3.5 starsNot sure where to start with this one. Here's what I liked: some of the characters, especially the Cliftonians Aleph, Sefton, and Moy; I loved their old-fashioned nature. I enjoyed the focus on a group of people rather than on any one particular person. I liked the "main" drama regarding Peter Mir and Lucas. In short, I didn't find it hard to be interested in these people and their lives. I found that the book was less about what happened than how the characters experienced it--the inner turmoil humans feel regarding things like loss of innocence, guilt, disappointment, depression, love, and spirituality. This is the first Murdoch I've read, but it seems that her other work is similarly focused. However, I also had some serious issues with this story, not least of which is the time period. Various references place this book somewhere in the 1980s. But much of the dialogue, mannerisms, dress, and even modes of communication are indicative of a much earlier time--I was envisioning somewhere perhaps in the 30s-40s. If you want to have old-fashioned characters, fine. But there must be an awareness of the fact that they are old-fashioned, and that was lacking here. Furthermore, this may have been more excusable had the setting been a remote village somewhere in the countryside where change comes slowly, but we are led to believe that this is taking place in London, of all places.Second thing--it bothered me right off the bat that within this familial group of people, the children (albeit mostly grown) seem to be such good pals with their parents' friends, even considering the fact that they are more like aunts and uncles than mere acquaintances. The children are more or less seen as peers--and marriageable peers at that. It was just very strange, and once again, would have been a bit more acceptable in an earlier time period and in a more rural area... but certainly not in London in the 80s.(Spoilers ahead, so stop here if you need to)Finally, there was an awful lot of interesting drama that just sort of fizzled out by the end, and all of a sudden the book was about people marrying who they'd been in love with all along (or realizing that, you know what, it's all okay after all). Which is sort of nice, but left so much to be desired. I wanted to know more about Peter Mir. I wanted to know who the woman sobbing hysterically in Tessa's bathroom was (maybe I missed something, but seriously what was that about?). I wanted to know if Clement ever tells Louise that yes, Lucas was actually trying to kill him, because by the end she's still a bit hazy on this point. All the same, I think I'd like to read more Murdoch, as I did enjoy her style and the various influences and symbolism present (i.e. philosophy, literature, history), and I even liked the sort of supernatural elements, but maybe some of her earlier work, since her writing seems to be stuck in the past anyway.
Murdoch brings together a wide net of characters who are as enjoyable as they are irritating and often enough enjoyable because they are irritating. She weaves this cast around the pliable structure of the Sir Gawain and the Green Knight story. But this book does not only draw from the Arthurian tale, but from paintings and other sources of art, using ekphrasis as a mode of story telling. The use of art in the story is not without examination. For instance, one scene recreates the Leda and the Swan myth by having a character get attacked by a swan. Later, Peter Muir, the source of much tension in the novel, fascinated by the story, casually notes the similarity of her attack to the myth. While I haven't quite pinned down Murdoch's choices for bringing a dialogue of art into the story, her use of ekphrasis seems like a worthy point of scrutiny. While I'm still sorting out the ekphrastic dialogue, I do think that much of the story telling invites thinking about the narrative in terms of art, myth, and artifact--much of Bellamy's character is revealed through epistolary passages written to a monk. Reading these, I remember thinking-- if only Bellamy would read his own letters, he would understand his issues and frustrations better and stop making such misguided choices. Further, the reader is often as much at the whim of the characters' hasty conclusions, gossip, and the assumptions and fears running through their brains as they themselves are. While character's thoughts, fears, and imaginings are not exactly examples of art they do draw parallels to it by creating waves and narratives the way art does in this story: creating both elaborate fantasies and truths. It is also interesting to note that the characters most closely related to art, whether they draw our attention to it or are artists, are also the closest to the magical elements of the story.
What do You think about The Green Knight (1995)?
An unforgettable book by a brilliant author. But how to describe it? I can't do better than begin with this from another Goodreads reviewer: "Clement is in love with Louise. Louise's husband is dead. Everyone thinks Moy is in love with Clement, but she is in love with Harvey. Harvey thinks he's in love with one sister, but he's actually in love with another sister. One sister is in love with Lucas. Lucas is Clement's brother. Lucas tried to kill Clement. But he actually killed Peter Mir. Only, Peter Mir isn't dead! Peter Mir is our beloved Green Knight, beheaded but still among the living. Who is Sir Gawain? Was there ever really a Gawain?" This book has all the trappings and "feel" of a medieval visit to faerie-land, but is set in something resembling 1990's London, where a private house ("Clifton") stands in for an enchanted castle. Three princesses live there (very Greekly named Alethea, Sophia, and Moira, but who hate their names and so call themselves Aleph, Sefton, and Moy). Visitors come and go, falling under each other's spells. A preternaturally wise dog is named Anax, the Greek word used in the Iliad to describe Agamemenon. Each sister is eccentric in her own way, as is every other character in the book. Magic, fate, and other-worldly significance are everywhere, all easily discountable by the literal-minded reader as mild insanity, coincidence, and over-thinking. The novel is loosely based on the medieval poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, but with touches of Cain and Abel, much classical mythology (there is even an attack on a young virgin by a swan), and the Holy Spirit (or at least an angelic presence) often seems to be hovering nearby. There is a happy conclusion reminiscent of a Shakespearian comedy, where no character, however minor, is safe from matrimony. It got a little repetitious for my taste, as characters had multiple struggles to understand each other's motivations; but nevertheless an unforgettable experience. When disaster seems to strike (as it does several times in the course of the book) you feel that something fully solid and real in in danger of toppling into ruin. An amazing read.
—Jon
I'm still not sure what to make of this book. Given the title and the source of the recommendation (to me), I was expecting something of an out-and-out fantasy novel. Nothing doing. This novel tells the story of a couple of families and groups of friends, apparently in modern day England. I say apparently, because although they have cars and cell phones, the dialogue, descriptions, and the things people choose to talk about read like a Victorian novel. The book held my interest -- some characters were far more intriguing than others -- overall, but kind of went in and out of focus. The main story (if it can be judged that) involves an outsider to the group (they very clearly compare him to the Green Knight of Sir Gawain fame several times), and his interaction, influence, and eventual effect on the group(s). However, this character doesn't appear until well into the book, and is gone long before the novel wraps up. In fact, the ending of the novel, while clearly written, doesn't really seem to pertain to much that's gone before in the previous 450 pages. An odd book. I'm not sorry I read it, by any means, but I'm not sure how much it'll stick with me.
—Daryl
Oh this was a fascinating and frustrating book. At first, it felt quite like A.S. Byatt - erudite, complex, with a wide cast. About 1/3 of the way through, though, the intellectual content ceased to do anything *new*, and I grew frustrated with all of the characters. I was particularly irritated by the fact that none of them seemed to have any *work*. Except for the aberrant character of Lukas, no one actually did any work, even those who had jobs. Sefton studied, but we only found out about it when it could furnish a metaphor for the strange little social drama. In the last third the pace increased and I became more interested again, but I was still frustrated by the ending - pair everyone off, and Happy Endings? Whut?
—Highlyeccentric
