What a complete mess!

After reading 4 of her books, I truly believe I should have stopped at The Black Prince. She seems to lack any real gift for composition. While she can sometimes elicit a chuckle and is quite excellent at the sentence level, this chimerical behemoth (why on earth is it so incredibly long?!?!) is just far too aimless. It is filled with blather and constant description that often feels redundant.

There are, admittedly, some beautifully human observations on the inner lives of the characters. However, these grace notes occur only a handful of times throughout the text. The rest of the time, the prose feels dead on arrival (DOA).

Why do people think her novels are philosophical? In truth, philosophy hardly comes into play. The one conversation Rozenov has with the priest is not only boring but also completely unstimulating. Neither character stakes out a believable position, and they simply don't have anything interesting or profound to say. I've read a significant portion of her book on philosophy, and it was, more or less, twaddle. I got so bored that I actually chucked it aside.

She is a scholar, and she gives a veneer of scholasticism to her works. But in reality, they are really just about desire. It's just that - a mere veneer. There are no real ideas at the core. Yet, everyone feels the need to dress these things up as sophisticated, deep texts when, in fact, they are just muddled, soapy potboilers.

I may give her one more chance, but I truly think that you only really need to read The Black Prince. She is, in my opinion, one of the more overrated 20th-century writers.

Good story.

It is truly a captivating narrative that takes the reader on a journey filled with intense emotions. The amount of agonizing, over-thinking, and mental turmoil described makes it seem as if it could have been a Russian novel. George and John Robert, in particular, seem to fit right into the Karamozovs' neighborhood, with their complex personalities and inner struggles. However, what sets this story apart is that there is more or less a happy ending. This provides a glimmer of hope and a sense of resolution, which is a refreshing change from the often bleak and tragic endings of many Russian novels. Overall, it is a well-written and engaging story that keeps the reader hooked until the very end.

I have a genuine penchant for Iris Murdoch novels. Although I often find myself fretting over the similarities among several of her works, I still persevere. The moment I started this novel, that sense of familiarity began to nettle me. There is a group of relatively young characters with an ingenue-like quality, an older and highly respected master in a particular field, and inevitably, there are criss-crossing love triangles or quadrangles. So, going into it, I thought, well, this one will be similar to The Message to the Planet or Flight from the Enchanter or The Good Apprentice. However, it ended up being different from all these in several crucial aspects.

For instance, the finest of Iris Murdoch's novels are written in the first person. She is a virtuoso at crafting distinct narrative voices and enabling those voices to carry, shatter, obscure, or force their way through the novels. Novels like The Sea, The Sea, Under the Net, A Severed Head, and The Black Prince have these powerful, captivating, and sometimes even demonic narrators. This novel also features a curious and engaging narrator who doesn't truly reveal themselves until 50 pages in and serves as a mindful and conscientious guide through the plot.

The plot here is set in an English spa town not far from London. It's not renowned for having many famous people but is known for a health-cure institute. A revered philosopher is returning to the town. He left decades ago, isn't really friends with anyone, but has significant connections to various individuals in the town and a specific task he aims to work through. The novel, however, commences with a horrific car crash and a would-be drowning that stems from a vicious yelling match between George McCaffrey and his wife Stella. This accident then becomes a focal point for the town gossip and the narrative gaze. The entire novel doesn't revolve solely around this story, but it does originate from it.

As I mentioned earlier, I really liked this one. I will consider it as one of the top-tier Murdoch novels. I'm not as in love with it as I am with a few others, but it's a very strong novel that offers rewards at multiple junctures.

This book commences with a powerful impact, creating a sense of excitement and anticipation.

However, as the story progresses, for one or two hundred pages, very little of significance seems to occur. It feels as if the narrative has come to a standstill, with only loads of detailed description and rather painful character development to endure.

The detailed descriptions, while perhaps intended to add depth and authenticity to the story, can sometimes be overwhelming and make the reading experience feel a bit sluggish.

Similarly, the character development, although essential in building a connection with the readers, can at times be a bit of a struggle as it unfolds in a rather laborious manner.

