batbones's review against another edition
5.0
I loved how Murdoch probes into the thoughts and emotions of each character, her astounding clarity of writing be it in dealing with their emotions or mapping out the escalation of situations. Her analyses of relationships are sharp and incisive -- sometimes too much so, I feel, but it never feels contrived, rather as if these characters of hers had spent far too much time thinking about themselves and the state they are in than seems possible for such ordinary people. She writes sentiment and emotion so beautifully that in this tragicomedy at times I find myself on the verge of tears, sharing in Harriet's anguish, Blaise's, well, blase attitudes and his desperation, sometimes despising Emily myself for throwing a spanner in the works of Harriet's blissful marriage. Murdoch explores the states of not just the central character but gives a part to the trio's friends and children, and through this realises a fuller, more descriptive and complete picture of the chaos and its effects on everyone involved. I daresay I would never forget the gradual tender closeness of Harriet and Luca: so heartwarming and sweet and special, and yet so tragic.
Sometimes I think I can write, and then I read works like this one and I give up that thought entirely.
Sometimes I think I can write, and then I read works like this one and I give up that thought entirely.
buggyk's review against another edition
challenging
dark
funny
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
ellaura's review against another edition
4.0
what a MESS! drama, secrets, shouting, adultery, weirdness, power, philosophy, dogs and death.
harriet deserved so much better though.
harriet deserved so much better though.
nathansnook's review against another edition
funny
lighthearted
reflective
tense
3.5
A hot train wreck of Freudian musings with the most hilariously tragic individuals trying to love each other, loving when they shouldn't, loving when they want it most, loving when they need it most.
Love is complicated.
Hurt people hurt people.
Nobody wins. Everybody loses.
Everybody wins. Nobody loses.
With rich prose that swells and dialogue that dances in humor and heart, Murdoch entertains with grand gestures that make for one helluva ride.
Love is complicated.
Hurt people hurt people.
Nobody wins. Everybody loses.
Everybody wins. Nobody loses.
With rich prose that swells and dialogue that dances in humor and heart, Murdoch entertains with grand gestures that make for one helluva ride.
tessaays's review against another edition
5.0
My first Murdoch, and what an experience. An unsparing, laser-focused view on relationships, somewhere (in pace) between Jane Eyre and something more contemporary but completely unique. I’ve never read anything like it.
mrh29992's review against another edition
challenging
funny
reflective
tense
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
4.75
blueyorkie's review
4.0
The title comes from Titian’s Sacred and Profane Love, a notoriously ambiguous painting about which of the clothed or naked women depicts which type of love. In the novel, Murdoch also repeatedly unsettles the reader whether Harriet and Blaise Gavander’s 19-year marriage or Blaise’s nine-year clandestine affair with Emily is a sacred relationship. Before the novel opens, their neighbour, crime writer Monty Small, who has conspired with Blaise, has already loved, hated and been widowed by his possibly adulterous actress wife, Sophie. Was his love sacred or profane?
mrpatperkins's review against another edition
5.0
In college I read a book by [a:Iris Murdoch|7287|Iris Murdoch|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1238673382p2/7287.jpg] called [b:Under the Net|11324|Under the Net|Iris Murdoch|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1388423609l/11324._SY75_.jpg|3257831]. Many years later, after I had long forgotten the title and author of the book, I recalled that I liked this book about a writer in London and this dog that he kidnapped. I didn’t even remember the plot; I only remembered that I liked the book and the story the author told. I also remembered that the book started with a “U.” For years I searched bookstores trying to find a book that triggered my memory of the “U” book, but all with no luck.
Finally, as I browsed in a bookstore through the M’s, there it was. Under the Net, by Iris Murdoch. I picked it up, took it home, and gave up after a few pages. At that point in my life, I wasn’t ready to return to Murdoch’s pensive, character-driven style. Her writing required me to get into the book, and I didn’t have the time or energy to do so.
A couple of months ago I saw Murdoch’s The Sacred and Profane Love Machine on the shelf of a local bookstore. The title itself intrigued me—how often does a good title draw in a potential reader?—but the author convinced me. And my life is in enough order to handle Murdoch at her best.
What Murdoch does best is give her characters an interior voice, often before pages of dialogue that build upon those inner thoughts. Her story centers on Blaise, a psychotherapist who lives a double life. He has a wife, Harriet, and a son David in suburban London, but a long-term mistress and another son on the other side of town. Caught in the middle is their neighbor, Monty, still grieving from the recent death of his wife. The reader watches these worlds collide with increased interest, and the flaws of each character wrap around the other characters in interesting ways. Each character has a unique philosophy of love—unrequited is a favorite—but the book never delves into the erotic, only teasing what happens behind closed doors.
Be prepared for surprises. Murdoch doesn’t shirk her literary responsibilities, and while the ending leaves much resolved, it satisfies at the same time. All may be fair in war, but nothing is fair in love.
Finally, as I browsed in a bookstore through the M’s, there it was. Under the Net, by Iris Murdoch. I picked it up, took it home, and gave up after a few pages. At that point in my life, I wasn’t ready to return to Murdoch’s pensive, character-driven style. Her writing required me to get into the book, and I didn’t have the time or energy to do so.
