I’ve finally finished this one – the longest of her novels, surely, with my Vintage edition coming in at a round 600 pages. Yes, it’s baggy, and that’s about all the introduction really says, but I do so love this one and thank goodness it didn’t disappoint this time around. This book is notable for including the best animal in the whole of Murdoch’s oeuvre, and my favourite character in Murdoch. One of these is Grey the parrot, one of them isn’t.
There are spoilers in this review because there can’t not be, so don’t proceed unless you’ve read the book (please save it and come back to it, though!).
If you’re doing the readalong or even selected books along with me, or of course some time afterwards, do share how you’re getting on and which have been your favourites so far.
Iris Murdoch – “The Book and the Brotherhood”
(31 December 2018)
The premise is such an excellent and strong one, isn’t it. A circle of friends, all Left-leaning, decide to pay into a fund to keep one of them, Crimond, while he writes The Big Book of … well, of what? As the years wear on, everyone moves to the right, as it’s claimed that people do (maybe not Jenkin) and as Murdoch herself is recorded as doing, Crimond has messed with Duncan and Jean’s marriage twice now, most recently at the start of the book, when he claims her in a wild dance, an enchanter indeed, and the original circle wonders if they should keep supporting him. Meanwhile, several incidental cousins and aunts and hangers on are in orbit around the gilded circle, who are themselves linked by ties of sex, love and death. Yes, everyone seems to have a couple of houses and they don’t really have jobs as such, but their emotions are real and the book has a lot to say about friendship as well as love and lust.
Our themes are all here. We have an ancient scholar with a large head and wrinkly face in Levquist, and Duncan also provides us with a bear-like man with hunched shoulders. There is various mop-like women’s hair and of course the horrible dust bunny of Crimond’s red hair. Shockingly, we have a finished book with Crimond’s great work (which we never see except in the form of notebooks). This is only the second finished book in the oeuvre, I think, after Harry Cuno’s novel. Of course Gerard comes up with ideas but no book, and Levquist doesn’t appear to complete his “interminable book on Sophocles” (p. 20). There are stones scattered through the book, including Sinclair’s collection at Boyars, but individual ones, too, one of which is a present from Rose to Jenkin. Gerard has a soapstone seal and there’s a standing stone near Boyars.
Doubling is all over the place: two fathers die (Gerard’s and Crimond’s), Crimond runs off with Jean twice, the snails of course. Gerard makes two proposals, both of which are laughed at. Crimond puts people through two trials or duels, and causes Duncan to fall twice. Jenkin and Father McAlister both do a weird and non-standard blessing over Tamar. Echoings in Violet and Tamar’s access to abortion. We don’t have anyone staring in a window, but we have Gerard, “who disliked being looked in at by hypothetical entities in the garden” (p. 152). The only night time chase is when Rose tries to go over Crimond and nearly falls over on the frosty pavement. Water in all its forms is of course there, from ice to rain, and the pool in France where Duncan disposes of the bullet blanks.
Contingency looms large here – if Tamar hadn’t come round to see Jean … in fact about four characters have reasons to blame themselves for Jenkin’s death through long strings of causality and Rose says, “How accidental everything was” (p. 533). Being good is more shown than told, but I do love Rose’s simple statement when she at last displays actual emotion to Gerard:
Our lives are quite long enough to have some fun, do some work, love a few people and try to be good. (p. 562)
Crimond is fairly obviously the enchanter, having a weird effect on women other than Jean, with Lily drawn to prostrate herself embarrassingly in front of him and Rose so disturbed by his announcement that she has to hold herself firmly in check. Gerard thinks of him as a demon who comes around like Halley’s Comet. Who is the saint? Jenkin is the prime candidate here, isn’t he, absorbing everyone’s stories and emotions and not passing them on unless absolutely necessary, and even effectively giving his life for the group. It’s interesting that he’s looking into new branches of spirituality, and is also aware of a big change or challenge coming – these forebodings and portents were distressing, reading the book knowing what was coming. When crises hit, he doesn’t get involved but sends off postcards and is there to run to. His passivity reminds me of Tallis:
I think we shouldn’t wonder so much … sometimes we try to think in too much detail about other people’s lives. Other people’s consciousness can be so unlike our own. One learns that. (p.127)
Crimond says he’s the only person worth anything, “and he’s a fool” (p. 338) and Gerard’s view of him is so touching: “Gerard, seeing his back, the set of his shoulders, the particular way that the tail of his jacket was always so hopelessly crumpled, felt a wave of emotion which almost made him exclaim” (p. 357). And a vitally important point about him, remembered by Gerard, is that he was always giving people his attention, so key in Murdoch:
Jenkin always walked the path, with others, wholly engaged in wherever he happened to be, fully existing, fully reael at every point, looking about him with friendly curiosity. (p. 579)
Gerard’s father is yet another (portrait of IM’s father?) kind, saintly and self-effacing person, like Charles Arrowby’s, so another upper-generation saint.
