I am fascinated by the virtuosity of Iris Murdoch and shocked by her character, Charles Arrowby, who is so egocentric, immoral, and capricious!

The novel is difficult to read and requires rereading. It is unclassifiable and multifaceted. In my opinion, it is not suitable for all readers or for any moment.

Special mention should be made of the last paragraph. I have never read such a good full stop!

Murdoch's writing style is complex and nuanced, demanding the reader's full attention. The character of Charles Arrowby is a study in contradictions, making him both repulsive and strangely compelling. The novel explores themes such as love, morality, and the human condition in a profound and thought-provoking way.

Despite its challenges, I found "The Sea, the Sea" to be a rewarding read. It is a book that will stay with me for a long time, and I look forward to rereading it in the future to discover new layers of meaning.

The novel that won the Booker Prize in 1978, where the hero of the novel and the author here, "Charles Arrowby", a famous and intimidating playwright and director, decides to retire and seclude himself from the world in a remote coastal village on the North Sea. He buys a house overlooking the sea and begins a simple new life far from the hustle and bustle of the city of "London", and also writes his personal memoirs in the hope of escaping from his past and seeking peace to illuminate his soul and his world dominated by the moonlight and romantic relationships.

The text begins with an original start in describing the sea and the atmosphere surrounding the house overlooking the crashing sea and a beautiful and enjoyable description of the seagulls he finds in the prefaces of the novels, taking you into the world of the sea and seclusion with all its elegance and power. The sea becomes an important element throughout the narrative, and the background for all the central events, along with the recall of childhood memories, emotional relationships, friends, and his important relationship with his nephew "James", who has a Buddhist nature and their relationship since childhood. The shellfish is created to see in that village the lost love of his life "Hartley", but she is now married and has become the mistress of a simple household in the same secluded village. She dominates him and he insists that she is not happy and that she still loves him, and even the desire to kidnap her and run away with her and save her from that cruel husband. Many characters appear in the narrative, come and go; among them is "Hartley's" adopted son and his suspicions towards him. We find here that "Arrowby" is still haunted by the past and seclusion has not worked to make him forget his past but has made him more eager and active, and he behaves childishly and feels a sense of grandeur and that he is the strong man who can reach anything he desires.

We notice that the sea throughout the novel is present in the background and is the central player in the fate of some of the novel's characters. "Murdock" was able to draw the character of "Arrowby" as a deceptive and mysterious one with the well-known black comedy spirit, and the struggle between good and evil, love and beauty and freedom. The spirit of the sea has become a magic that envelops the atmosphere of the novel and the ambiguity between the real and the imaginary, and also shed light on the sexual struggle between "Arrowby" and "Ben", "Hartley's" husband, and an indication of the extent of that sexual domination over them and over the women who compete for them. Will "Arrowby" succeed in his plans or will he be defeated in front of the sea?

You may find the novel strange and its story, which on the surface and appearance seems unnatural and wasteful to the reader; but in its depth it reveals many life philosophies: strength and illusion; the mixture between them and self-deception, intertwined love relationships and their death and revival, the love of possession and its passion, and many other human characteristics that do not end, with a deep sea in the background watching all those events and waiting.

"If time were to expand for a person until he could write his entire life, thing by thing, in the form of a novel, how short this work would be! The happy parts would have double happiness, the funny parts would be even funnier, and as for the sins and sorrows, their occurrence would be alleviated in the light of philosophical mourning."

I struggled with this for a while, mainly because I was so irritated by Charles Arrowby, the main character and unreliable narrator.

Arrowby is a retired actor, director, and playwright. He has moved to a remote cottage by the sea and is tentatively writing his memoirs. Whole successions of characters, many of them former lovers, arrive and depart. Charles encounters his first love Hartley, who has also retired to the area with her husband.

Like many of Murdoch’s characters, Arrowby is not very likeable. He seems completely oblivious to the mayhem he creates among his nearest and dearest. I also found myself increasingly irritated by what he did with food. If Murdoch meant him to be annoying, she wrote him very well. There is moral complexity and ambiguity as Arrowby tries to recapture his first love. The cast of secondary characters is strong and not there for mere ornament. Cousin James is an interesting counterpoint to Arrowby.

The Sea is an ever-present element. The title comes from Xenophon’s Anabasis. It tells the story of 10,000 Greek mercenary soldiers who get stranded in the middle of the Persian Empire. They have to fight their way to the Black Sea coastline near Greece. The cry of “The Sea, The Sea” is one of joy and relief, symbolic of home. However, a French poem has the line “The Sea, The Sea, forever restarting,” which also has resonance as Arrowby tells his story.

