My First Encounter with Iris Murdoch's Novel

I have just embarked on reading my first Iris Murdoch novel.

As a former student of philosophy, I had been aware of her reputation in the past, and my interest was piqued by the intersection of philosophy and literature. What could be a more fitting starting point than "The Philosopher's Pupil"?

Moral philosophy pervades this book, manifested in diverse ways through a cast of memorable yet not always likable characters. Murdoch delves into the innermost workings of her characters' hearts and minds with incredible detail.

One might get the impression that she meticulously formulated each character, established the initial conditions, and then chronicled the history and consequences of their interactions as the story unfolds. However, this would do injustice to the masterful manner in which she weaves the story from such abundant raw material, as well as the way her characters develop and respond to events.

This is not an easy read, but it is rich in insights into the human condition. Unmistakably British in both setting and tone, it would still hold appeal for an international audience.

It offers a profound exploration of moral and philosophical themes, presented through a complex web of characters and their relationships.

Overall, it has been a captivating and thought-provoking experience so far.

On a journey this year to read all of Iris Murdoch, I have been continuously amazed. She truly never disappoints (well, almost never).

This particular work, which I consider her most operatic one so far, is incredibly dense. It is filled with a plethora of characters who are all intricately tied to one family in post-war Britain.

Just when you think you have a good understanding of the main characters, she surprises you by introducing new ones. However, it is well worth sticking with it.

There are numerous gems of philosophical truths hidden within this lengthy, yet completely rewarding mega soap opera. In fact, I firmly believe that someone should actually turn it into an opera.

I love Murdoch so much because she fearlessly delves into her emotions. She explores all the combustible angles of each emotion, carefully ties up their connections, delves into their symbolic meanings, and manages to find ways to make the foibles of all her characters universal.

I am eagerly anticipating the opportunity to encounter her next opus and discover what new literary treasures it holds.

Reading this again, I am once again struck by the unique charm of Murdoch's work. It may be a specialized taste, but I simply adore the singularity of her complex characters and their rich emotional lives. The story features a huge cast of characters, encompassing an entire town, with multiple complicated relationships at play. There is a wonderful blend of silliness and open-heartedness, as well as religious and philosophical speculation that adds depth and intrigue. It is truly an absorbing and enjoyable read, especially for anglophiles.

Murdoch's ability to create such vivid and multi-faceted characters is truly remarkable. Each one has their own distinct personality, motives, and flaws, making them feel like real people. The web of relationships between them is both intricate and believable, adding to the overall richness of the story. The moments of silliness provide a light-hearted touch, while the deeper themes of religion and philosophy offer food for thought.

Overall, this is a book that I would highly recommend to anyone who enjoys character-driven stories with a touch of depth and complexity. It is a testament to Murdoch's talent as a writer and is sure to leave a lasting impression on the reader.

Not all writers are given the ability to write equally well. And this is for the better.

Since not every reader will agree to read what someone considers a wonderful example of the artistic word. After all, some readers demand an engaging plot, while others prefer a hodgepodge. But strange things also happen with writers: today they write a book in one style, and a few years later - in a completely different one. And the reader, who was previously burned by getting to know the author or truly loved him, finds far from what he expected when reading again.

This is where the problem of literature lies - the impossibility of knowing in advance whether it is worth picking up a book to read. As for translations - that's a completely different story, because even a brilliantly written book can be spoiled by a person who does not have the same level of talent to convey the content of the work to the reader.

However, since the conversation has turned to the creativity of Iris Murdoch, it is doubtful that her literary works can save or destroy translators, because you cannot spoil what you need to approach with special caution. To put it simply, Murdoch wrote in a difficult-to-digest style, more lost in her own thoughts than allowing events to advance even a centimeter.

(c) Trounin