I really liked the writing style of this work. The description was vivid and engaging, which made me feel as if I was right there in the story.

Moreover, the friendship between the two women was truly fascinating. Their relationship was complex and multi-faceted, filled with both love and conflict. It was interesting to see how they interacted with each other and how their friendship evolved over time.

However, my interest began to wane once the male narrator was introduced. I'm not sure why, but something about his presence just didn't resonate with me. Maybe it was the way he was written or the role he played in the story.

Despite this, I could tell that Murdoch was exploring some deep philosophical themes that I might otherwise find interesting. Themes such as love, loss, and the meaning of life were all present in the story. But for some reason, I just couldn't seem to find my way back into the story and fully engage with these themes.

Overall, while I had some initial enthusiasm for this work, I ultimately found myself losing interest as the story progressed.

This has been my first encounter with an author whom I had been really eager to read.

Beyond the plot, I have absolutely adored her writing style and the ability to create that suffocating atmosphere which slightly reminds one of the gothic novel.

I have thoroughly enjoyed it.

It was a truly immersive experience as I delved into the pages of her work. The way she weaves words together to build a world that is both captivating and a little bit eerie is truly remarkable.

Every sentence seemed to draw me deeper into the story, making it difficult to put the book down.

I can't wait to explore more of her works and see what other wonderful literary treats she has in store for her readers.

This initial reading has definitely left me with a strong desire to discover more about this talented author and her unique literary voice.

I don't know. Murdoch is indeed a great observer of people, and this is a great portrayal of the damage wrought by obsession. It is certainly an unsettling and thought-provoking read. I wish I'd enjoyed it more.

However, as I have said before, Murdoch's protagonists are at the heart not very sympathetic. They are wealthy and bored, a part of society which I can only envy, not having the opportunity to be either. That socialist feminist voice in my head kept screaming: why doesn't Hannah get a job and become independent? Or join the people for Nuclear disarmament or something useful.

Unfortunately, being irritated by the main character spoilt it for me. I understand that Murdoch may be trying to explore certain aspects of human nature and society through these characters, but their lack of relatable qualities made it difficult for me to fully engage with the story. I wonder if there are other ways she could have presented these themes without making the characters so unlikable.

The Unicorn is truly an extraordinary book.

I find it rather challenging to simply encapsulate my thoughts about it in ordinary language. It combines elements of fantasy and philosophy in a most captivating manner.

It is a spellbinding work, yet its magic might not affect everyone in the same way. For me, however, it had a profound impact.

It transports you to a timeless realm that is neither 1963 nor 1363. It is a gothic era where ritual sacrifice is prevalent, castles, fairies, and superstitions are commonplace.

Nevertheless, it is also possible (albeit not without difficulty) to return to the realm of plain English sense by means of a solid car or train.

My main critique is that for a book constructed on such strange and nebulous foundations, Murdoch reveals her intentions a bit too blatantly in her overt allusions to Plato and Freud.

Perhaps she was concerned that we would require her guidance to understand her purpose. I believe the book would have been enhanced if she had more faith in the intellectual capabilities of her readers.

This is my favorite by Iris Murdoch that I've read so far.

I will be thinking about this book forever. It's a wonderful gothic novel that delves into various themes such as gender, entrapment, God/religion, nature, relationships, and secrets.

I'm so eager to read everything she wrote. The plots are juicy, with believable characters and settings that effectively mimic the emotions of the scene.

And it's not afraid of a devastating ending. I truly love it.

I also wrote a better review in my journal.

I'm not sure if this was meant to be read as a gothic feminist warning about the effects of isolation and complicit silence on the psyche of a woman imprisoned by a man, but that's how I interpreted it, and I adored every moment.

Murdoch does an excellent job of creating characters who are a bit unlikable, yet in a way that makes them seem like real human beings.

Their handling of the delicate situation in this book is often comical and even frustrating, as you just want to shake one of them and tell them to take action.

I even read this book as a kind of warning about colonialism and whiteness, although I don't think that was the author's intention.

I've been reading a lot of English books lately, and the aspiration to gentility is often a central point in these stories, the crux of the conflict.

Maintaining that high-class illusion requires a culture of silence, respect for an unspoken hierarchy, and a cultural cognitive dissonance between morality and reality.

All of these elements are at play in The Unicorn, especially in the characters of Effingham and Marian.

They both pity the abused and entrapped Hannah, feel love for her, and want to protect her, but they constantly fumble when it comes to actually helping her.

They have turned her into an object in their minds, a tragic idol - untouchable, yet still pitiable, almost immortal and mystical.

