This book is dubbed Murdoch’s first “English novel.” It is set in the heart of the English countryside, within a large estate housing the self-supporting lay community of Imber Court, which in turn encircles an Anglican nunnery (the Abbey). The Court and Abbey are separated by an artificial lake. The transition from the outside world to the Court and then to the Abbey symbolizes a progressive journey deeper into the spiritual life. Only the beautiful and neurotic Catherine is expected to make the complete journey through all three zones. The conceit of a group of people voluntarily cut off from the world and grappling with their human frailties and moral dilemmas is rife with conflicts that normal lay people may never encounter.

Conflict from the outside world arrives at Imber Court in the form of Dora, a transgressive housewife with no intention or concept of the moral life. She has left her academic, bullying, and control-freak husband, Paul, only to return to him because she fears ending up in another affair if she remains on the loose. Paul is living at the Court and working at the Abbey on some 14th century manuscripts. A host of other characters populate the Court, and Murdoch displays some amateurish novel writing when she introduces them like a reception line-up.
Rounding out the cast of characters are deputy head James Tayper Pace, who has a different philosophy than Michael, and budding Oxford student Toby Gashe, who has come to Imber to experience the spiritual life. The villain of the piece is Nick, Catherine’s twin brother, mercurial and alcoholic, who had a homosexual affair with Michael fourteen years ago and derailed the leader’s plan to become a priest by betraying him. However, many of these characters come across as caricatures, with only their positional markers evident on the page. It is with the three POV characters, Dora, Michael, and Toby, that we are able to explore a deeper level of motivation and moral speculation.
There is an element of magic and superstition in the novel, which seems to haunt Murdoch’s works, not to mention the obvious moral philosophizing that goes on ad nauseam. The superstition is related to the curse of the old bell that is said to have toppled off its tower in the Abbey and sunk into the lake when a nun transgressed and took a lover. Disturbing the old bell from its watery grave is supposed to cause a death in the community. The old bell is therefore to be replaced with a new one in a consecration ceremony conducted by the Bishop. After the ceremony, the replacement bell will be rolled over the causeway from the Court to the Abbey, just like a new nun would enter the cloister, and just like Catherine is due to do shortly. But Dora, who has spent most of her life in small flats and rooms, is growing bored with the ordered life at Imber Court. Having discovered the location of the submerged bell, she conspires with her willing acolyte and love-struck Toby to switch bells and perform a miracle to spice up the dull old place. The bell serves as both a metaphor for buried secrets that are best left alone and as a catalyst for a series of farcical incidents that trigger the simmering tensions within the residents of Imber Court and bring them to a boil, spelling the end for this fragile community. In fact, metaphors abound; the reader is left to puzzle over the butterfly in the train carriage, the lost luggage, the lost shoes, and the causeway, among others. The tensions are mainly of a sexual nature, or more precisely, occur where sex conflicts with morality. Even though the sex amounts to nothing more than hand-holding, cuddling, and kissing, the implications of those actions for this community that seems to have renounced the world and bound itself by conventional roles are staggering.
The philosophy in the novel is also worth mentioning. James Tayper Pace is a traditionalist who believes in innocence over experience and in “obeying the rules.” Michael, who is battling with his homosexuality, believes in knowing one’s capabilities (and fallibilities) and in not over-reaching them. Nick believes that a good man should recognize sin in himself and in others and be prepared to confess. It is the Abbess who has the most profound insight: “We can only learn to love by loving. Remember that all our failures are ultimately failures in love. Imperfect love must not be condemned and rejected, but made perfect. The way is always forward, never back.” I suspect that Murdoch was expressing her own viewpoint through the Abbess.
This is a very “told” novel in the firm hands of Murdoch. I had difficulty trying to envision how “a narrow stare of anxious suspicion” could be depicted. Words like “rebarbative” occur frequently. And we are left with a lot of loose ends as the community dissolves and disperses. We never know who sabotaged the causeway, we never know whether Dora will ever get back with Paul, or whether, as she suspects, Michael will marry Catherine and have lots of kids. I believe that Murdoch was more interested in creating situations where moral dilemmas could be brought into focus and examined rather than in writing a novel where every loose thread is neatly tied up and where everyone lives happily ever after. In fact, except for the nuns in the cloister who come across as the most balanced, no one does. They all seem to disperse from Imber Court with a heavy bell of secrets tied around their necks.

