactly the writer was referring to, as this would help to put their comments into context. Was it a work of fiction or non-fiction? Was it a classic or a contemporary piece? Without this information, it is difficult to fully evaluate the validity of the writer's criticisms.

This was the very first Iris Murdoch book that came into my hands. I vividly remember purchasing it in an airport in the UK approximately 20 years ago. From the moment I started reading, it completely blew me away, and to this day, it remains my absolute favorite among all her works. It is the quintessential Murdoch, characterized by a unique blend of long, meandering interior monologues. In these monologues, wealthy white Londoners meticulously dissect their every interaction, examining it from every conceivable angle and attributing profound meaning to each and every word.

Overlaying these introspections are actions, often carried out in secret, which subtly alter the relationships among the core group of friends who form the cast of characters. These actions are frequently unmediated, violent, and deliberately designed to "shake up" the established order of things.

In summary, the plot centers around a group of friends who attended Oxford together many years ago and are now in their 50s. They commissioned one of their own to write a book that reflects their radical ideologies. However, as time passes, their radical viewpoints gradually mellow, and they begin to have doubts about supporting the completion of the book. That's just the surface level. The real drama unfolds between the characters - the group of friends, their families, and their mentor/professor from Oxford. The balance among the characters constantly shifts as individuals take extreme actions: one person abandons their spouse to resume an affair, another initiates a one-night stand, and yet another enters into a suicide pact. One member of their group is killed, and all of them blame themselves for vastly different reasons.

This book delves deep into the profound questions of what it means to be a family, what it truly means to "love" someone, and what a meaningful life looks like. Perhaps its most powerful theme is how each person remakes the world with themselves at the center of action - the same events are interpreted differently by each character, analyzed in a way that aligns with their own world view.

This is truly a masterwork and one of my all-time favorite books. Re-reading it, I am once again astonished that it did not win the Booker Prize. It is alternately funny, introspective, and deeply touching. Murdoch was a philosopher, and while she seems to delight in placing her characters in uncomfortable situations to observe their squirming, she also appears to have a great deal of affection for them.

This was the sixth and final time that Murdoch was short-listed for the Booker Prize. I cannot but help thinking that if she were not so prolific, and if her novels were not so regularly set among philosophising intellectuals, she would have taken home the award more often.

The sea, the sea was her only winner; The Black Prince, in my view, should have been. The Book and the Brotherhood is as great an achievement as any, but its author had the bad luck - if she cared about such accolades - to come up against two other wonderful contenders, Penelope Lively's Moon Tiger - the judges' choice, and Anthills of the Savannah by Chinua Achebe, as good an account of post-colonial Africa as I know. I'd be a rotten judge, unable to decide between the three.

Talking of luck, fate or coincidence, Murdoch plays around here with the choices that people make and the huge consequences of minor decisions. A concatenation of events leads to every character feeling responsible for the death of a colleague; in another case, it's a snail that a character picks up at a railway station, that leads to a profound change in his life.

Central to the plot is the figure of David Crimond, a Marxist thinker whom others commissioned to write a great treatise, whose ideas they have since moved away from, but whose idealism they still pine for.

“We’ve lost a lot of confidence since (radical youth). Our heroes, dissidents who fight tyrannies and die in prisons, are enabled by history to be soldiers for truth. We are not.. The least we can do is try to think about our society and what’s going to happen to it,” says Jenkin, one of the group.

Unlike in earlier Murdoch tracts, there is relatively little examination of philosophical ideas such as might have formed the core of Crimond's new ideology. It remains unexplored, as Crimond himself remains a shadowy figure whose improbable behaviour suggests derangement or some deeper complex only to be guessed at.

"He doesn't think people are real," says one observer. He's a fanatic, the descendant of Calvinists expectant of instant destruction or salvation, is another theory. That's the closest we get to him.

So this is not a book of philosophy, although typically enough it is peopled by philosophes who can stay up half the night arguing not about personal matters, but about the reasons for the success of Christianity in the 4th Century.

What Murdoch does brilliantly, like a spinner of a multitude of plates, is deal with how others react to the iconic, enigmatic Crimond, examining at every, constantly surprising turn, the misapprehensions of each character about the thinking of his or her fellows.

All 21 figures are introduced in a dazzling first seven pages, that make the head reel as if the reader were also involved in the swirling half-drunken waltz of the college summer ball. It's worth noting who's who at that early stage, for after that the narrative moves like a train for 600 pages.

There's only the occasional pause, such as four pages entirely given to a virtuoso description of a grey parrot. But mainly this is a thriller driven by psychology, and Murdoch's extraordinary inventiveness.

So what of its pre-occupation with the Big Idea, the treatise that was going to change the world? It lies eventually to Lily, the simplest, least educated of the whole gang, to find a modest happiness through compromise. By chance. It is like the stone that her friend recalled had been chosen from among the millions on a beach. “How accidental everything was, and how spirit was scattered everywhere, beautiful, and awful.”

