A review by mrpatperkins
The Sacred and Profane Love Machine by Iris Murdoch
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.