Back in the 80s, both my wife and I delved into a plethora of Iris Murdoch novels. We truly relished them at that time. However, upon reflection, they weren't precisely the sort of novels that left a lasting imprint on our memories. They all seemed rather similar. Typically, they revolved around several friends, often academics or artists or both, who were brought together by some circumstance. There was usually some element of cheating, love, jealousy, and witty dialogue, and often a tragedy to conclude things. The books that I recall liking the most were The Black Prince, A Fairly Honourable Defeat, and The Bell. The Bell, an early effort, I vaguely remember as my favorite. I couldn't precisely say why, although I do recall it being shorter and more concise, and at that time, I felt that I should explore more of her earlier novels.

Weirdly enough, neither of us read her Booker Prize-winning The Sea, The Sea. It's a remarkable novel, yet a rather lengthy one. It narrates the story (told in the first person) of Charles Arrowby, a recently retired actor and theater director. Arrowby has just purchased a peculiar, somewhat sinister house by the sea. It makes odd noises and creaks at night, has a bizarre windowless red room at its core, and lacks electricity. He has begun to embrace the life of a recluse. He swims every day, prepares simple meals, enjoys the sun, writes down his observations of the sea, and recalls snippets of his life and his former lovers. One day, while gazing at the water, he witnesses a sea serpent, complete with looping black coils and green eyes, emerge from the surface of the sea.

This event is extremely disturbing because it is so tangible and real. Arrowby is at a loss as to what to make of it and is hesitant to mention it. In Murdoch's fictional world, all of these elements (the red room, the sea, the serpent, etc.) are imbued with symbolic meaning (and a great deal of Shakespearean allusions). Nevertheless, there's no need to get overly bogged down as Murdoch is a light-hearted writer who manages to keep you amused while drawing you into something deeper and darker. Arrowby, of course, has an enormous ego, and the serpent is a clear警示 of the man's seething jealousies, which soon focus on the figure of his long-lost and recently rediscovered teenage love, Hartley. Hartley is older, heavier (referred to as \\"bearded\\" by one character), and married to an unpleasant, probably abusive husband. She's unhappy, but she's also not overly enthusiastic about reuniting with Charles. Even though Charles remembers her as enchanting and \\"fey,\\" she remembers him as being \\"bossy.\\" What you think of the novel will likely depend on how you perceive Charles' obsession with saving Hartley (whom he views as a sort of Beatrice), which persists for several hundred pages. There are other characters and other dilemmas that spiral out from Charles'疯狂 pursuit of Hartley, some of them quite humorous, while others are not. However, the Hartley aspect does become tiresome. (Towards the end of the book, I felt that I might vomit if I heard her name one more time.) That being said, the story does pick up towards the end, with some anticipated twists involving Charles' mystical cousin, James.

Overall, the novel is somewhat of a meditation on aging and memory. It's interesting to note that Murdoch, who was in her late 50s when she wrote The Sea, The Sea, was also close to the age of Arrowby (60). This was also of great interest to me, at age 58, and my reading experience, which sustained me through the seemingly interminable \\"Hartley\\" portion of the novel. (I'm not sure if my patience would have endured if I were reading it back in the 80s.) I'm glad that I persevered because The Sea, The Sea has much more to offer than just the \\"bearded\\" lady.

The Sea, the Sea by Irish Murdoch or What is wrong with the Booker?

Written after reading 28 out of 502 pages, one can't help but wonder why the author isn't going any further with this book. If ever the author were to find herself near Murdoch (Iris, that is, whose supposed crimes against humanity seem closer than one might think), and had a loaded shooting device at hand, she might ask with a fake smile, looking peaceful, what the capital crime punishment is in that area. Of course, the author would be thinking exactly what the reader might expect.

Why? Because Murdoch uses the words 'of course' all the time. Some might argue that it's the character using the words, not the author. But the author doesn't want those people to finish reading. Anyone could write crap in the first person and get it published. Heck, one could even win a Booker Prize. Big mistake. If the author had read the back cover, she might never have started this book. The first rule about any book is to check if it hasn't won the Booker.

