Iris Murdoch, one of my favorite British authors, masterfully unravels the complex and multifaceted nature of love and how it can lead to various forms of violence that us human beings are capable of. In her fifth novel, "A Severed Head," the story begins with Martin Lynch-Gibbon spending a lazy afternoon with his mistress Georgie in her apartment, reflecting on his life. For Martin, committing adultery doesn't mean his love for his wife Antonia lessens. However, when he returns home after a wonderful conversation with Georgie, Antonia reveals a shocking confession that sends Martin running. This marks the start of a dizzying, tangled, and highly entertaining relationship that is a standout in modern fiction.

The novel explores themes such as decisions, hatred, revenge, lack of self-control, and other sobering aspects that might make it seem depressing at first. But Murdoch's skillful writing and keen observations manage to keep the story highly entertaining and thought-provoking. It contains some of the most profound conversations about human relationships, their absurdities, and how doing nothing can cause trouble while doing something might make matters worse. Through these realizations, I gained a better understanding of what is right and wrong. In any situation, the incorporation of reasoning, especially psychoanalysis, can make things seem more normal and acceptable.

Murdoch also entertainingly illustrates the era of the 1960s revolution in values and sexual ethics. The novel is filled with a diverse cast of characters, and it's easy to remember them all as they are uniquely portrayed and deeply constructed. Filled with violence, surprise, melodrama, and tragedy, along with her prose that has a poetic touch and quotable dialogue, "A Severed Head" makes other novels with similar themes seem uninteresting. The question "Are we all that vulnerable and subject to temptation?" continuously pops into my head as I read.

This novel is not only one of my personal favorites from the author but also one of my all-time favorite novels. It is included on the prestigious list of 1001 Books You Must Read before You Die. Additionally, it has been adapted into a 1970 film with the same title, and Iris Murdoch herself adapted the book for the stage in 1963, which had an impressive run of 1,073 performances. The opening sentence, "You're sure she doesn't know," said Georgie, immediately draws the reader in, and the ending sentence, "So must you, my dear!" leaves a lasting impression.

Iris Murdoch presents an amazing perspective on marriage, loyalty, and a social view of these theories.

The story, which begins with a classic deception, lays out all the combinations that could occur in such a drama, pulling you into places where you reach a point where you can no longer be surprised by anything.

The author prepares such surprises that it makes it impossible for you to empathize with any character. Throughout the book, the character you are familiar with for his/her arrogant behavior and condescending look can become someone you feel sorry for after a certain point.

It's a very different book. Although I'm not as much of a fan as I am of "The Web" or "The Bell," I still liked it.

("The woman sitting with a samurai sword in the darkness of the night, I will never forget you.")

Like Martin, I find myself in a state of confusion. I embarked on this book almost incidentally and completed it under compulsion. The writing is truly remarkable, but it's the plot that leaves me in a quandary.

In an early scene, when a sword makes its appearance, I couldn't help but wonder whose head would meet its sharp edge. Chekhov would have insisted that the sword serve a purpose, and the title seemed to hint at how. Now, I believe that the severed head symbolizes the vast distance between the intellectual perspective and the reality of human comedy, tragedy, or whatever genre it may be. It could also represent the process of detaching one's reason from morality. Somehow, this is intertwined with psychoanalysis, specifically the psychoanalysis of the 60s when this was published. Perhaps Judaism is also implicated in this separation, symbolizing a disturbing foreignness, an ugly reality that must constantly be evaded through convention, alcohol, or denial. Honor Klein seems at home in this chaos (if she can be said to be at home anywhere), but who else would be willing to join her? Will civilization prevail over its discontents?

When Georgie's hair appears in a box, I suspected that her head couldn't be far behind. Honor Klein (whose name always reminds me of a combination of Anna Freud and Melanie Klein) describes herself as a severed head later in the book, meaning it as an object used in divination by alchemists, an object of fascination yet always alien. She always seems unknown, never reacting in a conventional manner, making it impossible to consider her in a worldly context. A relationship with her would not be about happiness in the way a worldly relationship would be.

If it turns out that the sword is never actually used (I don't want to spoil this), since it appears as a symbol in dreams and elsewhere, the idea of it is utilized, so Chekhov couldn't complain. (In Iris Murdoch's The Bell, the idea of the bell is also frequently employed, and when it is said to predict death, I constantly wondered who would die.)