But, despite all this, when the story finally picks up and gets rolling, it truly becomes great. The plot thickens, the action intensifies, and all the waiting and suffering seem to be well worth it.

For me, the overall experience of reading this book was a mixed bag, but in the end, I would say that the good outweighed the bad, and I would recommend it to others who are willing to be patient and persevere through the slower parts.

My favourite Iris Murdoch book so far is truly a remarkable piece of literature.

The location of Ennistone Spa town is nothing short of perfect for her unique brand of magic realism. It combines deep psychological and philosophical insights, creating a rich and thought-provoking narrative.

With a large cast of fascinating characters, each with their own complex personalities and motives, the story becomes even more engaging. They are all caught up in a fast-moving and captivating storyline that keeps the reader on the edge of their seat.

This location also allows Murdoch to reference and build on themes from Shakespeare, particularly The Tempest. By doing so, she adds another layer of depth and complexity to her work, making it a truly immersive and unforgettable reading experience.

Overall, this book is a testament to Iris Murdoch's talent as a writer and her ability to create a world that is both magical and real. It is a must-read for anyone who enjoys literature that challenges the mind and touches the heart.

SUMMARY - More watery escapades and lost faith, as Murdoch channels philosophical musing and George Eliot.

Several reviewers have commented on the 'bagginess' of this novel. It is indeed long. It has a deceptively compact temporal and locational compass that pivots on the public spa and typical U-MC family homes. Peter Conradi, writing soon after in 1986, saw this as a weaker effort compared to Murdoch's heyday from 1970 to 1980. For Conradi, the tangle of relationships tends to dilution. However, others have more positively compared it to George Eliot and have recognized the realism of a gossipy small town.

I tend towards the latter view. It possibly helped that I read 'The Philosopher's Pupil' on holiday, where I had the luxury of time and space of my own to absorb everything. Even so, Rosanov's brooding presence, George's character development, and the tussle for agency in all the characters were on a par with the best of Murdoch's 1970s novels. There was also less diminution in intensity and quality than I've experienced in some of Murdoch's weaker works.

This is a big book in every sense. It's not one I'd recommend to a Murdoch novice - if it had to be one, I would still say 'The Bell'. But if anything, I enjoyed this more than 1980's 'Nuns and Soldiers'. Unlike Conradi, I would say this was a continuation in form for mature-period Murdoch. Chunky and satisfying, it offers a rich exploration of human relationships, philosophical ideas, and the complex dynamics of a small town. The detailed characterizations and the intricate plot keep the reader engaged from start to finish.

Apparently, this is my ninth Iris Murdoch novel. It's as good a point as any to attempt to enumerate the reasons why I've made it through so many and intend to read many more. Let's talk about this one specifically to discuss her work in general.

This one is slightly longer than usual, clocking in at 550 pages. For at least the first hundred, I felt I was floundering in some third-tier Murdoch. I lost track of the immense cast (way more than usual) and was generally disheartened. But gradually, everything starts to come together. I got a handle on these ridiculous people and started enjoying myself.

To give you an idea of how many characters there are, here's a partial list:

- George McCaffrey, the pupil of the title.
- Stella, his wife.
- Diane, his mistress.
- Brian, his slightly younger brother.
- Gabriel, Brian's wife.
- Adam, Brian and Gabriel's young son.
- Zed, Adam's dog (a vital character, in all seriousness).
- Alex, George and Brian's mother.
- Ruby, Alex's maidservant.
- Tom, George and Brian's much younger half-brother.
- Emma (Emmanuel), Tom's male friend from university.
- John Robert Rozanov, the philosopher of the title.
- Hattie, Rozanov's granddaughter.
- Pearl, Hattie's paid companion.
- Father Bernard, the local unconventional priest.
- N, our otherwise unnamed narrator.

This covers the main players, but there are truly dozens of others. All of them are given more or less the same level of interiority and the same deft and detailed examination of their thoughts. This even includes the dog.