A sense of ennui prevails and clouds over The Bell, despite its seemingly unshakeable spiritual sentiments. Murdoch's lucid prose is a baffling yet tempting force. It almost seduces innocence, leading it to destroy itself in the surge of forbidden desire.

She makes independence toil to discover its own worth against the deceitful freedom promised by both religion and marriage. Instead of emancipating, they cage. There is a friction between a "calling" and a "passion".

The Bell resounds at a distance, hauntingly and tearfully. It drowns in its subtle dissonance, almost to a dying shrill, before gasping for air and pushing itself up. Then it resounds faintly, ringing cautiously of hope, in time. And this process takes time.

However burdening guilt, regret, grief, and rejection may be, there is a place for everyone to not only nurse but also to heal. In this compelling tale of brooding faith and disbelief, people break each other's hearts and even their own.

Though none of Murdoch's characters are completely likeable, they manoeuvre in a reality that is glaringly familiar to all of us: the struggle with knowing and accepting one's flawed self, and most powerfully, the forgiveness of mistakes, the unalterable past, and our ever-changing selves. Sometimes, you have to put and think of yourself first.

"With strong magnetic force the human heart is drawn to consolation; and even grieving becomes a consolation in the end."

It is a delightful and effectual read, despite its little spells of tragedy.

This was my first encounter with a novel by Iris Murdoch, and I must say, she has most definitely gained an enthusiastic reader in me.

I find myself in a bit of a quandary when it comes to writing a coherent review of this novel. On the surface, the story seems quite straightforward, but the inner workings of its themes remain somewhat of a mystery to me. Murdoch's greatest strength lies in her remarkable ability to truly understand and read her characters. She delves deep into their thoughts, exploring their contradictions with great finesse. Her characters come alive on the page precisely because they are incoherent, constantly changing their minds, and filled with a wide array of complex feelings and sensations. They are forever torn between the notions of right and wrong, the pull of the heart and the dictates of the head.

Many reviews of this novel here on Goodreads have already touched upon several aspects of it far more eloquently than I ever could. For this reason, I have chosen to focus on how the book plays with the idea of retreating from the world and how it ultimately shows us that such an attempt is futile. You simply can't hide or run away from your troubles. You can't naively believe that going away will magically fix everything or bring you peace. I'm not entirely sure I completely agree with this perspective, as I have a great appreciation for the idea of an escape route. However, I do thoroughly enjoy how the story subtly conveys the message that eventually, we have to face up to ourselves. And as we do so, we should proceed with gentleness and care. Love oneself as one loves others, and that love will surely prevail.

A present from a very wise Secret Santa, this book has truly captured my interest.

I’d never read any Murdoch previously, but now I find myself wondering why, oh why, have I left it so long?

This book is an absolute gem. It is not only funny, with its witty remarks and humorous situations that make me laugh out loud, but also profound, delving deep into the human psyche and exploring complex emotions and relationships.

The characters are so believable that they seem to come alive on the pages, and I find myself completely invested in their stories.

And let's not forget the beautiful sentences. The author's writing is so elegant and descriptive that it paints a vivid picture in my mind.

Thank you, Secret Santa, for introducing me to this wonderful book. It has become one of my favorites, and I will cherish it for a long time to come.

Iris Murdoch's fourth novel delves into familiar themes such as kindness, love, truth, friendship, freedom, and spirituality. Set in a religious context, it presents two distinct models of life. One emphasizes the need for a precise guide to action, while the other encourages self-reflection. The various characters navigate these paths with different degrees of success, often influenced by their impulses and emotions, especially sexual ones. The story is centered around the strange marriage of Dora and Paul, and features other characters like Michael Meade, Catherine, Noel, and Toby. Each character has their own unique qualities and struggles. While the novel has its flaws, such as its long beginning and overly detailed descriptions, it still manages to be engaging and thought-provoking. Overall, it is a solid work that showcases Murdoch's talent as a writer.

\\n   “… la campana tañe a veces en el fondo del lago, y si se oye, presagia una muerte” \\n

This quote adds an element of mystery and foreboding to the story, hinting at the potential for tragedy.