Martin wouldn't know what to think because his thinking is severed from his feeling. Martin spends most of the book avoiding actual choices and actions. When he does make decisions, other than those forced upon him, it's usually under the pretext of being drunk, and they are often violent. For much of the plot, he is either submitting to humiliations or plotting to escape from them. In the end - well, you'll have to read it and see if you know what to say.

My first encounter with Iris! And it was truly fucking sublime.

Her work is merciless, mordant, rigorous, hilarious, and relatively brief. It had such an impact on me that it made me eager to read everything she penned. However, it didn't make me want to endure that rotten movie again.

I know I will never manage to read everything she wrote. Maybe I'll read two or more of her works, hopefully while embarking on a hike through the beautiful Lake District. At the moment, I don't have any specific plans to do so.

Can anyone out there recommend other hidden gems from her oeuvre? This is yet another book that fills me with the desire to be the author. Although, I would prefer to choose the time - before the onset of Alzheimer's. When the mind was so sharp, so limitless, and so unfettered.

This book is truly a wow, and it has a gasp-inducing roar-with-joy plot twist that leaves you breathless.

As it turned out, the plot of A Severed Head is extremely distant from me.

We are presented with dull marriages that seem to lack any spark or excitement. The characters engage in infidelity out of sheer boredom, believing that life should be lived for what they think is their own pleasure.

Murdoch's characters continuously find themselves entering new relationships, desperately seeking a way to drown out the emptiness that plagues their souls. They expectantly hope that their new lover will be the one to fill that missing piece, to bring meaning and fulfillment to their otherwise unfulfilling lives.

After all, being a wealthy Englishman in this fictional world isn't as easy as it may seem. The pursuit of pleasure and the search for true connection often lead them down a path of confusion and disappointment.

The story serves as a reminder that material wealth and superficial relationships may not be enough to satisfy the deepest longings of the human heart.

Years ago, I delved into Iris Murdoch's The Sea, The Sea. I recall having a genuine liking for it, yet curiously, the story details have eluded my memory. I vividly remember the setting where I read the majority of the book. It was on the porch of my new boyfriend's house, in the gliding chair we had just purchased together. But that's the only connection I have with that particular book. For a long time, I've intended to read something else by her, or perhaps even re-read The Sea, The Sea.

One of my book groups on Goodreads decided to read A Severed Head. I thought, given the chaos in my life, this would be a perfect opportunity to pick up a book completely unrelated to my current obligations. And so, I gave it a go.

The book read surprisingly quickly. I never felt it was a chore to pick it up. While some in my book group were disappointed with the story, especially the characters, I found it to be an over-the-top yet enjoyable read. Satire in fiction usually doesn't work for me, but I actually picked up on some of it in Murdoch's novel. Maybe I missed a lot, but I found myself chuckling at certain events.

This story is one where all the characters are rather reprehensible, but that didn't deter me. Yes, they were ridiculous, made poor choices, and treated each other badly. However, I also found their relationships fascinating, especially considering the incestuous nature of how small groups of friends often interact.

The title, A Severed Head, intrigued me. It sounded gruesome, but the story wasn't gruesome in that sense. Throughout the text, there were several occasions that related to the title. For example, Martin, the narrator, views women as objects. Honor Klein, his best friend's half-sister, becomes an important character. The relationships between the characters are complex and convoluted. Martin is married to Antonia but is having an affair with Georgie. His best friend, Palmer, starts an affair with Antonia, and then there's the mystery surrounding Honor. How it all ends may or may not be a surprise.

The possession Martin feels for his "objects" is also quite interesting. I'm not sure what it says about me that I enjoyed the complications in this novel and the way the characters made their lives more difficult than necessary. I found the characters superficial and vapid on the surface, but there was also a layer of complexity beneath. I'm not sure if Murdoch intended for that, but I believe these characters are more complex than they initially seem.

I'm glad I read this book. It has reminded me to go back as an older reader and give The Sea, The Sea another try to see if it sticks better in my memory the second time around. Whether I will or not remains to be seen, but I will definitely be reading more by Murdoch.

This is truly a delightful book.