Gerard in fact respected and approved of his father, saw the simplicity and truthfulness of his nature, but was used to finding these qualities invisible to others. His father was not brilliant or erudite or witty or particularly successful, he could seem mediocre and boring, yet Levquist, who despised mediocrity and ruthlessly refused to allow himself to be bored, had at once met Gerard’s father upon the ground of the latter’s best qualities. (p. 21)
… he began to think about his father, and what a gentle, kind, patient, good man he had been, and how he had given way, out of love, to his wife, sacrificing not only his wishes but sometimes even his principles. (p. 583)
Gerard himself has Japanese pictures which is usually a sign of saintliness, but he’s unfortunately become egocentric with the passing of the years (he’s very cross with himself when he assumes Tamar has run to find him, not Jenkin), and can’t be an enchanter really, more someone who connects people. Tamar has made a decision between being a saint and being a demon (p. 108) but in the end she’s an ordinary confused student, isn’t she, and she very much does not absorb people’s problems, however much they think she can and project their need onto her. Maybe she’s an enchanter in that aspect.
There isn’t much humour in this, apart from Gulliver’s social embarrassments (“Skating is a ruthless sport …” (p. 252), although I like the wryness of the little recaps, “As x was doing y, and a was doing b …” There’s also a wry bit about who knows what about whom out of Duncan and Jean. But it’s more a deeply ironic than a funny novel, I think.
The feminist notes I’ve been noticing this time round are there again. Lives are changed by legal access to abortion (even though Tamar has a private one, it’s legal now) and the right to choose, mentioned specifically. LIly gives an impassioned speech on the still-bad position of unmarried women in society (p. 329). Jean is said to have wasted her considerable power with Duncan (she doesn’t do much when she’s with Crimond, in fact being reduced to sewing in a corner):
She would go away and work and think, take counsel with her powerful father in America, discover some world to conquer, go to India or Africa, run some large enterprise, use up elsewhere all that restless clever power which, as his wife, she had wasted on happiness. (p. 76)
Tamar seems to experience sexual innuendo at her publisher’s office. And Duncan’s night with her seems very unpleasant this time round, especially as he indulges in a bit of victim blaming when going over his guilt: “Of course she started it … what a minx, what a temptress” (p. 232)Interestingly she doesn’t concentrate so much on women ageing now as men, with Gerard getting haggard and Duncan fat like a gross baby.
Reminders of other novels come in the influence of Levquist on his pupils, reminiscent of Rozanov in “The Philosopher’s Pupil”. Duncan goes through the ordeal of almost losing his eyesight, and physical ordeals have been prominent since “Nuns and Soldiers”. Gerard’s soapstone seal resembles Hattie’s in “The Philosopher’s Pupil” and Crimond likes to see Jean sewing in a corner, like Thomas and Midge in “A Good Apprentice” and someone else, I’m sure. There’s a stone in the wood near Boyars, like in “A Good Apprentice”, though no one goes to visit it. There are more birds, this time redwings with “little demonic faces and sharp probing beaks” (p. 277) and I feel I’ve missed a big bird theme (one for the next read!). There are foxes mentioned, too. Father McAlister joins a small coterie of priests without God. Rose is one of the several women who have had a servant in a big house since the servant was a girl. And finally, Gulliver, in the tradition of wanderers in London in IM, finds himself by the Peter Pan statue in Kensington Gardens when he’s trying to put the snail down somewhere kind.
Pleasingly, there are lovely actual overlaps with other novels, coming in very early on. Robin Topglass, an original member of the circle at Oxford, is stated to be “son of the birdman”, who must be Peter Topglass from “The Bell”. And the band playing at the opening party is The Waterbirds, which is the band formed in “A Word Child”. It would be hard to love these little mentions more! Marcus Field isn’t of course Marcus Vallar from “The Message to the Planet” but he has a “shocking conversion” and you do wonder if that’s the seed for the next book.