The author isn't counting, but on just a few pages, the phrase 'of course' appears multiple times. It's exasperating. Maybe the Booker Prize is for hastily written trash. But of course, that's not what some will say. They'll talk about how carefully each word was selected by this skilled writer. The author checks the 'about' link on the Booker Prize page and reads about its importance and the integrity of its judging process. But still, she wonders what was so wrong with the books of 1978 that The Sea, the Sea got the Booker. She looks at the Goodreads most popular list of books published in 1978 and starts to question further.

Please provide the article that needs to be rewritten and expanded so that I can help you.

The Theatre and Charles Arrowby's Obsessions

The theatre is a complex and fascinating art form. It has the power to both deceive and reveal truth. As the author states, "Even a middling novelist can tell quite a lot of truth. His humble medium is on the side of truth. Whereas the theatre, even at its most ‘realistic’, is connected with the level at which, and the methods by which, we tell our everyday lies." This shows the contrast between the written word and the stage.

Charles Arrowby, a famous actor and director, has retired from the theatre to a home by the sea. He plans to live a quiet life of reading, eating well, and writing his memoirs. However, his past soon catches up with him when he sees his first love, Hartley, in the village. This encounter sets off a chain of events that turn his life into a stage play.

Charles is unable to let go of his fantasy of Hartley and becomes increasingly obsessed with her. His ex-lovers, Clement, Lizzie, and Rosina, also play a role in his downfall. Clement made him the successful man he is today, but she also kept him from finding Hartley. Lizzie is still in love with Charles and his jealousy rears its head when she decides to move in with their mutual friend Gilbert. Rosina, a famous actress, is obsessed with Charles and will stop at nothing to get him back.

Despite being rebuffed by Hartley, Charles's fantasy continues to grow. He believes that he can transform her back into the beautiful young girl he once knew. This shows his delusion and his loss of grip on reality. As the story progresses, we see Charles's true nature emerge. He is selfish, egotistical, and dramatic. He is no longer the man we thought he was at the beginning of the story.

The book, which won the Booker Prize in 1978, is a masterful exploration of love, obsession, and the human psyche. Iris Murdoch's writing style is impressive, and she does a great job of bringing the characters to life. This is the first Iris Murdoch book I've read, and I'm already looking forward to reading more of her work.

Iris Murdoch, born in Dublin in 1919, was a remarkable philosopher, poet, dramatist, and novelist. She passed away at the age of 79, her mind ravaged by the cruel monster of Alzheimer's.

“The Sea, The Sea”, which won the Man Booker Prize in 1978, tells the story of Charles Arrowby, an actor and director. At the age of sixty, he decides to leave the theater, move to an English village, and buy a house (with a Martello tower) by the sea. Here, he plans to enjoy tranquility to write his memoirs, eat well, and take sea baths. However, unexpected events disrupt Charles' plans.

“Time can divorce us from the reality of people and turn them into phantoms. Or rather, we turn them into phantoms or demons. A certain type of rigid obsession with the past can give rise to such simulacra, which can exercise powers, like those heroes of Troy who fought for a phantom Helen.”

Reading “The Sea, The Sea” is, as writer Ana Teresa Pereira said, “entering an unknown world, which is nothing like anything, and yet it is the one in which we live.” Iris Murdoch transforms the ordinary in life - marriage, jealousy, old age, solitude, death - into the extraordinary.

García Márquez published “Love in the Time of Cholera” seven years after “The Sea, The Sea”. I would say that he read it, as the love story of Charles and Hartley reminded me of that of Florentino and Fermina, with men faithful for decades to their first love. But Iris plays tricks on us, confounds us, disturbs us, questions us: “Who is our first love? Who, really?”

