My most personal encounter with Murdoch so far has been truly remarkable. I adored it, despite its idiosyncrasies. The philosophy, by most standards, might seem a bit overt, but then again, she is an ethicist-novelist. Once the character of Iago began to carry out his actions, it became quite a terrifying read. The plot incorporated elements from the set-up of Malvolio and other uncomfortable comedies of Shakespeare. I found Iris Murdoch's interpretations truly sinister and even more discomfiting than the original Shakespearian works. Perhaps this is because I had no inkling of what Murdoch was going to do to the characters, to me, or where she would draw the line. It was a disconcerting read on multiple fronts.

Tallis, her scarcely-effectual saint in the midst of squalor, has won my devotion. Julius, on the other hand, is probably the devil incarnate. Simon and Axel, a dear gay couple, have an ending that is not unhappy (and this does not count as a spoiler).

I know I will return to this work for life wisdom. It also serves to puncture that adventurism in love that I recall. After all, who does it like Murdoch?

Murdoch is indeed one of my favorite writers. I have always been drawn to her unique writing style and the depth of her characters. However, when it comes to this particular book, I have to admit that it failed to make a lasting impression on me.

The story seemed to lack the usual spark and creativity that I have come to expect from Murdoch. The plot felt a bit flat and predictable, and I found myself not fully engaged in the narrative.

Despite this, I still appreciate Murdoch's talent and will continue to read her other works. I believe that every writer has an off day, and this book may simply be an exception to her otherwise outstanding body of work.

The first half was very slow and the dialogues were rather artificial at times. However, there were many beautiful themes and it was written in beautiful English.

It seems that the initial pacing of the story might have been a bit of a drawback, as it took some time for the narrative to really pick up speed. The artificiality of the dialogues could also have been a distraction for some readers.

Nevertheless, the presence of beautiful themes within the text cannot be overlooked. These themes added depth and substance to the overall work, making it more than just a simple read.

Moreover, the use of beautiful English was a definite plus. The language was rich and engaging, enhancing the reader's experience and allowing them to fully immerse themselves in the story.

Despite its flaws, the work had its redeeming qualities and was still worth reading for those who appreciate well-written English and thought-provoking themes.

OK, it's not really the great novel it sets out to be, but it's very entertaining. Julius King is one of my all-time favorite bad guys. He's like a high-brow Hannibal Lecter-lite, as it were. I was rather shocked to discover the explanation for his lack of affect.

Here's the bit I liked best. The woman is very taken with him and hangs on his every word. He tells her that Turner is rubbish and has no talent at all. She uncritically believes him. Then, a bit later, she visits the National Gallery and is delighted when she now experiences the Turners as amateurish and poor. Ruining someone's ability to appreciate Turner, just for fun. Now that's a creative portrayal of evil.

Julius King seems to have a malicious charm. He doesn't just stop at badmouthing Turner. He actively works to influence the woman's perception. It's almost as if he takes pleasure in distorting her view of art. This aspect of his character makes him both fascinating and repulsive. I can't help but root for him to continue his mischief, even as I'm appalled by his actions. It's this complex mix of emotions that makes the story so engaging.