The dialogue within it is sharp and engaging, immediately capturing the reader's attention. The convoluted relationships and affairs that exist among the small group of characters are both complex and fascinating, effectively drawing you into the story.

The author demonstrates great psychological astuteness, offering keen observations on the motives and reactions of the characters with a touch of wit and irony. There are numerous places in the story that are so humorous that I couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Near the final revelations of betrayal, the dialogue reaches a level of hilarity that had me stopping reading to catch my breath because I was laughing so hard. This is an extremely rare experience for me, and it just goes to show how truly special this book is.

It is a must-read for anyone who enjoys a well-written, entertaining story with memorable characters and clever dialogue.

A Strange Satire on Love: 'A Severed Head'

This is a strange yet highly engaging satire that delves into the contrast between who we're supposed to love and who we actually do. It's my sixth Murdoch novel, and I believe it's an excellent choice for book clubs or newcomers, considering how much it covers in just over 200 pages.

Love Triangle

Similar to 'Under the Net', we have a male narrator here. It's Martin Lynch-Gibbon, 41, the son of a wine merchant, writing a work of military history. He's been married to Antonia, five years his senior, for 11 years. Martin also has a mistress, 26-year-old Georgie Hands. The excitement of having both these appealing women is irresistible, but he senses that his precariously balanced life is about to explode.

Love Quadrilateral

Antonia returns from her psychoanalysis appointment acting strangely. She soon confesses to Martin that she's passionately in love with her therapist, Palmer Anderson, who is half-American and has been Martin's friend for years. They agree to part amicably. Martin goes to talk with Palmer, who uses Freudian talk to convince Martin that Antonia is more of a mother figure due to their age gap. It's all very civilized.

Love Hexagon?

We meet Martin's brother Alexander and sister Rosemary when he goes to Rembers, the family estate in the Cotswolds, for Christmas. It seems Alexander has always been somewhat in love with Antonia. After lovely scenes of the snow and a family Christmas, another character enters the scene: Palmer's sister, Honor Klein, whom Martin picks up from Liverpool Street station. She's cool, a bit domineering, and skilled with a samurai sword. Martin is smitten. But wait until he visits her in Cambridge...

As the members of this small group fall in and out of love, Murdoch explores numerous profound ideas and themes. With a samurai sword around, one wonders if it will be used violently like Chekhov's gun. At the very least, it's a phallic symbol, appearing in dreams along with blood, which is symbolized by the red wine often consumed and sometimes spilled in the novel. The title makes me think about what happens when the mind and body become detached and desire different things. There are also many references to ancient superstitions and taboos: the cuckold's horns, the Oedipal impulse, and the rituals around the oracular voice.

With all the scenes of people bursting into a room and declaring their love for someone else, and Martin moving his belongings back and forth, this is like a comic play. It's one of the few Murdoch novels to be adapted for the theatre or cinema, and it's easy to see why: it has a theatrical, fast-paced storyline, and Murdoch even deliberately references "actors in a play" and "the drama." Martin's sense of helplessness is also compared to feeling fated to play one role in life, whether he likes it or not. It's a very visual novel too, with objects and colors taking on significance, which I'm sure influenced A.S. Byatt.

A couple of small things bothered me: the overemphasis on describing Honor's features as Jewish, and the overall lack of attention given to Georgie. But on the whole, I really enjoyed this novel, especially Martin's three versions of the same apology letter, and the fact that Palmer almost always appears in his dressing gown. In a 2017 year-end recommendation for Sally Rooney's 'Conversations with Friends', I saw it compared with 'A Severed Head', and I can see why: the love quadrilateral, the blend of tragic and comic themes, and the perhaps overly optimistic ending. Both are well worth reading.

My favorite snippet of dialogue:

(Martin) “‘We’ve been happy. I want to go on being happy.’

‘Happy, yes,’ said Antonia. ‘But happiness is not the point. We aren’t getting anywhere. You know that as well as I do.’

‘One doesn’t have to get anywhere in a marriage. It’s not a public conveyance.’”

Originally published on my blog, 'Bookish Beck'.

A satirical delight indeed! I found myself giggling uncontrollably throughout the final one-third of this book. Murdoch's story was masterfully stitched together.

