This review won't be overly long as I completed this book several weeks ago and only now am getting around to writing the review.

Perhaps it's because I felt I couldn't do it justice, being unsure if I could properly convey why I'm giving it a 5-star rating.

The simplest explanation, I guess, is that it had nearly everything I love in a novel. It had a desolate setting, strange characters, a tragedy/tragic romance, and it makes you ponder after you've finished. Just from the title, this novel evokes symbolism and the idea that it shouldn't be taken at face value. I adore novels that do this.

Moreover, I found it progressed at a slow burn pace, which I also appreciate. It had a build-up of action in the last quarter of the novel, and I thought the ending was fitting. Since the story was about "the unicorn", the question of who the unicorn is arises. I would contend that the story is actually about Marian rather than Hannah. While Hannah is the one who drives the action, it's Marian who learns from it and changes throughout the novel. Hannah is already doomed; Marian is the one who has to survive.

But that's the sort of thing this novel does for you. It allows you to take a concept or an idea from the novel and play with it in your mind for a while. The novel isn't just a story about a crazy lady in an old house; it's about much more than that, but Murdoch leaves it up to us to determine what that is. We can take from it what we want.

I also found the mystery captivating. I liked the characters because it was difficult to figure out where their loyalties lay, and I enjoyed the tone. There was something persistently menacing about the novel. Even when Marian was doing something as simple as walking, it was as if a ghost was constantly haunting the place with sorrow.

Overall, I simply adored this novel. It was like an old Gothic tale, but because it was more modern, people talked about and had sex. Murdoch also did a great job with the subtleties of Marian's attraction to Denis. When it culminated, I was overjoyed because I was hoping it would happen. The novel was also interesting because it was first published 50 years ago. Could the same story occur in a 2013 setting? I don't think so, but maybe.

There is a certain degree of philosophy and allegory present in the majority of Iris Murdoch's fiction. However, in some novels, it is far more prominent than in others. The Unicorn is among those where the grand themes are very much at the forefront and, in my opinion, perhaps a little overdone. Her characters also often walk a fine line between being amusingly and captivatingly larger than life and being annoyingly one-dimensional and lackluster. Once again, I felt that The Unicorn erred on the wrong side of this line. Having said that, this is still Iris Murdoch, and as such, it contains some exquisitely written passages. There is more than enough in it to have compelled me to read until the end, despite not finding it on a par with her finest work.

Apart from the strange existential contemplation of the characters over their relationships to the protagonist, the house, the land and the sea, this book truly has a powerful hold on the reader. It remains steadfast and foreboding, keeping one on the edge of their seat. The smell and taste of whiskey, which is vividly described, is also something that I find myself craving for throughout the journey of this tale. It adds an extra layer of authenticity and allure. All I have to do now is to read the remaining books of Murdoch and be completely enthralled by her remarkable depth and insight. I am eager to explore more of her literary world and discover the hidden gems that lie within her works.

I really caught up on Murdoch's masterful descriptions. Her words have the power to transport the reader into a completely different world.

Each sentence is carefully crafted, painting vivid images in the mind. The details she provides are so rich and precise that it's as if you can see, hear, smell, and touch everything she describes.

Whether it's a beautiful landscape, a complex character, or a tense situation, Murdoch's descriptions bring them all to life.

Reading her work is like taking a journey through a magical and enchanting place. It's a truly immersive experience that leaves you in awe of her talent as a writer.

I can't wait to continue exploring her works and being amazed by her masterful descriptions over and over again.

I was really disappointed.

As I sat there trying to put the puzzle together, I noticed that the puzzle pieces didn't fit as they usually do.

It was frustrating because I had been looking forward to this activity as a way to relax and unwind.

I tried different combinations, rotated the pieces, but still, they just wouldn't fit properly.

I began to wonder if there was something wrong with the puzzle itself.

Maybe a piece was missing or misprinted.

Despite my efforts, I couldn't get the puzzle to come together.

In the end, I had to put it aside, feeling a sense of defeat.

But I told myself that it was just a puzzle and there would be other opportunities to try again.

Maybe next time, the pieces would fit perfectly and I would have a more enjoyable experience.