The novel explores the complex nature of human beings and their relationships, as well as the role of religion and spirituality in our lives. It challenges us to question our own beliefs and values, and to consider the consequences of our actions.

Despite its flaws, I would still recommend this novel to fans of Murdoch's work or those interested in exploring deep and meaningful themes. It may not be her best, but it is certainly worth reading.

In conclusion, "The Bell" is a novel that offers much to its readers. It is a rich and engaging exploration of the human condition, filled with memorable characters and thought-provoking ideas. While it may not be perfect, it is a testament to Murdoch's skill as a writer and her ability to create a world that draws us in and makes us思考.

Another magnificent book written by one of my favourite authors.

This author has an extensive body of work that is truly remarkable.

Among the titles are "Living on Paper: Letters from Iris Murdoch, 1934 - 1995", which offers a unique glimpse into her life through her letters.

"Iris: A Memoir of Iris Murdoch" provides a personal account of the author.

"Iris Murdoch: Dream Girl" is another interesting work.

Then there are novels like "A Severed Head", "The Sea, the Sea", "The Black Prince", "The Bell", and "Under the Net".

The list also includes "The Sacred and Profane Love Machine", "A Fairly Honourable Defeat", "The Nice and the Good", "The Philosopher's Pupil", "The Sandcastle", "The Italian Girl", "The Good Apprentice", and "The Red and the Green".

Each of these books has its own charm and offers a different perspective on the author's literary genius.

It is truly a pleasure to explore this collection of works.

3.5 stars

This is the fourth Iris Murdoch book I've read during the readathon I'm participating in (https://librofulltime.wordpress.com/t...). After enjoying the first three, my expectations were high. However, "The Bell" was a bit of a challenge for me. This was largely because there is a significant amount of religious exposition and discussion in the book. There's a lot of hand-wringing over sin and morality, especially in relation to being gay and Christian.

The novel is set in a lay community in Gloucestershire, England, which shares its grounds with an Abbey where the nuns are cloistered. There are about six original members of the community. At the beginning of the story, Paul joins them. He is researching 14th-century manuscripts. Then his wife Dora and an 18-year-old boy, Toby, also arrive.

Dora Greenfield is the first character we encounter. She is a young, perhaps not entirely carefree, woman who has left her possessive husband for a while and now decides to reconcile with him at the Abbey. Despite her capriciousness, Dora is a complex character. Her focus on the present moment has both advantages and disadvantages for herself and those around her.

In contrast to Dora is Catherine, a virginal young woman about to enter the Abbey as a nun. Dora initially resents her for purely superficial reasons, comparing herself physically to the younger woman. Dora also worries about Catherine and the fact that she won't be able to leave the Abbey. Meanwhile, Dora herself feels trapped with Paul, as she says, 'That was marriage, thought Dora; to be enclosed in the aims of another.'

Toby is another young and carefree visitor to the community. He provides some comic relief with his insistence on using the new word'rebarbative' in various situations. However, his innocence is challenged in his interactions with others. The idea of innocence being sullied and superficial is part of the religious and moral themes in the novel. There are several characters who are not what they seem, hiding something whether they want to or not. This concept of secrets and suppressed and hidden identity has also appeared in other Murdoch novels I've read recently.

Dora and Toby meet and embark on a scheme involving the titular Bell, which mirrors other 'Murdochian' plans with similar results. There is a cringe-worthy quality to these ambitious plans that the reader feels cannot possibly succeed. There is also a sense of relief when the plans change. Dora and Toby seem similar, both immature and naïve. But Toby's naivety stems from innocence rather than ignorance. In contrast to his simple faith, Dora sees herself as a 'priestess' longing for attention and reverence from those around her.

Michael is another main character in the novel. He is a closeted and troubled gay man who is constantly weighing his desire for men against his religious faith. Iris Murdoch was aware of the homophobia of the time, and I think she manages to make Michael sympathetic in his torment. However, his religious philosophizing and what A.S. Byatt calls his'spiritual masochism' can be a bit much for this reader. I know from reading Liz Dexter's Iris Murdoch and the Common Reader that some readers believe Michael's behavior borders on pedophilia. However, this didn't occur to me because of the way Murdoch writes about Nick. And the adult Nick himself is a mystery, one of those characters in Murdoch novels that are never fully illuminated or explained.