This is more or less the standard psychological/intellectual/philosophical inquiry one comes to expect from Murdoch. But what surprised me was the sheer breadth here, the polyphonic nature of it, and the sense of this town that gets built up, filled in, and shaken up with every added detail.

Things are set in motion by two basic plot sparks: George (the pupil) tries to drown his wife, and John Robert Rozanov (the philosopher), the town's favorite son, returns to the town, clearly to Do Something, though nobody knows what. These events cause everyone to interact in increasingly frantic ways, culminating in a very upper-class 'riot', multiple deaths, breathless declarations of love, getting lost in the bowels of the hot springs, and maybe, a flying saucer.

All of this is in line with the usual Murdoch themes of upper-class people ruining their lives through existential crises and/or not controlling their impulses. The narrative switches between long descriptions and evocations of various mental states and long passages of often unattributed dialogue. It's meandering, sometimes wryly funny, frequently melodramatic, and seriously interested in the serious question of how one should live one's life. It's filled with all the Murdoch elements I know and love, but also has strange and delightful differences. I wouldn't recommend starting with this one, but if you get to it, it has a lot to offer.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book, although it wasn't my absolute favorite among Murdoch's works.

Right from the start, she makes it clear that it is "N" who is narrating the story, which is centered around events in the town of Ennistone (notice the play on words - N's Town). I have mixed feelings about this particular device in this novel. On one hand, it's kind of funny how she so blatantly points to the made-up narrator and the fictional setting, drawing attention to the fact that it's a novel. But on the other hand, it can also be a bit annoying.

The narrator actually plays a relatively minor role in the events of the book. However, the setting is of utmost importance. It's a spa town just south of London, and the description of the town is truly amazing. She vividly描绘s the houses, neighborhoods, shops, pubs, and most significantly, the Institute, which is a spa with a natural hot spring. Iris Murdoch has a passion for swimming and all that comes with it, and this is evident in the numerous scenes set at the Institute and even one at the sea. Water is presented as both purifying and dangerous.

The book revolves around the philosopher, John Robert Rozanov, and his pupil, George McCaffrey, who reunite in Ennistone after years apart. They are both cantankerous old men, filled with anger and resentment, and have failed to achieve much in the realm of philosophy or in life in general. In the story, Rozanov rejected McCaffrey many years ago, and now McCaffrey is determined to try again to win the older man's favor. Of course, there are many more characters and subplots involving both the young and old members of these families and the community. I particularly liked the story of Tom, George's much younger brother, and Hattie, Rozanov's granddaughter.

I also found the role of animals in this book quite interesting. George's nephew, Adam, has a little dog named Zed, which is described as the embodiment of innocence. At one point, George rescues the lost little dog from the sea. The image of the rage-filled old man rescuing innocence is both heavy-handed and mysterious in its meaning within the story, at least to me. Additionally, in the garden of one of the family homes, there is a family of foxes. This reminded me of "Fleabag," a TV show that everyone seems to love except me. It made me feel rather uneasy. I suspect that Phoebe Waller-Bridge has read her Murdoch. In the show, the priest is followed around by a fox. I wonder what the meaning of the fox is. The first thing that comes up when you Google it is that the fox represents the priest's conflicted feelings about his celibacy and his emerging love for Fleabag. I'll assume that's also the meaning of the fox in "The Philosopher's Pupil."

As John Updike so aptly puts it in his blurb on the cover of the edition I have, "A book that seems as large as life, so large and various that no two people will read the same story in it." This truly sums up the complexity and richness of this novel.

I engaged in a significant amount of this activity yesterday, only to lose it to Goodreads, which keeps flickering.

The narrator states that he knows "Delphi is empty." Indeed, it is. The gods might as well be in Britain. The author playfully remarks, "If George was in a novel he would be a comic character." However, he isn't. The use of the term "semi-conscious will" implies that the author knows little about the unconscious will, which is distinct from the conscious will. When left to itself, the conscious will acts immaterially, for example, choosing one toothpaste over another. But when it's acting spiritually, it is ignorantly informed by the unconscious will, such as desiring one person over all others, who are otherwise interchangeable.