It will be no surprise to know Murdoch’s favorite Shakespeare play is The Tempest, and there are parallels. Arrowby is an odd Prospero. The sea serpent is a strange addition. The principal idea here, the key to all Murdoch’s fiction, is contingency. Murdoch argues that literature should provide what religion and philosophy now cannot. She stresses the importance of the accidental, unpredictable, and life’s messiness. Contingency invades Charles Arrowby’s life regularly, and the ending is unresolved, messy, and contingent.

Who is one's first love? Who indeed.

In the journey of life, there comes a time when one may yearn to step out of the complex and often tumultuous theatrical world of power, jealousy, and love. One might seek solace in the embrace of nature, hoping to learn the virtues of innocence and goodness. Charles Arrowby is precisely such an individual, and this novel chronicles his unsuccessful attempt at finding peace.

The "sea, the sea," a natural environment that should have been a haven of tranquility, instead becomes a reflection of Charles' inner turmoil. Just like in The Bell, this novel explores the desire to reclaim the past. However, before reclamation can occur, one must first uncover the truth of what truly constitutes the past, a task that most of us struggle to achieve.

Similar to The Bell, where Murdoch uses characters like Dora, Catherine, and Toby to both connect and then sever the ties between Michael and Nick, in this novel, all the other characters serve as a bridge between Charles and his cousin James, a Buddhist military officer. Interestingly, it is James, rather than Hartley (referred to as the Helen of Troy of this novel), who is the real object of Charles' obsession. Charles endeavors to pit his attachment against James' detachment, his sea against James' mountain. Yet, at the same time, he craves James' companionship and rescue. In a sense, James represents a form of spirituality for Charles.

As love deteriorates into possessiveness and jealousy, spirituality devolves into superstition and power. Love is the unseen hand that propels us into the deep abyss of the sea, while spirituality is the mysterious force we hope will come to our aid. First love, that initial fixation of our lives, in a way embodies both love and spirituality. It pushes us and then saves us, and from that moment forward, we are no longer paralyzed by the fear of being thrust into that dark and perilous chasm.

The Sea, The Sea is a captivating novel that begins with Charles Arrowby, a renowned and successful theatre director, retiring and starting a journal which evolves into a reflective and philosophical memoir. He retreats to an isolated, semi-derelict cottage by the sea, claiming to seek a quiet life, though he admits to being an unreliable narrator.

Murdoch creates an idyllic atmosphere with a warm spring in Northern England that defies reality, complete with vivid descriptions of the sea and sky. In this "prehistory" of the spring, Charles reveals himself as pretentious, obsessive, and a jealous control-freak. He manipulates his friends and lovers shamelessly and has a misogynistic streak, yet women are drawn to him.

However, most of the novel, the "history" of that spring, takes on a different, nervy and frenetic atmosphere. It centers around Charles's first love, Hartley, whom he knew as a child and who disappeared after dumping him in their late teens. More than forty years later, he discovers she lives nearby and attempts to win her back, oblivious to her lack of interest. He kidnaps her, weaves a fantasy about her unhappy marriage, and makes absurd plans for their future together.

The novel is a wonderful portrayal of obsession and self-deception, with a cast of characters including friends, ex-lovers, and Hartley's long-missing son Titus, all with their own agendas. While much of it is hilarious, it also feels a bit contrived, and the contrast between the opening and later sections doesn't always resonate well. Nevertheless, it does have a tragi-comical Shakespearean feel, with a tragic denouement that leaves Charles sadder and perhaps wiser.

The novel could have ended there, but Murdoch includes a "postscript" with more of Charles's reflections and philosophy, which I found a bit excessive. Overall, The Sea, The Sea is not a bad book, but it could have been shorter and more satisfying.

Oh, Charles.

At Shruff End, you are loudly telling yourself your own story, with so many variations that you only realize what actually happened much later and you missed it all. All those plans, like smoke and mirrors, clouded your actions in real time. My heart aches for you, even though I don't really like you much. I do see a little of myself in you, and that's more than sobering.

You wore me out. You ended up where you began, needing to make peace with your real life. Some characters stay with me. I don't think you will.

But... Titus will. James will. Hartley will. Lizzie & Gilbert, too.

Don't worry. You'll be fine. As long as the voice telling the story is yours, you always rise above, no matter how the events unfold.