Other characters include James, Patches, and Mrs. Mock and her husband. The first two stand in stark contrast to Michael and Dora, seemingly straightforward people who find the world infinitely simple to understand. The latter two are also hiding something behind their religious convictions, although we never find out what that is.

London appears as the antithesis of the community, a world where God is no longer important. Noel, the journalist, is a strident atheist who despises religion. It is a place where Dora can have freedom, looking at paintings in the National Gallery and calling them'something superior and good', a secular version of the nuns and the Abbey. The community, however, has its own charm, both for her and the reader. I loved the idea of living off the land, the layout of the grounds surrounded by water, the secluded peace of the Abbey with its high walls, and the way the weather and the time of day changed its appearance. The nuns make few appearances, but their serenity and strength are effectively communicated, as is their simple faith.

Ultimately, this novel contains Murdoch's wonderful writing. She has the ability to create a place, characters with varying degrees of complexity and empathy, and scenes of both contemplation and action. However, the religious philosophizing and agonizing can be a drawback for someone who is not religious themselves. I found the sermons that James and Michael give tedious and distracting. As such, I can't rate this novel as highly as the other three I've read. However, as I've said before, I'm still very much looking forward to continuing my journey through the work of this wonderful writer.

Some choice lines:

"I'm afraid", he said, "that Mrs. Greenfield is what is popularly called a bitch. I'm sorry to say so, but one must call things by their names. Only endless trouble comes from not doing so."

'It was sunny again, but chill; the dusty illusions of late summer were giving place to the golden beauties of autumn, sharper and more poignantly ephemeral.'

There is absolutely nothing wrong with this one. It is a perfectly fine thing. However, it simply wasn't my cup of tea. Everyone has their own preferences and tastes, and this particular item just didn't appeal to me. It might be great for someone else, but for me, it didn't quite hit the mark. Maybe it was the style, or the color, or something else entirely. But whatever the reason, it just didn't work for me. That's okay though, because there are so many other things out there that will surely be more to my liking.

**The Bell: A Philosophical and Psychological Exploration**

Iris Murdoch's "The Bell" is a captivating early philosophical novel. Set in a rural woodland area of Gloucestershire, England, the story unfolds within a religious lay community at Imber Court and a nearby Abbey of Benedictine nuns. The novel begins with Dora Greenfield's decision to leave and then return to her husband Paul, who is temporarily at Imber Court. Dora's journey takes her through a series of moral dilemmas and self-discoveries.

The characters in the novel are diverse, each with their own ethical issues and problems. The lay community, the nuns, and various visitors all interact, creating a complex web of relationships. The novel is filled with literary motifs and metaphors, such as the butterfly and the two bells. The butterfly represents freedom and fragility, while the bells symbolize different aspects of the characters' lives and the moral conundrums they face.

The three sermons in the novel, delivered by different characters, offer different perspectives on the meaning of a good life. James emphasizes the importance of innocence and faith in God, while Michael focuses on self-knowledge and using one's spiritual energy to do God's will. Nick's sermon takes a more individualistic approach, highlighting the importance of caring for others and taking responsibility for one's actions.
As the story progresses, events at Imber Court take a dramatic turn. Dora and Toby's plan to substitute the old bell for the new one goes awry, leading to a series of unexpected consequences. There is guilt, embarrassment, confession, and tragedy. The community is torn apart, and the characters are left to deal with the aftermath.
Despite the tragic events, the novel ends on a relatively low-key note. Dora and Michael are the only two remaining at Imber, and they part ways. Dora decides not to return to Paul but to stay with her friend Sally. The reader is left with Dora's experience and feelings, much as the novel began.
Overall, "The Bell" is a thought-provoking novel that explores the nature of morality, the search for meaning and purpose in life, and the role of religion in a modern world. It is a remarkable work that combines philosophical depth with engaging storytelling, making it accessible to a wide range of readers.

"There is a story about the bell ringing sometimes in the bottom of the lake, and how if you hear it it portends a death."