She is not a real person to any of the characters. She is a possession to her husband and Gerald, a false idol to Effingham, Marian, and Nolan, the promise of wealth and security to Jamesie and Violet, and an object of pity and wonder to Max and Alice.

Each character has a slightly different view on how Hannah should be treated, under what conditions she should be freed, whether she is choosing this imprisonment, and whether she is choosing to be content with it.

This mystery is never solved. My take is that she had a sort of Stockholm Syndrome regarding her own imprisonment.

She had taught herself to like it just enough to survive, so as not to let her pity and despair consume her.

But as the men continued to meddle, she became fearful, then shriveled and numbed.

Any woman who has been abused knows what it feels like to withdraw into oneself and try to escape the pain of life.

This book poses questions about freedom, autonomy, free will, and the consequences of unchecked and unquestioned systems of oppression like gender norms and patriarchy.

No one wanted to intervene until it was too late, and Hannah's final act might have been her only free one.

I loved this novel and will definitely be reading every Iris Murdoch book I can get my hands on.

“What is spiritual is unnatural. The soul under the burden of sin cannot flee.” This profound statement sets the tone for Iris Murdoch’s “The Unicorn.” Every now and then, a book comes along that completely blindsides you and leaves you in a state of shock and confusion, wondering what on earth you just read. “The Unicorn” is precisely one of those books.

Where does one even begin to describe what unfolds within its pages? Imagine being shut up in a medieval castle with a small group of minders or guards. In theory, you are allowed to leave the grounds, but physically and psychologically, it is made impossible. Now, if you had to summarize the story, this is what it would be: a tale of captivity. Captivity of the past, of the spirit, and of the body. It delves into the sins of the past and how the protagonist and those around her pay for them with their freedom.

Murdoch’s narrative is a strange and captivating blend of philosophy, horror, and the desolate landscapes of cliffs, bogs, and storm-ravaged paths. The characters are deeply sad, having resigned themselves to their own imprisonment. There are moments when someone attempts to break free from these invisible chains, but it always culminates in chaos, despair, and a sense of resignation that perhaps it is best to simply leave things as they are. The resolution of the story seems to confirm this, as the final attempt to break the spell under which these characters live has catastrophic, if not predictable, consequences.

I cannot say that I enjoyed this book. There is little here to enjoy. However, despite all of its philosophizing and ambiguity, it is a book that will make you think deeply about your own freedom and what might be imprisoning you. It forces you to confront the darker aspects of the human condition and the power of the past to hold us captive.

The Unicorn by Iris Murdoch (1963)

“Everyone here is involved in guilt.”

The Unicorn is the first novel by Iris Murdoch that I have read. It weaves in elements of the Gothic, the allegorical, and the mythical within a suspenseful framework. There's a great deal happening in this novel, and by the end, Murdoch leaves it to the reader to determine its meaning. Some may be frustrated by the ambiguity, as the story's meaning is open to a wide range of interpretations.

The story begins when Marian Taylor, a thirty-year-old former schoolteacher, arrives at Gaze Castle to be a governess. However, she soon learns that she is to be a lady's companion to Hannah Crean-Smith, the owner of the big house in what is presumably the Irish countryside. Gaze and its surroundings are repeatedly described as ancient, alien, and isolating, with its inhabitants and their ways more like those of medieval times rather than a mid-20th century Western society. For example, when Marian arrives at the train station, she is recommended to travel to Gaze by horse, which is like going back in time and frightens her. What worries her most is the revelation that Hannah has been effectively imprisoned at Gaze by her husband, Peter Crean-Smith, for the last seven years, and the other inhabitants of the house are her jailers. Marian wants to help Hannah escape, and this drives much of the plot.

The novel's narrative structure offers the story through two points of view - Marian's and Effingham Cooper's. Effingham, or Effie, is a frequent visitor at Riders, the only other house near Gaze. He fancies himself in love with Hannah and, like Marian, is an outsider. Although he is an outsider, he shares in the guilt of keeping Hannah prisoner through inaction and because he likes the idea of her being sequestered. At last, Marian convinces Effie to help her break Hannah out of the prison-house. The consequences of this attempt, the reasons for Hannah's imprisonment, and the meaning of her suffering drive the plot to its somewhat ambiguous climax and conclusion.