A Severed Head is the inverted satire of Updike's deadly serious (at least to himself) Couples. It's as if she could have inscribed the book: "Dedicated to Mr. Updike's Ego." While Updike's Piet is the casual and harmless predator of the suburbs, Murdoch's Martin is the hapless and cucked scavenger. Where Updike's players are true-blue Americans, caught up in their lust and emotional seriousness, Murdoch's are like priapic dogs, chasing each other's tails. And where Updike's writing is judgmental grinning, wrapped in gorgeous prose, Murdoch's is penetrating philosophical insight, orgasmically joyful in its abundant release.

Irish Murdoch is quickly catching up to Ali Smith in my personal "smarter-than-everyone-joy-to-read-funny-as-hell writers" party of one.

*p.s. - I still love Couples.

My first encounter with Murdoch's work was this one, and it was truly very entertaining.

It was humorous, with a well-developed plot that was full of unexpected twists and turns. "A Severed Head" delved deep into the complex themes of relationships, love, and lust. It made the reader constantly question the motives of every character.

The way Murdoch crafted the story was masterful, keeping the reader engaged from start to finish. I found myself completely immersed in the world she created.

I suspect that in due course, I'll be picking up another one of her novels. I'm eager to see what other literary gems she has in store. Overall, I'd rate this book a solid 3 out of 5.

It wasn't perfect, but it had enough elements to make it an enjoyable read and leave me wanting more.

This book, "A Severed Head", is a comical bedroom farce. The characters within it shift from looking ridiculous in one moment to pitiful in the next.

The narrator, Martin, a 40-something London wine merchant, starts the novel by boastfully discussing his love for both his mistress and his wife. However, he's about to face the consequences as his wife, Antonia, soon tells him she wants a divorce. Not only has the cheater been cheated on, but Antonia has also been seeing Martin's close friend Palmer - a double betrayal.

The plot continues to twist and turn as the story progresses, and it wouldn't be fair to the reader to reveal all the surprises. The book had me laughing at the absurdity of all the bed-hopping. Written in the early 1960s, it clearly bridges the gap between the sexual repression of the 50s and the free-love attitude of the 70s. The characters seem eager to explore their sexuality, but only within their small social set of the same six people.

Various topics such as nascent homosexuality (does Martin have an erotic attraction to Palmer?), abortion (Martin's mistress has unresolved grief from a previous abortion), and incest are touched upon. However, for me, the farcical nature of the book was overshadowed by the "frightfulness" and "ruthlessness" of the characters. Just when they seem to experience normal human emotions, their emotions do a complete about-face, and they become reprehensible again. There's an endless cycle of power games, manipulation, self-delusion, deceit, and betrayal.

I think what dissatisfied me the most was that there wasn't anyone I could root for. Each character alternates between being a victim and a perpetrator, between acting like an ass and looking worthy of sympathy. They use and discard each other but can't seem to break away. Even Martin's obsessive attraction to Honor Klein (his wife's boyfriend's half-sister) is both coltish and icky.

I think if I had felt more connected to the author's writing style, I could have overlooked the absurdity of the plot and characters. And if I had liked the characters more, I could have tolerated not enjoying the writing style. But the combination of not being attracted to either left me without more affection for the book. I don't mean to imply that I think Murdoch is a bad writer - it's just a matter of personal taste. This was the first book by Murdoch that I've read, and I'm not sure if I'll have the desire to read any more.

“A person doesn't have to reach a certain point in marriage. Marriage is not a means of transportation used jointly.”

As we learn about some things that happen to the character who thinks he is living a happy and prosperous life in his own life, you say that it couldn't be better. Moreover, it gets even better.

No matter what I write as a spoiler, read it and let's talk.

Expanded version:

“A person doesn't necessarily have to reach a specific milestone in marriage. Marriage is not like a common means of transportation that is used jointly. It is a complex and unique journey for each individual.”

As we come to know about some of the events that occur in the life of the character who believes he is leading a happy and prosperous life, we find ourselves thinking that it couldn't possibly be any better. However, as the story unfolds, we realize that there is even more to come.

But I don't want to give away too many spoilers. So, I encourage you to read the story for yourself and then we can have a discussion about it. There are many interesting aspects and twists that I'm sure you'll enjoy discovering on your own.