On re-reading this one, I didn’t as usual have so much sympathy with the younger generation as with the older one, although I felt more compassion for Tamar than I recall previously and certainly the detail of her disordered eating is presented very accurately and affectingly. Gulliver seems a really annoying fop this time round, with his over-described outfits (the introduction writer seems to think the outfit descriptions are a failing of the book, but I think they, as usual, show facets of characters). I really loved Rose this time round and very much cheered when things worked out as they did for her, a tiny detail I hadn’t recalled. Good for her, steadfast and keeping herself controlled.
A happy re-read, just as good as I remembered, baggy, yes, but satisfying as anything.
Please either place your review in the comments, discuss mine or others’, or post a link to your review if you’ve posted it on your own blog, Goodreads, etc. I’d love to know how you’ve got on with this book and if you read it having read others of Murdoch’s novels or this was a reread, I’d love to hear your specific thoughts on those aspects, as well as if it’s your first one!
If you’re catching up or looking at the project as a whole, do take a look at the project page, where I list all the blog posts so far.
Sep 26, 2019 @ 21:48:03
Another great review – thank you Liz. I always enjoy and am amazed at the energy and enthusiasm in your reviews. Yes, The Book and the Brotherhood is certainly a Master Baggie but very readable and in the last 80 pages or so I did not want it to finish.
This time I read it I was most intrigued by Levquist – he is a patriarchal almost godlike presence – and as Liz points out Iris Murdoch describes him graphically ‘ big, wrinkled,’ ‘he growled’. It makes me think of him as a large an ancient reptile or tortoise. Despite the destructive charisma of the magnificent Crimond, Levquist is the fulcrum and frames the start and Gerard hears of his death in the second last chapter of the novel. But I do not think he appears in the action although he is always there, like Guy at the beginning of Nuns and Soldiers binding the group and a sort of place from which the others started. He is one of Iris Murdoch’s émigré intellectuals who have lost family in the Holocaust. I like the way Iris Murdoch makes him a classicist who resents how his best classics students choose change their subject to philosophy – which seems like a reference to herself.
Gerard who loses his father at the beginning of the novel realises on hearing of Levquist’s death that he ‘had also been his father’ and that he had not gone to see him again as he promised at the meeting in the first chapter. Gerard missed the signals – not given attention to Levquist’s closeness to death and his observation that Gerard sought power rather than be an academic and do some real thinking. Now Gerard has lost Jenkin and realises he is alone. Gerard’s dark night of the soul is very moving but as usual Iris Murdoch always leaves me with some glimpse of the start of a way forward. It reminds me of another scene in Nuns and Soldiers where Anne Cavidge has a rather inconclusive encounter with Christ, in which she is made to understand that she cannot be saved by Christ – she must do it all herself. Gerard has lost Sinclair and the master figures of his father, Levquist and Jenkins and he is bereaved but also has a terrible freedom to find his place in the world and start his pilgrimage like Jenkins to a different state of being. This passage and the image of the parrot and the book in his dream/ vision reminds me of William Blake.
The novel is so much about death and loss, I also felt Rose was a warm hearted person who offers chocolate biscuits and lots of wine and food and as Gerard acknowledges ‘Rose is happiness – only it’s never worked out like that’.
There is no doubt that it is a big book and one that repays reading as there are so many strands to it and so many details to enjoy as well as some quite gripping drama such as the terrible car crash/suicide pact. The Oxford Ball which starts the book is written in such a way that the reader feels they are there, moving around from scene to scene as it goes through its stages, from the tentative entries of the characters, the grouping, the tensions of the partnering and the partings, the dancing and getting drunk and the remorse of the morning after and poor Tamar being abandoned by Conrad and going home with a broken sandal and without her shawl. And all the while, things are happening which are going to change the lives of the individual characters. Well spotted, Liz, to recognise the Waterbirds from the Word Child – it is nice to know they are getting some good gigs!
I cannot agree that there are too many descriptions of the clothes – Iris Murdoch does it very well with an amazing for the beauty of detail, colour and texture and in my opinion this is one of the most enjoyable things in her books. I would love Lily’s baggy orange trousers, and the clothes often indicate mood and the intention of the character – it is obvious Jean in her red dress is heading for trouble and Crimond’s kilt sets him apart as he dances like Shiva.
So, I cannot say this is one of my favourites but certainly well worth making the effort.
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Sep 30, 2019 @ 16:38:43
So glad you found this worth the effort, phew! And your comment are spot on as always. Levquist is a kind of centre of the novel and of course he’s also a father who dies, so that’s a tripling. I agree with you about the clothes, too!
