I quite enjoyed this one.

However, my exhausted state of mind meant that I should have waited to read it when I was more relaxed and better able to concentrate. It was simply too heavy for my tired brain. As a result, it took me a while to get into it.

Surprisingly, after the first 70 or 80 pages, the story really took off. The middle part of the novel is fast-paced and truly hard to put down. Nevertheless, the novel might be a bit on the long side.

The story revolves around a group of people connected to Lucas Graffe and an act of violence that leads to a desire for revenge. There's Clemment, Lucas's brother who loves him and has been worried about him after his brief disappearance. Their friend Bellemy James is considering a monastic life. Then there's Louise Anderson and her three daughters at Clifton house, outside of which a man had been seen watching.

The Green Knight is a suspenseful novel that explores, among other things, guilt and innocence. Oh, and there's a marvelous dog called Anax, who is my favorite character.

Overall, despite its initial challenges due to my mental state, I found this novel to be an engaging read with a captivating story and interesting characters.

Oh, this was truly a fascinating and yet frustrating book.

At the beginning, it bore a remarkable resemblance to the works of A.S. Byatt - erudite, complex, and populated with a wide cast of characters.

However, about one-third of the way through, the intellectual content seemed to plateau, failing to offer anything truly new. This led to my growing frustration with all of the characters.

I was particularly irritated by the fact that none of them seemed to have any real work. With the exception of the aberrant character of Lukas, no one actually engaged in any meaningful work, not even those who ostensibly had jobs.

Sefton, for example, studied, but we only learned about it when it could serve as a metaphor for the strange little social drama unfolding.

In the final third of the book, the pace picked up, and I found myself becoming interested once again.

Nonetheless, I was still left feeling frustrated by the ending - pairing everyone off and presenting a so-called "Happy Endings"? What?

It seemed rather simplistic and unconvincing after the complexity and depth that had been explored earlier in the book.

Overall, while there were aspects of the book that were engaging and thought-provoking, the flaws in its structure and character development ultimately detracted from the overall reading experience.

‘Glastonbury Romance’ by Powys is being read by a character. One of the characters desires to become a monk and pen letters to a confessor. In these letters, he contends that Christ did not megalomaniacally claim to be God himself, as he asserts, despite the fact that the lying gospellers retroactively do make such a claim. He further states that there is no evidence for a resurrection and hardly could be, as the Jews and Romans would have scoffed at the preposterous idea. Paul, he continues, invented the whole thing. Faith in Christ, he argues, does not rely on historical evidence but on the living Christ whose reality we experience. However, one might say, "Speak for yourself." The author has a fixation on Christ and the ontological proof of God, and this febrile character expresses it, stating, "there is no god but what I am feeling now is what god is."

At one point, the narrator himself consulted a Jesuit priest. It is an aspect of the youthful search for identity, shopping around to see what suits. This particular character takes on too much, blaming himself for another's accident as if he were God. Murdoch doesn't believe in accidents. His mother remarks that the character who had the accident smashed himself up accidentally on purpose, much to his regret. Eventually, he does think there was purpose behind it and no accident. If it was his purpose, it was unconscious. If not, it was unconscious anyway. Murdoch believes in the unconscious, although she can't quite figure it out. She has her erroneous theories, one of which is exemplified by a character thinking another has consciously switched off consciousness as if it had control of manifesting the unconscious.

With the statement, "you don't want to explain the world, you want to change it," Murdoch invokes Marx. The saying, "No sexuality, no spirit," is actually the other way around: no spirit, no sexuality. The quote, "Ça revient au meme de s’enivrer solitairement ou de conduire les peuples," is by Sartre. The identity of the green knight is evident from his green attire, even a green girdle is involved. The narrator initially didn't realize he was involved in the fracas between two "brother" characters. Eventually, it dawned on him that the title referred to an old poem. If the green knight is the character whose name means world peace and rooms in a pub called The Castle, then one of the "brothers" has to be Sir Gawain, neither of which seems a likely candidate. She does follow the poem's plot fairly closely, for example, "He doesn't want my money, he wants my head," and through a brother character, she analyzes how close and where divergent.