Be clear: the stars are for the author's skill in writing. Not for you, Charles. Not for you. She wrote you so completely that I believed you to actually exist.

I’m fairly certain no one writes, or ever has written, exactly like Iris Murdoch. Reading her prose is like listening to Frank Sinatra sing. You might have heard the song before, but never like that.

In the first 200 pages of this book, I was truly at a loss. Charles seemed an egocentric misogynist, not worthy of the interest I was showing in him. The plot appeared desperately thin and a bit all over the place. However, the writing was exquisite. The descriptions were musical, and there was something fascinating that made me never think of putting the book down.

Then, suddenly and surprisingly, all the bits began to fall together. Charles became someone intricate and complicated, and the plot started to develop into a gripping story of love, obsession, misdirection, mystery, and human foibles. Minor characters took on hidden meaning and became central to the story. Charles became someone you could laugh at and cry for simultaneously. I succumbed to emotions that bubbled up like the surf of Murdoch’s raging sea. I felt the tension of the situation, struggled to think how it could be resolved and leave anyone intact, worried for the sanity of everyone involved, and mourned for the things that might have been if any of these characters had lived life with their eyes open.

If there is one thing unique in Murdoch’s writing, it is that you feel her story as much as read it. As the quote goes, “It’s not an eternal thing, nothing human is eternal. For us, eternity is an illusion. It’s like in a fairy tale. When the clock strikes twelve it will all crumble to pieces and vanish. And you’ll find you are free of her, free of her forever, and you can let the poor ghost go. What will remain will be ordinary obligations and ordinary interests. And you’ll feel relief, you’ll feel free. At present you’re just obsessed, hypnotized.”

How much of life is exactly that? Obsession and invention. How often do we substitute our realities and possibilities for dreams that are unreachable? Is it worth anything to us if we recognize the truth of love when life is all but done? And how much like the ever-changing, unfeeling, often cruel sea is life? Charles romanticizes both and plays a dangerous game with both. Each of us must decide for ourselves if the price Charles pays is worth the knowledge he gleans.

Charles is a complete character. He grows and morphs, despite all his efforts not to. And while he is growing, so do we. This is the only Murdoch I have ever read, but I have no hesitation in labeling her “genius”.

1978 Booker Prize winner, The Sea, The Sea is my first introduction to the Irish author, Iris Murdoch. To tell the truth, I chose it as my first read because it won the prize so I could kill two birds with one stone: Read Iris Murdoch as well as reading a Booker Prize-winning novel. I'm so pleased that it worked well for me. Not only did I enjoy the novel, I also found an author whose writing is such a pleasure to read.

The Sea, The Sea narrates the story of a vain egoist, Charles Arrowby. He retires from his job as a theatre director and settles in a house near the sea. His retirement project is to write his memoir in the quiet seaside house. However, both his present and past interfere with him and disrupt his plan. Acquaintances, mistresses from the past, his strained relationship with his cousin, and an obsessive illusory love of the past test his selfish self in more ways than one. Loss, grief, and loneliness teach him the lessons of redemption. Although a full transformation is not in line with the character of Charles Arrowby, the learning acquired through pain helps him to reflect on his many flaws and change as much as he humanely can.

The protagonist, Charles Arrowby, is not an easy character to like. But surprisingly, I didn't quite dislike him. Perhaps, it was her amazing writing skill that helped me overlook his egotism and his self-centered destructive conduct towards others. This doesn't mean that Murdoch deliberately mitigated his flaws through her writing. On the contrary, she presents him as truthfully as possible. But somehow, the Charles Arrowby stemming from Murdoch's pen was not completely despicable. This was a relief because the entire story is closely knitted around him. Arrowby was the central and key figure of the story, and the rest were minor characters. However, the minor characters contributed significantly to the story so as to balance the effect of the protagonist's overbearing actions. Murdoch's writing and the supporting characters held the thread tight not giving any room for Charles Arrowby to snap it with his unpleasant actions. Murdoch doesn't wholly absolve Charles which I thought was suitable because we humans cannot ever forgo our flaws completely even though we strive to reform through lessons we learn in life.

The book's credit goes much to Murdoch's polished writing skill as well as her philosophical reflections on life through Arrowby's character. There are religious, social, and political undertones that run subtly underneath the story which were quite intelligent. I found them interesting and thought-provoking. Murdoch's writing is rich and poetic. The description of the sea setting was so magnificently and picturesquely done that the reader can visualise it through her words. Her writing utterly captured me. It smoothed my reading journey through some of Charles Arrowby's revolting actions. In truth, Murdoch's writing helped me endure Charles Arrowby and look beyond him to the story that is being told.