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Sep 28, 2019 @ 19:43:19
Liz, so much to unpack in this one and yet again when writing a Goodreads review I feel both that I can’t give away too much plot detail to spoil the delight of reading it yourself or really get into the many layers or strands, as Maria says, that run throughout the book. As always I enjoyed your review, especially about the accidental nature of events and the focus on the feminism in the novel, I kept having to remind myself when the book was actually written.
This was a favorite for me in large part I think because of all the women’s voices in it and how appealing most of them were, or in the case of Violet, at least entertaining if also frustrating. I also found the male characters sympathetic to varying degrees, even Crimond, distraught at the end not only because Duncan failed to kill him but because he killed the endearing Jenkin who was so loved . Gideon was a pushy egotist but at least got Tamar away from Violet and back to Oxford and Gerard has lost and loses so much more in the novel it’s hard to dislike him too much for his ignorance where Rose is concerned.
You are so right about Rose, she was my favorite too especially in the scenes at Boyars, I always love Murdoch’s descriptions of these big old houses in the country sometimes with an faithful old retainer in the background. Lily was endearingly scatty and my heart broke for Tamar when she has the abortion and could only hope she rose from the ashes of that event. Jean seemed to be more of a promoter of drama than of interest in herself but still was far more realized and independent than some of Murdoch’s female characters.
So, despite its heft I found this immensely enjoyable and can’t believe there are only three more to go to complete my first read through of Murdoch’s body of work.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2993776780?book_show_action=false
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Sep 30, 2019 @ 16:37:05
Loved your review and also your Goodreads one, thank you. I’m so glad you enjoyed this one and seemed to get out of it what I get out of it myself. I really like the points you make about their brotherhood and pacts, and lines in the sand. Jenkin is, of course, my favourite character in the whole of IM and I liked him even more this time. Fortunately he has more time in the book than I’d quite remembered!
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Sep 29, 2019 @ 23:05:37
Thank you, Liz, for another splendid summary of the themes of this book! I agree it has a marvelous premise, one of her best, with its brotherhood of individuals drifting from their youthful liberal idealism while continuing to support a member whose philosophy is evolving perhaps dangerously in the opposite direction. With his radical philosophical book that has been under development for decades, I am reminded of Casaubon interminably writing or failing to write his Key to All Mythologies in Middlemarch (another book of youthful idealists who are checked by reality); so even on my third read I was in a bit of suspense about whether he would actually finish the book.
I like Maria’s take on Levquist as the “fulcrum” and “frame” of the book. I love the way his students pay him homage at the ball and how he treats each of them differently. And each time I read the ball scene, I seem to focus on something different. I remember the first time I read it, I felt so bowled over by the many different characters and plot strands that I had to re-read the first fifty pages of the novel. The second time I read the book, I wondered why I’d found that passage so difficult. This time I just loved the way she winds almost all the characters in the book through the lawns and pavilions, giving you bits and pieces of their stories on the way as they find and lose each other. And I want to add my admiration of the clothes descriptions to Liz and Maria’s. This time the description of Lily’s outfit at the ball, her “baggy orange silk trousers” that Maria mentioned, “drawn in at the ankle by spangled bands,”, and her “purple sash” struck me as a great way to delineate this flashy and somewhat exotic outsider. (Indeed, aside from Crimond’s kilt and Tamar’s missing shawl, it may be the only other ball costume described in any detail.) Here is a bold character whose force of personality could, with perhaps good intentions, sway a confused and tentative Tamar into a decision she might regret.
Like Jo, I love the scenes at Boyars, especially the skating scene where Lily (who I guess became more of a focal point for me this time) surprises Gulliver by failing to live down to his expectations. One of the more purely comic scenes in the novel. And as Jo mentions, the many women’s voices in the novel are quite appealing for the most part. There seems to be a gentler hand with many of her characters in this novel and her later novels in general. Even the enchanter figures seem more rounded. If Crimond is the primary enchanter of this novel, he is a far different one from Julius from AFHD. Julius may be somewhat shaken by the results of his manipulations, but he remains cool and does not attempt to take responsibility. Crimond shows tears.
Perhaps because of her generosity to these characters, this book always seems to come out in my top three favorites and at one time it was number one. I love it because I can feel Murdoch evaluating her own past and wanting to say something important about her entire generation. To me it is a book that only becomes more relevant with time. The threat of terrorism, with which Crimond’s philosophy is possibly aligned, has only become more global since 1987. But it is about so much more. I hope many generations to come will continue to read and enjoy this dramatic, disturbing, and thought-provoking work.