First thoughts

I don't know what to make of this. It's truly a mystery to me. It's definitely not the straightforward Gothic stuff that I'm accustomed to. There's something more complex and nuanced going on here. The elements seem to be intertwined in a way that makes it difficult to simply categorize. It has an air of enigma that keeps pulling me in, making me want to explore further. Maybe it's a new take on the Gothic genre, or perhaps it's something entirely different. I can't quite put my finger on it yet, but I'm intrigued. I'll need to spend more time analyzing and dissecting it to understand its true nature. For now, I'm left with this sense of curiosity and anticipation, eager to see where this will lead.

In this vast and ever-changing world,

there are no voices that are not soon mute.

No matter how loudly they may have been raised,

or with what intensity of emotion they were expressed,

eventually, they will fade away into silence.

Similarly, there is no name,

no matter how passionately it may be loved and repeated,

of which the echoes are not faint at last.

Names that once held great significance and were on the lips of many,

will over time, lose their luster and become mere whispers in the wind.

This is the inevitable cycle of life,

where all things, no matter how grand or glorious, must come to an end.

We may try to hold on to the voices and names that we cherish,

but in the end, they will all succumb to the passage of time.

The power that it has is truly remarkable. It enables it to make significant decisions and have a profound impact on various aspects.

The intelligence that it possesses is equally impressive. It allows for in-depth analysis and understanding of complex situations.

The clearance that it has provides it with exclusive access to crucial information and resources.

The access that it enjoys gives it an edge in many fields, facilitating seamless operations and interactions.

The influence that it wields can sway opinions, shape policies, and drive change.

The profile that it has is highly visible and respected, attracting attention and admiration from around the world.

The international implications that it has are far-reaching, affecting global relationships and dynamics.

All these factors combined make it a force to be reckoned with in the international arena.

Marian Taylor applies for a job as a private tutor at a remote country house. All she knows about the job is just that.

When she arrives, she discovers that she isn't going to be teaching a child. Instead, she is more or less acting as a companion to Mrs Hannah Crean-Smith. Mrs Crean-Smith never leaves the grounds of her large house, Gaze, which is situated between a treacherous bog and some black sandstone cliffs overlooking an even more dangerous sea. Why doesn't Hannah leave the grounds? Slowly, Marian learns the increasingly profound story behind the stifling, overheated atmosphere of unchangingness at Gaze. She also finds out that this state has existed for almost seven years, and everyone is anticipating some kind of change to happen soon.

I had never read any of Iris Murdoch's novels before this. I suspect that The Unicorn might have held more meaning for me if I had, as I would have been better prepared for the type of book it is. The situation at Gaze, with everyone's lives revolving around the aftereffects of a single event, especially Hannah Crean-Smith's reaction to it, feels like one of Kafka's equally Gothic setups. It entraps and obsesses every character in a similar way. Marian, like everyone at Gaze and its surroundings, soon begins to think about everything in terms of Hannah, who is compared at various times to a vampire, a 'false God', and the unicorn of the title. And this leads to a great deal of often (and often abstract) speculation about the nature of guilt and love.

It's a novel filled with muted emotional desperation and people trapped by self-imposed inhibitions. Whenever anyone takes any sort of action, it is usually immediately thwarted (until things suddenly become dramatic near the end). As a result, a miasma of futility seems to hang over the book.

I finished it not being certain what Murdoch was trying to convey. Either it was a very, very dry black comedy about how human life amounts to nothing more than a ridiculous and contrived waste of passion. Or it was suggesting that any situation, no matter how strange and artificial, is a valid focus for intense emotions. After all, the best that can be hoped for in one's life is to find something that you can feel about, even if feeling ultimately changes nothing. In this regard, it felt to me very much of its time, a book from the pessimistic age of Existentialism. However, aside from one moment when a character is lost and thinks they are dying in the bog, it lacks the sort of peaks of intense experience that you sometimes get from Existentialists to add a bit of necessary vitality.

I realised soon after I started The Unicorn that I had in fact attempted it many years ago and loathed it, having given up before I ever finished it.

I also soon realised that I wasn’t sophisticated enough a reader all those years ago to appreciate what was afoot.

This time around, I was utterly captivated by Dame Iris’ tenacious commitment to keeping within the genre conventions of the Gothic novel while at the same time writing a modern psychological novel set in the real world (well, the early 1960s, to be exact).