“The Sea, The Sea”... was a dazzlement from the first line. I read the last page several days ago and haven't been able to consider it finished. I reread some passages; I researched Iris' life; I read “The Tempest”; I read reviews and invented interpretations and connections that would explain what was left open. This book is one of those that stimulate the reader to read beyond what is written, to complete certain characteristics of the characters and to find meaning for some behaviors that the narrator (Charles) doesn't know, misinterprets, or tells from his point of view.

“The Sea, The Sea”... to keep, with great affection, in memory and on my shelf of Special Books.

“Time, like the sea, unties all knots.”

A retired actor's ongoing journal serves as Murdoch's ingenious strategy to reveal that Charles Arrowby possesses the emotional intelligence of a 7th grader and that his thought process is constantly under siege.

Themes and metaphors are aplenty in Murdoch's profound exploration of Arrowby's life. The sea alternates between being turbulent and calm, with swimmers resembling dolphins, and the inlet allowing the tide in like a seething cauldron. Memories, marriage, parental love, sea monsters, Buddhism, and jealousy are intricately woven into the actions of the numerous characters who pass through Arrowby's Shruff End. The reader is treated to a gamut of emotions, including happiness, sadness, mysticism, blessedness, and silliness. It is truly an astonishing writing achievement.

I had the pleasure of listening to the unrivaled narration by Simon Vance. The Sherpa story prompts cousin James to exclaim "Oh well……oh well," and Vance skillfully renders this as a prayer-like utterance. I can still vividly recall it.

This is a strange yet exquisitely crafted book, and I find myself wondering how Ms. Murdoch managed to transform it into a philosophical discourse. It definitely merits a reread to uncover all the hidden gems within.

Sprawling, sublime, delusional.

You may initially think that you have a clear understanding of where Murdoch is headed with this English seaside jaunt. However, as the journey unfolds, it becomes evident that you most assuredly do not expect these detours.

The seemingly straightforward path takes unexpected turns, leading Murdoch and perhaps the reader into uncharted territory.

Each detour presents a new set of experiences, challenges, and opportunities for discovery.

It is as if the English seaside has its own secrets to reveal, and Murdoch is being led astray, or perhaps led towards something more profound.

The delusional aspect comes into play as one tries to anticipate the next step, only to be proven wrong time and time again.

This English seaside jaunt is not what it seems, and Murdoch is about to embark on a journey that will test his expectations and perhaps change his perspective forever.

This will surely be among my absolute favorites this year!

At the very beginning of the novel, the intense unlikeability of the narcissistic narrator truly made me question why on earth I was reading it. Generally speaking, I have a strong preference for a protagonist that I can easily like and with whom I can establish a deep connection. However, by persevering and hanging in there, I gradually began to relish the unique way in which the unreliable narrator propelled the action forward in this novel. And let me tell you, there is an abundance of action.

I had the pleasure of listening to the audible version which was read by the amazing Simon Vance. He was simply fantastic! He had the remarkable ability to give each and every character a distinct and highly realistic voice - whether it was a woman, a man, or a young man. But, what's even more impressive is that he was so incredibly believable as the main character. I'm quite certain that someone must have optioned the book already. It would undoubtedly make an outstanding series.

It is extremely high on my recommended list. So, do yourself a favor and read this one!

The narrator of this novel is unreliable, frustrating, and also very dislikeable.

This definitely had implications for how I perceive the entire work.

I did like the main premise of the book, which is that an aging theater director decides to go to the sea coast to take some time off and reflect on his life up to that point.

However, his delusions very quickly catch up with him, and at some point, it becomes extremely difficult to distinguish what is real and what is unreal.

Iris writes with great elegance and finesse, but I found the story to be far too convoluted to truly enjoy it.

The overly complex plot and the unreliable narrator made it a bit of a struggle for me to engage fully with the novel.

Despite the beautiful writing, the overall experience was somewhat marred by these elements.

Perhaps others will have a different take on it, but for me, it was a case of a great premise that was let down by a convoluted execution.

Iris Murdoch had long been almost forgotten. Now, the Piper Verlag is publishing her most important works in a new edition. And what a sensational rediscovery it is!