A couple of months ago I saw Murdoch’s The Sacred and Profane Love Machine on the shelf of a local bookstore. The title itself intrigued me—how often does a good title draw in a potential reader?—but the author convinced me. And my life is in enough order to handle Murdoch at her best.
What Murdoch does best is give her characters an interior voice, often before pages of dialogue that build upon those inner thoughts. Her story centers on Blaise, a psychotherapist who lives a double life. He has a wife, Harriet, and a son David in suburban London, but a long-term mistress and another son on the other side of town. Caught in the middle is their neighbor, Monty, still grieving from the recent death of his wife. The reader watches these worlds collide with increased interest, and the flaws of each character wrap around the other characters in interesting ways. Each character has a unique philosophy of love—unrequited is a favorite—but the book never delves into the erotic, only teasing what happens behind closed doors.
Be prepared for surprises. Murdoch doesn’t shirk her literary responsibilities, and while the ending leaves much resolved, it satisfies at the same time. All may be fair in war, but nothing is fair in love.
ken_bookhermit's review against another edition
4.0
The second book in my quest to read Iris Murdoch's oeuvre to completion, The Sacred and Profane Love Machine (whose first edition cover absolutely fucking rips, compared to the edition I have) lured me in with its evocative title. And just when I thought I am going to read IM's bibliography in order (barring my introduction to her via [b:The Sea, the Sea|11229|The Sea, the Sea|Iris Murdoch|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1302898449l/11229._SY75_.jpg|1410491]), which meant starting with [b:Under the Net|11324|Under the Net|Iris Murdoch|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1388423609l/11324._SY75_.jpg|3257831] (1954). The Sacred and Profane Love Machine Was published in 1974, which means 20 years of literary growth has occurred from here to the first. That's assuming she wrote her novels in a linear way, of course.
I like embarking on books knowing what to look for, and knowing the dual nature of the sacred and the profane, I figured this would be a prominent factor in the narrative. Sure enough, it has something to do with adultery. Blaise is in a relationship with two women: Harriette (the sacred) and Emily (the profane). And beyond that is further sources of said duality: the two sons (Luca and David) and Monty's "split" selves presented through Milo and Magnus. But the primary idea of the double forms of love as assigned to the two women is too easy (as Martin Amis put it). One can have both the sacred and the profane in either love.
The "egoism and moral failing" of Blaise is indeed prominent throughout the story. To the point where I felt cheated by the turn of events at the end of the novel. Though I'm trying not to gauge this in terms of what occurs in plot and instead considering it in a stance of the symbolic, I can surmise that the novel's outcome is largely for Emily's character, not Blaise.
What interests me in an overarching sense is the function of the "machine" which IM frequently speaks of, and is present in the novel's title. In the novel, there are many allusions to a non-specific "machine": once during Blaise and Emily's conflict: about ceasing to be human to be a machine; Monty's mother (Leonie) and her "great machine of maternal love"; of dreams as deep cause, "of machinery"; Monty's internal monologue regarding the "machine" that will allow him to avoid reality (as a mental operation?); and Blaise in his monologue about the "machinery of [Harriet's] forgiveness".
This is an overarching concern because the "machine" is also mentioned in my all time favourite quote of IM from [b:The Sea, the Sea|11229|The Sea, the Sea|Iris Murdoch|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1302898449l/11229._SY75_.jpg|1410491] as "the great useless machine of my love".
On a vapid note, I kept flipping and flopping on whether to rate this as three or four stars (3 because Blaise is a jackoff, 4 because IM's philosophy and literally everything else). I settled on 4 thanks to the ending. Edgar is my favourite character from this lot.
I like embarking on books knowing what to look for, and knowing the dual nature of the sacred and the profane, I figured this would be a prominent factor in the narrative. Sure enough, it has something to do with adultery. Blaise is in a relationship with two women: Harriette (the sacred) and Emily (the profane). And beyond that is further sources of said duality: the two sons (Luca and David) and Monty's "split" selves presented through Milo and Magnus. But the primary idea of the double forms of love as assigned to the two women is too easy (as Martin Amis put it). One can have both the sacred and the profane in either love.
The "egoism and moral failing" of Blaise is indeed prominent throughout the story. To the point where I felt cheated by the turn of events at the end of the novel. Though I'm trying not to gauge this in terms of what occurs in plot and instead considering it in a stance of the symbolic, I can surmise that the novel's outcome is largely for Emily's character, not Blaise.
What interests me in an overarching sense is the function of the "machine" which IM frequently speaks of, and is present in the novel's title. In the novel, there are many allusions to a non-specific "machine": once during Blaise and Emily's conflict: about ceasing to be human to be a machine; Monty's mother (Leonie) and her "great machine of maternal love"; of dreams as deep cause, "of machinery"; Monty's internal monologue regarding the "machine" that will allow him to avoid reality (as a mental operation?); and Blaise in his monologue about the "machinery of [Harriet's] forgiveness".
This is an overarching concern because the "machine" is also mentioned in my all time favourite quote of IM from [b:The Sea, the Sea|11229|The Sea, the Sea|Iris Murdoch|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1302898449l/11229._SY75_.jpg|1410491] as "the great useless machine of my love".
On a vapid note, I kept flipping and flopping on whether to rate this as three or four stars (3 because Blaise is a jackoff, 4 because IM's philosophy and literally everything else). I settled on 4 thanks to the ending. Edgar is my favourite character from this lot.