There were numerous people, as she stated, and Michael was all too willing to believe her, for he felt himself to be one of them. These individuals, he thought, could neither fully embrace the world nor completely withdraw from it. They were a sort of afflicted souls, their longing for God making them ill-suited for the ordinary life of a citizen, yet their strength or temperament failing them when it came to surrendering the world entirely. And in present-day society, with its frenzied pace and mechanical and technical structure, there seemed to be no haven for these unhappy spirits.

The Abbess's voice drifted from behind a holy grille. Designated as such, if one could believe. Believe that she knew your heart, though you couldn't see hers. If one could view her as a church to enter and find solace within. Behind walls, a locked door, away from confinement and the need for patience. Perhaps from all the time in the world. But if one were to touch their hand to the bars in a prison love scene, would they suffocate from the claustrophobic air? Mouth to mouth, seeking to know the heart. Michael couldn't quite believe. He was, however, fascinated. There were ideas she could suggest, but no one to bring them to life.

There were many people, she said, and Michael was but too ready to credit her since he felt himself to be one of them, who can live neither in the world nor out of it. They are a kind of sick people, whose desire for God makes them unsatisfactory citizens of an ordinary life, but whose strength or temperament fails them to surrender the world completely; and present-day society, with its hurried pace and its mechanical and technical structure, offers no home to these unhappy souls.

A young woman in Michael's religious community received her sign from God to take her own vows and enter into confinement. Michael believed her because she said so. It was a secret, a dreaded promise. The signs on the bottom of the cereal bowl pointed to a good night's sleep. Their religion was a material of "I will know it when I see it" to shield "I will deny it when it makes me alive." An ill omen, it was in the cards, and Michael wondered how he thought he would get away with it in the end. Iris Murdoch was like his nun, hiding cheat kings and queens under her robes. She held every piece in her hand and never let go.

'And what are the marks of innocence? Candour- a beautiful word - truthfulness, simplicity, a quite involuntary bearing of witness. The image that occurs to me here is a topical one, the image of a bell. A bell is made to speak out. What would be the value of a bell which was never rung? It rings out clearly, it bears witness, it cannot speak without seeming like a call, a summons. A great bell is not silenced. Consider too its simplicity. There is no hidden mechanism. All that it is is plain and open; and if it is moved it must ring.

Nick's suicide, Catherine's schizophrenia. Did Nick truly live as himself when no one was around to watch him? The tree felled in the woods. Murdoch would tell you what it sounded like. No secrets. Off-stage and it wasn't a life. It wasn't a story. Michael never really knew Nick. He existed as a sign around Michael's neck. Catherine's romantic love for Michael. Michael's furtive lust for the young Toby. Nick confronted Toby. "Please leave Nick. Please leave Catherine." Michael had second, third, fourth, and fifth thoughts. Michael could almost think for himself. Murdoch told you what the next thought was before he'd even had it.

The introduction for the Penguin classics edition mentioned something about Murdoch's aim for the story to work from the perspective of every character. But it wasn't really a story, was it? It was more like the suggestion of a story. The frivolous Dora, who couldn't seem to live with or without her husband, the controlling and dour Paul, who loved her against his will. Michael wasn't sure if he truly loved her. He knew that Paul said he loved her and that it went against what he would have wanted for himself. Paul wore a serious expression and held an important job that brought him to the religious community, almost parasitizing on the Abbey's reason for being. "Tell me what to do. Dress me, put me in a place. Against my will, against my better judgement." Michael knew that Dora had affairs, imagined the start of something with other men she met, this Dora who thought a lot about not thinking. Michael should have been able to think for her, she droned on like a life support machine. Catherine haunted the edges of her mind, that part that would almost start to live. Unplug. Drones. Murdoch told Michael this was so.

Was their innocence meant to remain separate from their own blood, sweat, tears, and dirt? Did the Abbess truly know them from her cell afar? They thought. This meant this. That meant that. Every single thing took place off stage. Michael had a bent head that looked like Nick's, like something out of an almost dream. Michael dreamed and he wanted. Michael had that. He had bare legs. He had Dora's story of the nun who didn't want to be a nun and a drowned bell. An almost idea before it buzzed into whims. Michael had ideas. But they didn't seem to have a life of their own.

Three and a half stars. I really thought about giving it 4 stars. However, there were just so many questions that lingered in my mind regarding what exactly motivated or drove some of the characters to their ultimate ends. It was rather unsatisfying for me in that regard.