A significant contributor to the story, apart from its human actors, is the sea. The sea and the protagonist, Charles Arrowby, are closely linked. The sea brings calamity, destruction, and grief to Arrowby as well as healing and peace. The symbolic role played by the formidable sea reiterates the power of nature to both destroy and salvage.

Needless to employ more words to say how much I enjoyed reading this splendid novel though it is by no means a happy story. Sometimes, there is beauty in sorrow.

More of my reviews can be found at http://piyangiejay.com/

This book, which earned the author the Booker Prize in 1978, is truly a powerful one.

I had seen it countless times at library sales and for years, I had the thought that I should read it. Finally, I did, and I deeply regret not having read it earlier. I'm giving it a well-deserved rating of 5 and adding it to my list of favorites.

The main character is a recently retired actor/playwright/theater director. He was an average actor, a better playwright, but a masterful director. It was in his last endeavor that he achieved fame and made his fortune.

However, the main character is also an egotist. The press has labeled him a tyrant and a power-crazed monster. He's a misogynist who has used and abused women throughout his life. A good male friend tells him, "the trouble with you, Charles, is that basically you despise women."

Now, he has left the London scene to live by himself in a beach house in a tiny town, the first house he ever owned. His friends wonder what on earth he will do there. How can someone like him, so accustomed to the chaotic social scene of London's theater world, seriously live in isolation in a small seaside village?

He spends his time writing a memoir that is a combination of a diary and an autobiography, along with copies of letters he sent or received. This, basically, is the book. Of course, we can't trust this unreliable narrator; even he admits that his letters are "partly disingenuous, partly sincere."

Miraculously, he discovers that his first love lives in the tiny village. (Critics have criticized the author for too many coincidences and "bizarre" plot twists.) Charles feels that he has fallen in love with her again, or perhaps that he never stopped loving her. She's married in what he comes to believe is an abusive relationship. Without giving away too much of the plot, I'll just say that he basically "kidnaps" her from her husband and tries to persuade her to love him again.

Marriage relationships are a major theme of the book. We see questions such as: In a bad marriage, can you really "live on half dead and even have pleasures in your life"? What about spousal abuse? And the statement "She felt herself guilty of his sins against her" makes us think.

There's also the thought that "Of course a marriage can look terrible, but be perfectly all right." And we all know that there are those seemingly perfect, ideal marriages that everyone talks about, praises, and tries to emulate, until they break up.

An ethical question is raised: can we say that a child's death can "strengthen" a troubled marriage if the child, now an adult, was the cause of most of the trouble?

The book is filled with melodrama. After all, these are theater folks. Many of the women he abused in the past, who he wooed and then abandoned, still seem willing to move back in with him now that he is alone. They seem to still hate him, despite their willingness to return. All his old loves (he never married) come back to haunt him with dramatic, unannounced entrances (he has no phone). They come dragging their metaphorical chains like the ghosts of Christmas past. They appear at his door at the most inopportune times, creating a theater-like farce.

At times, the women talk and act more like they are mentally ill than in love. One woman breaks into his house and smashes mirrors and vases. Another smashes a purse. One enters the dining room while he is dining with a friend and spits on the floor. Another ambushes a car full of people he is traveling with, smashing all the windows with rocks. He tells us, "I had witnessed hysterical screaming before, but nothing like this."

There are also some surprising plot twists. There's an accidental death, an attempted murder, and a death where it appears that the person "willed it."

There are several passages that I really liked. For example, "Guilt feelings so often arise from accusations rather than from crimes." And about his parents, "We were poorish and lonely and awkward together." The statement about bad press, "Even if readers claim they 'take it with a grain of salt', they do not really. They yearn to believe, and they believe, because believing is easier than disbelieving, and anything which is written down is likely to be 'true in a way'."

Overall, this is a really good book. It's another "beach house" book by an Irish author. There are several other great beach house novels by Irish authors, such as those by William Trevor, Banville, Colm Toibin, and of course, the classic by Virginia Woolf, although she is not Irish.

Murdoch can be considered an Irish author even though she grew up and went to school in England. She was born in Ireland and both her parents were Irish.

This was the first novel I read by Iris Murdoch, and I have since read about a half-dozen more. But I still think this one is my favorite.

Photos from top: thewordtravels.com, e-architect.co.uk, countryandtownhouse.co.uk, dailymail.co.uk.