The experiment attempts to meld two modes that are completely at odds and, while it doesn’t always work and teeters once or twice into absurdity (well, it is a Gothic novel), Dame Iris never degenerates into easy parody.

There are long stretches in which she succeeds thoroughly, even wittily.

It’s a subtly haunting book – Dame Iris’ Gothic tale shows us how the mind can turn one into both the damsel held captive in a dark tower and, at the same time, into the gaoler.

The complex and intertwined nature of the human psyche is explored in a masterful way, making The Unicorn a truly remarkable work of literature.

It challenges our perceptions and forces us to look deeper into the recesses of our own minds.

Dame Iris’ writing is both beautiful and thought-provoking, leaving a lasting impression on the reader.

Not for me.

These two simple words hold a world of meaning. They can express a sense of detachment, a lack of interest, or a refusal.

Sometimes, we say "not for me" when we are presented with an opportunity or a situation that doesn't align with our values, goals, or preferences. It's a way of asserting our individuality and making a choice that is right for us.

However, saying "not for me" can also be difficult. It may require us to step out of our comfort zone, face criticism or disappointment from others, or even give up something that seems appealing on the surface.

But in the end, it's important to remember that we are the only ones who can truly decide what is best for us. So the next time you find yourself in a situation where you want to say "not for me," don't be afraid to do so. Trust your instincts and make the choice that is right for you.

Because in the end, life is too short to waste on things that aren't meant for us.

You can also see my review at The Literary Sisters.

The Virago Vintage Classics edition I read commenced with an introduction by Stephen Medcalf, who was Iris Murdoch's very own student. As he remarks in his introductory essay, The Unicorn is "set between two famous landmarks on the west coast of Ireland, the cliffs of Moher and the limestone country of the Burren". I myself have never been to Ireland (yet), but simply looking at pictures of these places to have the image in my mind when reading the story made me think that Ireland was the perfect setting for such a gothic story to unfold.

The book begins with one of the main characters, Marian Taylor, who has been appointed as a governess in a remotely located castle on the west coast of Ireland. There, Marian gets to meet and hear about many different people, including those also residing in the castle as well as some peculiarly acting neighbours.

Marian's life at the castle is rather uneventful at the start, until suddenly she begins to notice that the people around her may not actually be as innocent as they seem. The castle itself, along with her employer Hannah's life, transforms into a complete mystery in which everyone appears to be secretly involved, and Marian decides to seek answers to all the questions presented before her. Hannah never leaves the castle and seems to be a prisoner within her own property, while her husband is enigmatically away for a long period. As Marian becomes more and more deeply immersed in this mystery, she (and the reader along with her) starts to doubt the authenticity of the events that occur in her surroundings and to herself as well.

I must admit that The Unicorn is a beautifully written novel. I had not yet had the chance to read any of Murdoch's other works before this one, and it really piqued my curiosity about her other stories. However, it did take me quite some time to fully engage with the story. I adored the ominous atmosphere and the landscape descriptions at the beginning, but the novel felt rather repetitive and redundant to me from that point on. I had been rereading Jane Eyre before starting this novel, so it felt very much like yet another imitation of this gothic romance genre.

However, after a few chapters, the events took such a sudden turn that it made me really eager to see how the author would ultimately wrap things up and conclude this strangely enchanting tale. Fortunately, it did not end up being similar to the other gothic novels I initially had in mind. I liked how the novel was divided into seven parts, and in each part the narrator's voice would alternate between Marian and Effingham Cooper, a visitor of the people who live nearby and is in love with Hannah. Each narrator presents the events from their own perspective, and thus the lines between who is lying and who is not become rather blurred.

After reading the entire novel, and especially upon reading the introduction, I am certain that this novel contained much deeper philosophical meanings and symbolisms than I could comprehend. I did not particularly like how the characters fell in love with each other in an instant and forgot about it when the tiniest distraction arose. It might have been done deliberately, to serve the establishment of the magical and mystical atmosphere, since it seemed like everyone was acting as if under some sort of spell, but I found it rather unnecessary. Perhaps I should revisit this book at some point in the future, when I will be able to notice more in it than in my first reading.