Nevertheless, if you have a deep appreciation for truly creative writing, then this piece is definitely worth a read for that aspect alone. Here's a prime example:

"Toby, as a Londoner, was not used to moonlight, and marvelled at this light which is no light, which calls up sights like ghosts, and whose strength is seen only in the sharpness of cast shadows." The way the author describes the moonlight is truly captivating and shows a great deal of creativity. It makes you stop and think about the beauty and mystery that can be found in the simplest of things.

Overall, while the plot may have had its flaws, the creative writing more than makes up for it. It's a unique and engaging read that I would recommend to anyone who enjoys exploring the boundaries of language and imagination.

Dear Dame Iris Murdoch,

I have been an ardent fan of yours for an incredibly long time. It seems like ages since I last delved into one of your remarkable novels.

Many years ago, I began reading ‘The Bell’ but unfortunately didn't manage to finish it. I got easily distracted, perhaps feeling that I had temporarily had my fill of your unique literary craft. From what I can recall, I also found it rather challenging to read the small font. If you were still alive today, you would surely be amused to know that most, if not all, novels these days are printed with 1.5 or double line-spacing and in a much larger font! Additionally, we now have the convenience of e-books.

Your book ‘The Bell’ is compact, yet it must have a substantial word count. If it were to be printed today with the required typesetting, it would undoubtedly be classified as a ‘door stopper’.

My copy of ‘The Bell’ (published in 1958) has been sitting on my bookshelf for decades, and now the pages have acquired a charming, old-worldly yellow tinge. I have returned to it with a newfound excitement and the help of reading glasses.

It showcases all the trademarks of your expertise. For instance, within the span of just half to a full page, you can vividly describe emotions and reactions that occur in a mere second in real life – and with that, we are completely drawn into the mindsets of your characters.

Your storyline, which revolves around an eclectic group of anxious and peculiar characters striving to live together but ultimately doomed to fail in an experimental closed Anglican lay community, is truly brilliant.

You offer us philosophy (after all, you have been rightfully called a philosopher, haven't you?), religion (along with characters grappling with their religious beliefs), symbolism, human relationships (both good and bad), awkward human interactions (oh, you handle this so adeptly), British sharp wit, penance, and social commentary on adultery and homosexuality. Your delicate and astute handling of the latter is both brave and masterful, despite being deeply influenced by the restrictions and prejudices of your era.

Once again, Dame Iris, you would be entertained to learn that your frequent use of the word ‘gay’, along with its derivatives ‘gaily’ and ‘gaiety’, holds a different colloquial meaning in today's society. We now have ‘gay marriage’, and homosexuality has been decriminalized in many countries. I have a hunch that you would have supported this, or at the very least, provided a detailed philosophical argument both for and against it.

A few times, when I got sidetracked and skimmed through some passages, I would go back and re-read them. I wanted every single word to carry its full weight, and indeed they did.

I also discovered a new word: rebarbative. You used it numerous times, so I had to look it up on Google – that's a modern term associated with ‘the Internet’ which emerged at a time when your faculties were unfortunately affected by the insidious Alzheimer's Disease. I wonder what you would have thought of the Internet?

I am aware that many contemporary readers find it difficult to warm to your dense, philosophical writing. I can understand that perspective. However, for me, returning to your work has been an absolute pleasure.

I have also watched a film simply titled ‘Iris’, which is about your life, relationships, and the decline of your health. It starred Kate Winslet and Dame Judy Dench as your younger and older selves respectively. It was painfully honest and provided valuable insights into what inspired you to become a novelist.

I must confess that ‘The Sea, the Sea’ remains my all-time favorite, and I will surely read it again soon.

In the meantime, ‘The Bell’ merits almost equal praise, and I thoroughly relished reading it.

I have noticed that there are numerous TV interviews of yours available on YouTube (yet another modern media innovation). I eagerly look forward to hearing some of your wisdom that has been archived for future generations. We also have ‘book bloggers’ nowadays who discuss some of your other books that I have read, such as ‘The Unicorn’, ‘A Fairly Honourable Defeat’, and ‘The Philosopher’s Pupil’.

Thank you once again for giving me the gift of ‘The Bell’.

Signed:

Your devoted fan.