Edited for typos and spoilers 2/3/2022 and 9/18/23.

Dear virtual friends,

It took me a month to read this book because I savored every page. It is a masterpiece and I am unable to compose a decent review. Read it!

This book is truly remarkable. The author's writing style is engaging and captivating, making it difficult to put the book down. Each chapter unfolds with new surprises and insights, keeping the reader on the edge of their seat.

The characters are well-developed and relatable, and the story line is both thought-provoking and entertaining. I found myself completely immersed in the world that the author has created, and I can't wait to read more of their work.

If you're looking for a great book to read, I highly recommend this one. It's a must-read for anyone who loves literature and wants to be transported to another world.

Truth be told, I was scared of the book.

Scared of its length, scared I might not like it enough to finish it. (I'm very frustrated when I can't finish books - I always feel it's my fault).

Thank goodness Murdoch really knows how to write. I actually loved reading "The Bell" a couple of years ago and I promised myself I'd keep on reading Murdoch. But I never knew which one to continue with, and, yes, I was scared of their length :). And I chose this one because it was mentioned in a really nice interview with Murdoch's translator into Romanian and her friend for 25 years.

What's new here (possibly in some of her other novels too, no idea!) is that Murdoch writes from a man's perspective (Charles Arrowby, retired theatre figure in his sixties). Some say she did that because she wanted to write like a man / be treated like a male writer. Seriously? The woman had published about 18 novels before this one, one would think she must have tried that already, don't you think?

I both loved and hated Charles throughout the novel. Of course he's self-absorbed / self-deluded / obsessed / despotic but he cooks the lightest and most rustic meals ever, he's in deep love with cheese and wine and he doesn't mind living a secluded life in his isolated, rusty house near the sea.

There are a lot of things going on, which disturb Charles' peace and quiet. Past and present mingle together, twisting with his mind, playing tricks on him, friends who love and loathe him equally. Not one thing that was in a certain state at the beginning remains the same at the end. Well, maybe the sea. Buuut, I would have loved the book even if Murdoch hadn't done anything else but describing Charles every day, cooking, sipping wine, going swimming and mending his house - this is how much I liked it. By the way, if a director thinks about turning the book into a film, I hope they'd consider Alan Rickman for Charles' part.

P.S. Really nice portrayal of the characters - James Arrowby deserves an entire novel to himself!

“Who is one’s first love?” This question haunts Charles Arrowby, a moderately famous playwright who has retired to an old house on the edge of the sea. He intends to write about Clement, the much older actress and former love who made him famous. She is just one of many former loves he will discuss, part of the web of theater people in his life. Here in isolation, he contemplates them all and himself.

In the first section, he is simply musing to himself. But in the second, these people come to life on the scene. Through a series of strange coincidences, we begin to see the complexity of his life's truth. Charles unexpectedly meets his long-lost first love, and his pursuit of her becomes the central focus of the story.

“She was a part, an evidence, of some pure uncracked unfissured confidence in the good which was never there for me again.” We may not all be famous or have dramatic friends like Charles, but we are the stars of our own lives. And often, we act as if we are the center of everything.

“How important it seems to continue one’s life by explaining oneself to people, by justifying oneself, by memorializing one’s loves.” Charles is blatantly selfish, and we can clearly see his faults as we read. He is easy to mock, yet there is something relatable, something human in his selfishness that we all share.

Or perhaps it isn't Charles at all, but Murdoch and her writing skill. You wouldn't think these self-obsessed ramblings and unlikely events would be interesting, but I was completely gripped for all 500 or so pages. I found each character to be fully-formed and uniquely interesting (if often baffling). His cousin James provides a whole philosophical subplot, and the photograph of James' parents dancing, described with such subtle and tender detail, is something I can picture perfectly and won't forget anytime soon. So, writing is the key to the success of this novel.

Still, throughout the book, I kept wondering what was real and who to believe. I wanted the illusions to be corrected somehow. But I don't think the author is concerned with realism here. She is laying out a landscape of our fickle minds.

Iris Murdoch was a philosopher novelist, and in this book, she took that combination to an amazing height. I've enjoyed the three of her books I read previously, but this one is special. It's a wonderful convergence of character, subject matter, and setting. The sea! It is tumultuous and dangerous, yet calming and healing, mysterious and unknowable. Just like us, as complex as we think we are anyway. It reflects what's going on in the sky, and like the never-ending conversation inside our heads, it constantly clamors on and on.