I truly have a profound love for Murdoch's writing style. There were indeed several outstanding aspects within this novel.

The way she crafts dialogue is simply captivating and highly entertaining. It has the power to draw the reader in and make them feel as if they are right there in the midst of the characters' conversations.

However, the sheer length of 600 pages proved to be a bit of a tiresome endeavor. Towards the end, I found myself laboring through the text.

All too frequently, the book would zero in on the tiniest details of the characters' thoughts and feelings. While this might not necessarily be an issue for some, for me, it was compounded by the fact that I simply didn't have any genuine interest in any of the characters.

As a result, the overall reading experience, despite the initial allure of Murdoch's writing, became somewhat of a struggle.

Nevertheless, I still recognize the talent and skill that went into creating this novel, even if it didn't fully resonate with me on a personal level.

Maravilloso.

It's truly a wonderful piece of work. I'm not sure if I should recommend it or not. The reason is that Iris Murdoch is a very... "special" writer and not everyone likes her.

However, this novel is so beautiful. It reflects the passage of time and the change of ideals so well. The die-hard fans of Murdoch might perhaps miss the "magic - paranormal" component in this novel (which is very very very anecdotal). But truly, it is the best book of the author that I have read so far.

The "posh" people from a college in Oxford stepping out of their bubble, with philosophy, politics, passion, cross-couplings, unconventional sexuality, parrots, snails, ghost foxes, Scots who are like Shiva... Everything has a place in this precious story of what happens to people when they are in their forties or fifties and must accept that their life is not what they thought it would be at twenty.

Those who hate philosophy and political theory might be better off abstaining.

The Book and the Brotherhood offers a rich tapestry of political and social intrigue, suitable for the discerning philosopher. With approximately twenty main characters, I initially struggled to keep track of the Gullivers, Gideons, Gerards, Jenkins, Crimonds, and Duncans. So, I created a chart to assist my memory of their entanglements.

Irish Murdoch's prose is delightfully wicked and consistently beautiful throughout the 600-page narrative. Despite the similarity in names, the characters are distinct. As I read the second half, I even imagined a hypothetical movie casting, with Colin Firth as Crimmond, Paul Giamatti as Gulliver, and Sally Hawkins as Lily.

It's remarkable how well the characters know one another and themselves. However, my main gripe is that each character spends an excessive amount of time obsessing over their feelings and actions. At times, it can take a hundred pages for any significant action (usually in the form of two characters analyzing a third) to unfold. I also discovered that this dense novel is best consumed in small doses, less than 100 pages at a time. This means that sometimes I would sit down to read and be inundated with pages of characters neurotically psychoanalyzing their friends. But when it's as exquisitely written, suspenseful, and humorous as Murdoch's psychobabble, I'm more than willing to savor it.

Their voices are unique yet still carry Murdoch's own voice and words, making it hard to fault the abundance of it. Especially when it results in each and every character being well-rounded and comprehensible to the reader. Nevertheless, after hundreds of pages of psychological tension building, I craved more than just talk to conclude the story.

The 23rd novel by Iris Murdoch, and thus the 23rd book of the Murdoch a month Challenge that a small group of us have embarked upon. However, as the books have become quite substantial, we are now reading them every other month. This particular one, with around 600 pages, is rather hefty.

The story commences with a party at an Oxford college. A group of friends, many of whom were former students of that college, are in attendance. On that evening, the past and the present seem to converge, and the characters as well as the reader feel the consequences throughout the remainder of the book. There is a rather poignant and yet wonderful segment about a parrot, and a truly remarkable part about a snail. Partners shift - as is often the case in a Murdoch novel, someone passes away, and a book is written.

I found this to be an extremely enjoyable read, quite captivating, filled with the typical Murdoch themes and complex philosophical musings.

I won't disclose too much more here - as I don't think my Murdocian friends have begun this one yet. I only went ahead and started it a week early : )

A complex book that I had difficulty getting into at first. It's like arriving at a party already in full swing, or a dinner where everyone is already savoring the dessert.

Gradually, you immerse yourself in the life of each character. The complexity of each one is reflected through the internal dialogues revealed by an omniscient narrator who lays out for you the demons of the Oxford bourgeoisie. You don't know the age of any character nor the real time in which the novel takes place. Only maturity and decline peek through, where life is simply all the bad things we could have avoided.

Poor and rich relatives. The anger and resentment that condenses failure. Emotions like guilt within the particular ethical framework of each character are other strengths of this book. Of course, I almost forgot: you enter into the philosophy that blossoms like a spring garden.

There are several climax moments and unexpected twists that make you unable to tear yourself away from the novel. It took me two weeks to finish it, and I think it was worth it. I gave it five stars because these two concise paragraphs don't do justice to all the material of deep reflection that it offers, not to mention the fictional theatrical framework with which Murdoch constructs this narrative. Where is love? What is it? Friendship, affection, all themes that I like and that surely Iris Murdoch thought were really worth considering when conceiving this masterpiece.