The title of the novel is represented figuratively by the character of Hannah. Through a conversation between Max and Effie, we learn that the unicorn is a Christ-like image, an innocent creature captured and sacrificed to purge away the sins of others. This is the allegorical aspect of the novel, but it's a modern allegory as the meaning of Hannah's suffering is not interpreted for us. As readers, we have to decide what it means, if anything. I like that Murdoch doesn't tell us what to think, but on the other hand, I found the novel a bit frustrating. The ambiguity that allows for multiple interpretations also means there were moments when I wasn't sure what was happening. However, this ambiguity kept me turning the page, and even after finishing the novel, I'm still thinking about it and modifying my interpretation. I think this is a mark of a great book, as it captures my interest and makes me think.

On the other hand, while The Unicorn made me think, I'm not sure how much I liked it. The novel has an element of psychological realism as we see how events impact the psyches of Marian and Effie through their interior monologues. There is less dialogue, which I found a bit tedious, although I'm not sure why. Maybe I didn't find their thoughts interesting enough or wasn't as invested in them as characters. I understand the purpose of multiple points of view, but I wonder if I would have been more engaged with just one. When rating this novel elsewhere, I gave it two out of five stars, and now that I have to decide whether to recommend it to other readers, I'm still conflicted. While I enjoyed teaching it in a college literature course and some students responded well to it, I don't think I would recommend it to friends. In fact, I would recommend many other books before considering The Unicorn. In the end, I'm glad I've read a novel by Iris Murdoch, but I'm not in a hurry to buy another.

This is the eighth novel I have read by Iris Murdoch. As usual, I am reading them in the order of publication. It is truly hard for me to believe that she did not win the Booker Prize until 1978, especially considering the brilliance of her novel The Sea, The Sea. So far, each one I have read has left a deep impression on me and provided great entertainment.

The Unicorn has a distinct Gothic feel in both its setting and atmosphere. It delves into her recurring themes of infidelity and her philosophic exploration of human relationships. A young woman, Marian, takes on the role of a governess at Gaze Castle, which is remote, ancient, and crumbling on a desolate coast that gives the impression of being in Ireland or Cornwall. When Marian arrives, she discovers that there are no children. Instead, she is supposed to be a companion and a sort of tutor to Alice, a childless woman who has been abandoned by her husband. But is this really the whole truth?

Alice is a recluse, spending most of her time in her rooms, prone to having visions and strange religious compulsions. Marian quickly finds herself under Alice's spell but is completely out of her element among the strange assortment of inhabitants in the castle.

There are numerous mysteries. What exactly happened between Alice and her husband? There are rumors of infidelity and violence. A close friend of the only neighboring family has long harbored an unrequited love for Alice and visits her every summer. Murdoch masterfully creates a murky and dangerous atmosphere that pulls me in page by page, with her profound meditations on identity, love, guilt, and reality.

At times, the story can be overly melodramatic, although it is interspersed with humorous moments that wink at the tragedy unfolding. This led me to wonder why she would waste her time writing such a tale. Marian, young and idealistic, decides to free Alice from her self-imposed isolation, convinced that it is the others in the household who are keeping her prisoner. However, because Marian is completely unaware of the full story, her plans go horribly wrong. Thinking she has found an ally in the rejected lover, she becomes confused about who she can trust.

In the end, I was completely won over by the creepiness, the wild emotions, the forbidding weather, the rocky cliffs, and the raging seas. Despite feeling a bit manipulated, I finally realized that the author's intention was to show how life manipulates us all.

A truly bizarre story that is filled with a captivating Gothic atmosphere and is rich in numerous philosophical elements.

This book is an absolute gem that I thoroughly enjoyed reading.

From the very beginning, it had me completely hooked and held my interest firmly throughout the entire journey.

The unique blend of the strange and the philosophical made it a truly thought-provoking experience.

As I delved deeper into the story, I found myself constantly reflecting on various aspects of life, morality, and the human condition.

The author's masterful storytelling and the vividly描绘的 scenes added to the overall allure of the book.

It is a work that not only entertains but also makes you think, and I would highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys a good mystery with a touch of the macabre and a healthy dose of philosophical ponderings.

I first read this book approximately 55 years ago, back in the mid-1960s. Sadly, I didn't jot down the exact date when I read it, and as a result, I had forgotten nearly everything about it. All I could recall was that one of the characters was a teenage boy named Jamesie Evercreech. However, I did retain a faint impression of a household filled with people who had a history of rather complex and tense relationships.

Re-reading it, therefore, felt almost like reading a book for the very first time. I had no knowledge of the plot or most of the characters, yet there were occasional strange feelings of déjà vu. I was also extremely curious about, and thus constantly on the lookout for, any hints regarding the symbolism of the eponymous unicorn.

