Not sure why I picked up Iris Murdoch. But it was one I hadn't read and I was nostalgic for my excitement when I first read the Word Child or The Sea the Sea. The cover promised me a Terrifying Tangle of Erotic Impulses. Perhaps they were in 1961 but at this point it was more of just an improbable tangle. Part of the whole premise is suspending belief that the main character would act so passively in a situation where his wife decides to be run off with his best friend. It is trying a bit too hard to be brazen and modern and ultimately rings untrue. Not her best.
Apparently a critic at the time said about it: 'With less philosophising and more shagging than Murdoch's other books, it is a joy to see this wonderful writer let her hair (and her knickers) down. '
Pull 'em back up I say!
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