The false god punishes, the true god slays, which is from Elijah. "As the hart panteth over the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee" is from Psalm 42. The author doesn't make a misstep until the sex scene. The two characters involved seem pompous, in the narrator's opinion, and the whole thing is psychologically implausible. It reminds the narrator of a similar experience when Billy Macbrayne came to his room after having a bath, wanting sex. The narrator obligingly set about it until Billy winced and said he might have a broken leg. The narrator considered the possibility of continuing while intricately avoiding hurting the leg, but Billy was making it unnecessarily difficult, so he desisted and advised Billy to see a doctor. There might have been some pomposity in the way the narrator said that, but the scene was real because it was unconsciously directed in life, whereas the scene in the novel was imagined by an unconscious filtered through the one consciousness. From a subsequent scene, the narrator thinks the author was deliberately and to her artistic credit making the first one false-seeming. The narrator's experience in life isn't directly comparable since, being male, he could have proceeded regardless of Billy's capability, whereas the female character in the novel couldn't. Like the scene in the book, however, that in life wasn't meant to succeed.

Murdoch believes in chance, exemplifying its "vast play...in human life" by a character's not sighting a dog whose capture by another character alters "the fates of a number of people in this story." Or maybe she doesn't since she's the author of her characters' "fates." She certainly seems to be using "dog" as a mirroring of "god," at least to readers of English, because the well-characterized dog proves to have a most responsive soul, acting along Augustine's line of "ama et fac quod vis," love and do what you want. She believes in love, and a whole section is devoted to Eros. She has a page of dialogue without the need to say who's talking. When she says, "Cora covered her face," she doesn't need to say any more. "Everything deep loves a mask" is from Nietzsche. "Numeros memini si verba tenerent" is from Virgil. "Not to have been born is best," is from Sophocles and the narrator himself, from a school magazine.

Maybe every human creature carries some such inescapable burden.

This burden is an inherent part of being human, a very weird affair indeed.

We are born into this world with certain expectations, responsibilities, and challenges that we must face.

Some of these burdens are physical, such as illness or disability.

Others are emotional, like grief, anxiety, or depression.

And still others are social, such as the pressure to conform, to succeed, or to fit in.

Despite the weight of these burdens, we continue to strive, to persevere, and to find meaning and purpose in our lives.

We learn to adapt, to grow, and to help others who are also carrying their own inescapable burdens.

For in the end, it is through our shared humanity and our ability to bear these burdens together that we find true strength and resilience.

To some extent, this book truly perplexed me.

My initial motivation for reading it was simply because it was penned by Iris Murdoch, and I was filled with curiosity about her work. As I perused the inside front cover, I discovered that aside from her stints at Oxford and later Cambridge, where she taught philosophy for numerous years, she was also an accomplished author with a wide range of books across different genres.

The early pages managed to catch my interest swiftly, although I didn't fully grasp what was unfolding. Nevertheless, I resolved to forge ahead. By the time I thought I had gained an understanding, the mood suddenly shifted, and a certain darkness was introduced.

Despite my mixed emotions, every time I picked up the book to read, I became so engrossed that I often found myself reading well past the time I had intended to turn out the light and go to sleep. This sense of bemusement persisted, and I couldn't put the book down until I finally reached the last page.

Looking back on my reading adventure, I still don't have a clear understanding of how I truly feel about the book. And yet, each evening's encounter with it seems to belie this. I must have liked it, right? Now, I am eager to find out what other readers have had to say about it and see if there are any "readers guide" type articles available. Perhaps I need someone to explain it to me.

My first encounter with Iris Murdoch's work was an interesting one.

Although the story is set in present-day London, it has a distinct feel of a turn-of-the-century English novel.

The characters within the book are all rather strange, which adds to the overall quirkiness of the plot.

I found the reading experience to be quite engaging, yet it didn't have that certain spark that would inspire me to immediately pick up another of Murdoch's works.

Perhaps it was the eccentricity of the characters or the unique way in which the story unfolded that left me with a somewhat ambivalent feeling.

Nonetheless, it was a worthwhile read that gave me a taste of Murdoch's writing style and her ability to create a world that is both familiar and yet completely different.

Overall, while it may not have been a life-changing read for me, it did leave an impression and made me curious about what else Murdoch has to offer.

My first encounter with Iris Murdoch's work has been truly fascinating.

As I delved into her novel, I was immediately drawn into a world filled with a plethora of characters. Each one is richly developed, with their own set of doubts and idiosyncratic ways. It's as if Murdoch has created a microcosm of society, where every individual's flaws and quirks are on full display.

What makes this novel even more captivating is the hint of "magic" that is interwoven throughout the story. It's not the kind of blatant magic that you might find in a fantasy novel, but rather a more subtle and mysterious kind of magic that adds an extra layer of depth and intrigue to the narrative.

I can't wait to add more of Iris Murdoch's works to my reading queue. I'm eager to explore more of her unique writing style and the complex worlds that she creates. I have a feeling that there are many more literary treasures waiting for me to discover.

Overall, my first experience with Iris Murdoch has been a memorable one, and I'm looking forward to many more reading adventures with her.

