In the realm of literature, some titles resonate more profoundly than others, shaping our understanding of human emotions and relationships. Two remarkable works that have left an indelible mark on my psyche are Middlemarch and Howards End. These novels captivated me in my late teens, awakening a deep empathy for the emotional lives of seemingly unimportant characters. Before encountering these narratives, I viewed literature primarily as a vehicle for dramatic storytelling. However, I began to realize that the best novels create a complex web of empathy that connects the reader, writer, and characters, resulting in a transformative experience. Sadly, the academic scrutiny surrounding authors like George Eliot and E.M. Forster may have diluted their influence on me.
Another profound literary work that profoundly impacted me is The Bell by Iris Murdoch. My first encounter with Dame Iris was rather embarrassing, as I confessed to her that I had not read any of her books, a revelation that seemed to bring her relief. At her suggestion, I picked up The Bell, which engrossed me to the point that I found myself immersed in her world for the following two years, often at the expense of other authors. While I may have blurred the details of many of her plots, the simplicity and depth of this particular story continue to resonate with me.
The narrative of The Bell follows a young wife who returns to her stern husband in a lay community adjacent to a secluded order of nuns, created by a mismatched group of enthusiasts. The character of Dora parallels a young nun who allegedly brought a curse upon the abbey through her romantic involvement, acting as a catalyst for change within the community. As her presence disrupts their ideals, the cracks in their collective beliefs become apparent, leading Dora to ultimately leave her husband for good.
In Murdoch's exceptional storytelling, the themes of love and freedom intertwine, exploring the delicate balance between the two and the destructive nature of love gone awry. For many gay men, including myself, the novel's honest portrayal of homosexual love was both surprising and refreshing. Murdoch does not sensationalize or politicize the experience; rather, she focuses on the emotional ramifications of loving someone who is deemed forbidden.
Throughout most of her work, Murdoch maintains a tone of playful artificiality. She acknowledges that her novels, while significant, are not the most critical pursuits in the grand scheme of life. Her writing is directed at intelligent readers, encouraging them to engage in more meaningful activities, such as healing or teaching philosophy. Consequently, her characters often feel as though they are performing on a stage, existing in a self-aware universe that is slightly detached from reality.
Yet, beneath this veneer lies a profound exploration of what truly matters in life: love, goodness, and the pursuit of happiness without causing harm to others. Much like her philosophical hero, Plato, Murdoch utilizes the medium of fiction to guide us towards deeper understanding. A touch of the magical pervades her later works, with events occurring that transcend rational comprehension. However, Murdoch quickly refocuses on her narrative, allowing the intricacies of her story to unfold with a comedic rhythm.
As I reflect on her work, it is as if she is nudging us to reconsider our perspectives: “Perhaps it is all a game...” This thought alone ignites a desire within me to revisit my battered copy of The Bell and immerse myself in its pages once more.
