“Time, like the sea, unties all knots. Judgments on people are never final, they emerge from summing up which at once suggest the need of reconsideration. Human arrangements are nothing but loose ends and hazy reckoning, whatever art may otherwise pretend to console us.” This profound quote sets the tone for the story of Charles Arrowby.
Charles, a sixty-something retired actor, playwright, and theatre director, has bought Shruff End, a home in a small isolated English coastal town. By an unusual coincidence, he encounters his first love, Hartley, who lives there with her husband, Ben. Charles claims to have carried a torch for Hartley for many years. He is writing a memoir detailing his numerous lovers, his jealousy, his search for perfection, and how he has often “stolen” women from others. The story quickly zeroes in on Hartley and Charles’ plan to win her back, repeating a pattern from his past. A few friends, his cousin, Hartley’s son, and a couple of former paramours show up at Shruff End, adding to the chaos.
I see this book as a tale of narcissism and self-deception. It becomes clear that Charles is a narcissist, though the term isn't explicitly used. He convinces himself he is still “in love” with Hartley, despite decades passing and not really knowing her anymore. Charles is the quintessential unreliable narrator. He presents his view of events, only to contradict himself pages later. He says he'll “try to be good” but seldom succeeds.
What intrigues me is that Charles seems to be trying to shape his life into a play, casting himself as the hero and Hartley as the unfortunate victim in need of rescue. Of course, real life doesn't usually conform to such artificial manipulations. And here, the best-laid plans are bound to (and do) go wrong.
I'm surprised at how much I liked this rather long and densely written book, filled with unlikable characters. Towards the end, the characters react in unexpected ways to major events, and I'm not sure if these reactions are meant to be real or just the unreliable narrator's interpretation.
I recommend it for the author's creative use of language and a convincing portrayal of a narcissist. It's probably a “love it or hate it” kind of book. I'm not sure how I overlooked reading Iris Murdoch until now. She was a prolific writer, and I plan to explore more of her work.