One can sense the animosity the philosopher has towards his pupil from his scathing criticism of the pupil's brother, Tom. "Who the fuck does he think he is!" (referring to the philosopher) crossed my mind and was promptly marginalized. It wouldn't require much psychological insight on Tom's part to realize that if he says he's going to a party, the crowd will follow. His use of this excuse to leave them is an example from the novel itself of the unconscious will acting through consciousness to achieve something, with the author using Tom as a guise. There are numerous hints of killing. Pearl's confession is wonderful. I liked the detail of "a piece of the cracked glass... fell out onto the lawn." "How innocent I once was and could have been made happy by this." "No more... older persons between her and the grave." George's teeth feature prominently. The fact that he "felt vaguely unwell and feverish" indicates that he was the one likely to die. Tch! She uses "burn" instead of "scald." I thanked God that "Tom McCaffrey was standing outside." Murdoch is so cheeky: she answers my initial question of how the narrator would know by saying he had "the assistance of a certain lady." That should mean a character in the book, but I'll settle for Murdoch herself. It's a brilliant way to justify the novel's rationale. With one mighty leap, she is free.

I read the introduction afterwards. It's a good analysis of her body of work. In quoting her, he repeats the misspelling of "pedlar," perhaps because the publisher is American. He may be wrong about murder and accidents. It's fairly clear that the first was an attempted murder, as was the last. What's interesting is that the would-be murderer can't remember what he did, meaning he did it unconsciously, preventing it from registering in conscious memory and providing plausible deniability. That's how your unconscious takes advantage of your conscious ignorance for your benefit. Maybe the introducer doesn't know this about himself.

After impression notes:

An in-depth examination of moral relativism and the shadowy aspects that lurk within it.

The character portraits presented are not only impactful but also incredibly real, breathing life into the story.

The connection between the characters and their settings is truly fantastic, creating a seamless and immersive world.

Each character seems to be a product of their environment, influenced by the moral ambiguities and shadows that surround them.

This exploration of moral relativism forces the reader to question their own beliefs and values, as they are confronted with the complex and often gray areas of morality.

The story delves deep into the human psyche,揭示 the hidden desires and fears that drive our actions.

It is a thought-provoking and engaging read that will leave a lasting impression on the reader.

Overall, the combination of impactful character portraits and the fantastic connection to the settings makes this a truly remarkable piece of work.

I knew Iris Murdoch was a writer with phenomenal power in explaining and expressing human typology.

However, I had no idea her books could be so powerful.

"The Philosopher's Pupil" surprised me in many ways, but by far the best thing about it were the characters.

Usually, my rating for a book is based on how good the action or plot was. In this book, I had to change my ways. I absolutely loved the characters. I especially enjoyed Tom, George, and Diane, even though they were not the only ones presented as important characters. Of course, I thought all of them were really well constructed. Even Ruby, who at first I thought was plain boring, grew on me. I liked some of the comparisons that took place in the book, as well as some parts of the drama involving the big and all-mighty philosopher, John Robert Rozanov. However, I thought his actions were a bit fake and his thinking a bit plain.

No worries, though. I had a very fine time reading this book. It made me think about human nature and relationships in a new way. The characters were so vivid and real that I felt like I was a part of their lives. I would highly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys a good character-driven story.

I wanted to read some Iris Murdoch, partly driven by a bit of nostalgia. However, what confronts you is how incredibly dated the characters are.

Especially the stereotypes of dominant males and submissive females falling hopelessly in love with them. It seems like a cartoon caricature now, just a few decades later.

This is such a pity. It must have already seemed dated in the 1980s as attitudes changed. Great literature doesn't age like this.

So, I suppose the sadness lies in discovering that, to some extent, Iris Murdoch's talents were wasted on transient nonsense, despite her straining for bigger truths.

The novel simply doesn't hold up anymore. What a pity. There are plenty of small parts that are attractive, but the whole fabric can't withstand being placed in the same light as more enduring classics.

These classics are marked by their time and yet timeless in their wisdom.