Such a beautifully strange book. It is truly a remarkable piece of literature. I found myself completely captivated by the beauty of some of its sections. The way the words were arranged, the descriptions that painted vivid pictures in my mind - it was like a work of art. And the characters! Oh, how I loved how dramatic they all were. Each one felt larger than life, as if they were not just characters in a book but players in a great cosmic opera. Their emotions were so intense, their actions so bold. It made the story come alive in the most wonderful way.

And I have to mention how much I love it when a writer is cultured. It doesn't matter what form that culture takes - whether it's referencing books, shows, plays, or poems that they love. It gives me a sense of connection to the writer, as if we share the same loves and interests. It makes me feel like I love them too! (By the way, this plays into my recent obsession with Virginia Woolf.) I can't help but wonder if the author of this book was also influenced by Woolf's works. There are certain similarities in the way they both explore the human psyche and the relationships between characters.

An observation:
In the process of editing a movie, our aim is to eliminate as much unnecessary action as possible. For instance, consider a scene where a character is walking up a long sidewalk and then enters a house. In traditional editing, we might cut out all that and simply show the character coming in through the front door. This kind of extraneous action is often referred to as "shoe leather." Murdoch's book contains a significant amount of "shoe leather." Surprisingly, Murdock manages to make it work effectively. This has led a motion picture editor to ponder whether this isn't something that could be re-considered in the editing of a movie. Especially after watching Blade Runner 2049, which also has plenty of "shoe leather" that seems to work quite well.

It makes one wonder if there is more to these seemingly unimportant actions than meets the eye. Maybe they can add depth and authenticity to a story. Or perhaps they can create a certain atmosphere or mood. It's an interesting concept that editors should explore further.

Murdoch assembles a diverse group of characters who are both delightful and exasperating, and often enjoyable precisely because of their irritating qualities. She arranges this cast around the flexible framework of the Sir Gawain and the Green Knight story. However, this book not only borrows from the Arthurian tale but also from paintings and other art sources, employing ekphrasis as a storytelling mode. The use of art in the story is not without exploration. For example, one scene reenacts the Leda and the Swan myth as a character is attacked by a swan. Later, Peter Muir, a source of much tension in the novel, intrigued by the story, casually remarks on the similarity of her attack to the myth.

Although I haven't completely figured out Murdoch's reasons for incorporating a dialogue of art into the story, her use of ekphrasis appears to be a worthy aspect to examine. While I'm still untangling the ekphrastic dialogue, I do believe that much of the storytelling prompts us to think about the narrative in terms of art, myth, and artifact. A significant portion of Bellamy's character is disclosed through epistolary passages written to a monk. Reading these, I recall thinking that if only Bellamy would read his own letters, he would better understand his problems and frustrations and cease making such misdirected choices.

Furthermore, the reader is often as much at the mercy of the characters' hasty conclusions, gossip, and the assumptions and fears racing through their minds as the characters themselves. While the characters' thoughts, fears, and imaginings are not precisely examples of art, they do draw parallels to it by generating waves and narratives in the same way art does in this story: creating both elaborate fantasies and truths. It is also interesting to note that the characters most closely associated with art, whether they draw our attention to it or are artists, are also the closest to the magical elements of the story.

The mood of this book is truly remarkable. It is so captivating that I continuously found myself completely forgetting how utterly crazy the plot actually is.

At the beginning, the story got off to a somewhat slow start, which made me wonder if it would be able to hold my interest. However, as I delved deeper into the pages, I became increasingly engrossed.

The ending, on the other hand, was rather abrupt. It felt as if the author suddenly decided to bring the story to a close without fully developing all the loose ends. But despite this, I was still entranced by the overall experience of reading the book.

The unique mood and atmosphere that the author managed to create throughout the story were simply enchanting. It was as if I was transported into a different world, completely immersed in the characters and their adventures.

Overall, I would highly recommend this book to anyone looking for a captivating read that will keep them on the edge of their seat until the very end.

Maybe it deserves three stars.

It presents some interesting ideas, yet it is not written in a way that is truly moving.

The whole thing reminds me of certain Hitchcock movies.

In those movies, all the psychological ideas and drama seem to be too explicit and overacted.

There is a lack of subtlety and nuance that could have made the story more engaging and thought-provoking.

The characters and their actions feel a bit forced, as if they are simply going through the motions to fit the pre-determined plot and themes.

However, despite these flaws, there are still some redeeming qualities.

The basic concept has the potential to be developed into something more profound and impactful with a bit more refinement and a different approach to the writing.

Overall, it is an average piece that shows promise but falls short in several areas.