It is difficult to describe what "The Sea, The Sea" actually is, for it consists of so many elements: a lost and supposedly rediscovered love; strange, almost inexplicable events; a kidnapping; an unexpected and incredibly comical encounter; loneliness in old age... and of course, the sea. When reading this here, one might think that the novel is completely overloaded. But quite the opposite is the case: it is wonderful to read and every time the story (and especially Charles Arrowby, the narrator) seems to get stuck, the plot takes a completely unexpected turn. I am simply overwhelmed by this book and can only recommend it most warmly!

This new edition of Iris Murdoch's works is a great opportunity for readers to discover or rediscover her unique literary world. Her writing style is captivating, and her stories are full of depth and complexity. Whether you are a fan of classic literature or simply looking for a good read, "The Sea, The Sea" and the other works in this new edition are definitely worth checking out.

Charles is an unlikable character. He decides to buy a house by the sea.

He retires from his life in the theatre in London to write a book about it. At first, he enjoys the solitude, swimming in the sea, and getting back to nature. He also has some strange ideas about food, with weird recipes of bland ingredients like boiled onions.

What Murdoch does extremely well is the descriptions of the sea, which are evocative and captivating. The colors of the sky, sea, and rocky landscape draw the reader into the story.

Charles is an egoist who dominates his friends, though he doesn't see himself as manipulative. His past love affairs with Clement, Lizzie, and Rosina are all failures in their own ways. Then, in the village, he accidentally finds his first love, Hartley. She is now a dowdy, unintelligent, and miserable woman living with her husband Ben in a bungalow. What follows is Charles' obsession with trying to win back Hartley and recapture the platonic love he had with her as a youth.

Jealousy, envy, melodrama, attempted murder, death, philosophy, and ultimately delusional episodes all become part of the story.

Charles wanted to escape his friends in London, but they all come to visit him. His Buddhist cousin James, ex-lover Lizzie who idolizes and still loves him, Rosina a star who hates Charles for destroying her marriage with Peregrine and is determined he won't be happy. Then Titus, the estranged adopted son of Hartley, comes on the scene to add to the mix. Alongside is his friend Gilbert who becomes a cook, cleaner, and dogsbody.

The story revolves around Charles' obsession with Hartley and trying to steal her back from her husband. Charles also hallucinates seeing a serpent in the sea and becomes increasingly paranoid and obsessed with getting back the love he had with Hartley as a youth.

What I liked about this melodramatic book was the description of the landscape and the eccentric characters. The dynamics between the characters are fascinating, as is Charles' madness.

Charles' vanity is exposed, as well as his misplaced love. His escape from the comforts and stresses of civilization to commune with nature and become a wise hermit is a failure. His friends descend on him, and his idyllic paradise sometimes becomes a dark and forbidding place because of his obsession with Hartley. Charles doesn't really change as a person, and in the end, a leopard never changes its spots, although he does become more realistic about his situation.

I've often had the sensation that I didn't exist, that I was completely invisible, far removed from the world, miles and miles away. You have no idea how alone I've been throughout my entire life.

I've felt as if I didn't exist, as if I were invisible, miles away from the world, miles away. You can't imagine how much alone I've been all my life.

If Iris Murdoch is worthy of being venerated as a kind of saint, then I firmly believe this line should be engraved on her shrines all around the globe.

I've noted numerous beautiful and concise passages in this bitter and wretched book, as seen below. I've paid attention to all of them, appreciated them, and recognized their truth and beauty. But that one line alone resounds within me as if I were a giant bell, clanging against the diverse walls, ceilings, and floors of the life I lead and have led. It's impossible for me to think that Iris Murdoch herself didn't feel this to her very core.

This wasn't her best book (that honor would go to The Black Prince). It was overly melodramatic and excessive, and in many ways, it was like a middle finger directed at her earlier, pre-Canetti self. Maybe towards Canetti too... But in any case, it's a book that should be experienced and devoured without any sense of guilt.