In the book, the viewpoint characters are two outsiders who arrive at two houses located on a coast far removed from any town. First, Marian Taylor comes to Gaze Castle in response to an advertisement for a governess. She discovers that the person she is supposed to teach is the chatelaine, Mrs Hannah Crean-Smith. It takes her some time to get to know her and the other inhabitants, and she gradually learns about their complex relationships with each other, being told about each one by one of the others.

The viewpoint switches in the second part to Effingham Cooper, another visitor, but this time to Riders, the house across the valley from Gaze Castle. He has a kind of academic crush on Mrs Crean-Smith, whose estranged husband lives overseas.

The book can be read on various levels. The setting is that of a Gothic horror tale, and Marian Taylor only gradually becomes aware of an atmosphere of growing evil. The main characters are upper middle class, with several nameless servants and only one or two named ones. When the final horror breaks out, we are told very little about the fate of the servants.

It took me a while to read this one.

Life has a way of constantly interfering, not to mention the allure of the latest J.D. Robb novel.

However, once I reached approximately the halfway point, I simply couldn't put it down.

This is my very first encounter with Iris Murdoch's work, and it is certain that it won't be my last.

The writing is exquisitely beautiful, painting a memorable and atmospheric landscape that lingers in the mind.

"The Unicorn" is a relatively concise book, yet it is one that demands to be savoured.

It offers highly enjoyable reading, transporting the reader into a world of its own.

I found myself completely immersed in the story, eager to discover what would happen next.

Overall, it was a wonderful literary experience that I would highly recommend to others.

Mine is a second-hand copy. I am sitting in the sun, not only reading but also savoring the warm brown edges of the pages. It makes me think back to an old and empty Victorian house where perhaps this book lay forgotten for years.

Chap 6. In the light of my kitchen, the page edges seem hardly brown at all. Could they be lightening up due to exposure to the air?

My wife's blue denim dress always looks wonderful on her, especially when paired with the bold jeweled necklace I bought in a Tiblisi market. “...one ought to cry out more for love, to ask for it. It's odd how people are afraid of the word. Yet we all need love. Even God needs love. I suppose that's why he created us.”

Still in the kitchen. Outside, the sky is grey, the colors are flat, and the leaves are motionless. Inside, my new LED bulb emits a too-perfect light. I am into photography. Black level is crucial. People (I think) are fond of the bright colors of a blue sky, a sea of bluebells, or gentle green waves breaking on bright yellow sand. I am feeling nauseous but I carry on reading.

Chap 7 and it's five minutes to 07:00. Time for another coffee. Now we are at the lily loch with its red and white lilies. I am pondering a woman in love with diving and the fish she studied. In the garden, something occurred, something was revealed, a spoiler.

Chap 8. Am I a prisoner too? I am conscious of the ticking clock “They were all growing older”

Chap 9 concludes with the prison door open. Effingham quotes from the chorus of ‘The Agamemnon of Aeschylus’. Strangely, I had ordered a MacNeice translation and checked it out: “Who setting us on the way of understanding made this a valid law- ‘That men must learn by suffering.’” “I feel we must do something, anything to break this spell. For it is a spell, a spell on all of us. We're all walking round and round in our sleep.”

Chap 10 ends with my dream. I am flying away from my island and watching the garden quickly recede into the distance. Then I wake. “I shall take refuge in the ‘Phaedrus’. Socrates says words can't be removed from place to place and retain their meaning. Truth is communicated from a particular speaker to a particular listener.”

Surely she would understand him. “You see. You see. You see, death is not the consummation of oneself but just the end of oneself. It's very simple. Before the self vanishes nothing really is, and that's how it is most of the time but as soon as the self vanishes everything is, and becomes automatically the object of love. Love holds the world together, and if we could forget ourselves everything in the world would fly into a perfect harmony, and when we see beautiful things that is what they remind us of.”

Chap 30. They were all trapped in a goddamn awful spiral. The connections, the manacles forming and reforming. It has something to do with ‘black level’. As I gaze into the spine of the pages, I see the soft orange brown deepen to a black line and on both sides the story unfolds.

I am done. The characters have all departed. Fantasy, reality, illusion? ‘Even enlightenment is illusion.’ I will remember how a group develops a shared story and how we long to escape from it.

“Miss Evercreech suddenly took Marian's hand in a firm grip and led her over to the window. She drew her right up against the pane so that the girl's shoulder was driven into the lace curtain, releasing dry and dusty smells. Outside the evening was still bright, its colors all washed with gold and an orange-and-purple sunset was building up over the sea. But Marion did not dare to take her eyes off the scrutinising face lit up now as on a little stage. ‘What is your religion, child?’ ‘I have no religion.’”