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Sep 30, 2019 @ 16:40:16
I think it’s still in my top three, too, or top five. Let’s do a top x discussion at the end! I agree it’s a generous and warm novel, everyone has a reason for their behaviour and it is more nuanced. I was reminded of Casaubon, too, with the book pulling together “everything”!
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“The Book and the Brotherhood” round-up and “The Message to the Planet” preview #IMReadalong @IrisMurdoch | Adventures in reading, running and working from home
Sep 30, 2019 @ 17:26:17
Sep 30, 2019 @ 19:50:18
I do like Peter’s comparison to Casaubon – I had never thought of that but it is just right. Come to think of it there are a lot of Casaubons and their hapless admirers in Iris Murdoch’s fiction. I was interested in Jo’s observation on the women characters – Iris Murdoch was always away ahead of her time in examining the conflicts and roles imposed on women as well and in dealing with issues such as sexuality and desire in a humane and honest way.
I remember when I read this one the first time being overwhelmed by the characters and continually have to go back to the first chapter as well as make diagrams. It is an effort to get to know them but it repays in enjoyment and on subsequent readings I can relate to them from the start and concentrate on all the new things I did not notice last time. I must admit this is not one of my favourites but I enjoyed it more this time. I agree it is a gentler book and quite a wistful one.
Also as well as Grey, I rather have a soft spot for Mousebrook the mauve cat!
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Oct 01, 2019 @ 06:16:05
On Casaubon, I’ve often thought that but I’m not sure I’ve expressed it. Coming back to the book a fourth time it’s more an “Ah, yes, there they all are” which makes the case for re-reading! Interesting that you liked it more the second time round, too. I love Mousebrook though was sad he was out of sorts the last time Rose was down. But then Anushka was out of hospital and I’m sure they were both fine.
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Oct 01, 2019 @ 04:27:58
Peter, I think your point about Murdoch being gentler to her characters in these later novels is part of the reason I am enjoying them so much. Someone like Julius does make it hard to truly love a novel however brilliant it is in other ways. I was also utterly confused at the beginning of the book when name after name is introduced but persevered knowing all would fall into place and I’d forgotten about the skating scene, that and the fireworks were two of my favorites. Despite its size, this was a book I just wanted to savor.
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Oct 01, 2019 @ 06:17:05
Wonderful to read! I loved the set pieces in this. You’ve done so amazingly to work your way through them all for the first time – I’ll be so interested to hear your thoughts on the process in December!
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Oct 09, 2019 @ 21:34:47
Now that I’ve finally written my response I will come by and read your review (& the others) & hopefully have something intelligent to say by the weekend!
A little sad that this is the last Murdoch on my TBR shelf. Thanks for hosting this wonderful event Liz – I may never have made it through The Sea The Sea if not for you.
http://bronasbooks.blogspot.com/2019/10/the-book-and-brotherhood-by-iris-murdoch.html
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Oct 10, 2019 @ 08:02:24
I liked your review a lot and have linked to it on my round-up page, thank you for the alert, too. And I’m glad you’ve enjoyed your foray – do you think you would read more IM if you came across the books in your travels? I’m glad I helped you through The Sea, The Sea – you’ve read some of the big ones!
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Oct 28, 2019 @ 10:50:15
Yes I will probably read more IM – I know longer feel intimidated by her! But half the fun was reading with you 😊
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Oct 28, 2019 @ 10:56:48
Well, it should feel like reading with me if you know there’s a review ready there to read when you finish, right? And also if you let me know you’re reading one I’m always happy to be there to answer questions or give hints on what to look out for!
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Apr 02, 2020 @ 17:56:43
There is so much to lobe about this novel. The way the first chapter frames everything else that happens in the rest of the novel. The intimate portrayal of friendships evolving, maturing and sometimes tearing as the characters mature, at least grow older. And I agree with Liz that the humour is sardonic rather than ‘funny’.
I had two distinct but connected drawbacks, which I also had with previous novels, especially The Philosopher’s Pupil. The first is that I found the enchanter pretty un-enchanting and struggles to understand how he could exercise such a magnetic force on the characters around him. The second is that, at a few points, the ‘big P philosophy’ elements of the novel became a little too explicit. I felt that the characters’ evolving viewpoints were more subtly portrayed through interior monologues or less obviously political discussions. When Murdoch was ‘showing rather than telling’.
That said, another great late-career Murdoch classic. By this point, she was producing a major novel every two and a half years, roughly, in addition to smaller works, essays and non-fiction. Astonishing.
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Apr 05, 2020 @ 09:15:31
Another interesting review and it’s lovely to have seen you working your way through them all. This is a classic, isn’t it, and has two of my favourite characters.
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