The Bell

Iris Murdoch (1919-1999) spent most of her life working as a philosophy teacher at St. Anne's College, Oxford. During this presumably busy occupation, she wrote 26 novels, five plays, a collection of poetry, and five philosophical texts. I need to remember this the next time I have trouble getting out of bed because I am feeling a little tired. Just imagine writing 26 novels! And these are not simple tales banged out and published with a quick proofing. Murdoch wrote intricate, deeply emotional novels examining the psychological and philosophical implications of this crazy ride we call life. Murdoch's character driven writings work themselves out within carefully constructed, highly symbolic atmospheres full of intense sights and sounds. I once described Murdoch as a creator of universes, and that is exactly what she accomplishes in this highly acclaimed 1958 novel, "The Bell." Unfortunately, Penguin got A.S. Byatt to do the introduction to the book. Byatt may be a highly regarded author, but her introductions are excruciating exercises in literary criticism that tax the hardiest souls. Skip the intro and dive right in. "The Bell" is a story about a group of very unhappy people living in a sort of quasi-religious support group home, called Imber Court, outside of Imber Abbey. The abbey is the home of a group of cloistered nuns who avoid having outsiders enter the abbey grounds. The big event for the abbey and the residents of Imber Court is the installation of a spanking new bell at the abbey. The bell will take the place of the long missing medieval bell lost in the mists of time. As the important event draws ever closer, Murdoch describes several of the residents of Imber Court in minute detail, leaving almost nothing to the imagination in her descriptions of the these fatally flawed yet likeable people. Several of the characters receive such loving attention from Murdoch that it is difficult to discern who is the main character. It is probably Dora Greenfield, as Murdoch opens and closes the novel with this seemingly shallow yet complex character. Dora goes to Imber to renew her relationship with Paul, her scholar husband who is staying at Imber Court in order to do research on manuscripts at the abbey. Paul is a jerk, a jealous, controlling twit who seeks to dominate every aspect of Dora's life. Dora likes to live the free life of the city, but oscillates between romantic affairs and the discipline she feels she needs from Paul. When Dora nervously arrives at Imber, she quickly becomes acquainted with some of the other lost souls rambling around the grounds. Arguably, the most important figure is Michael Meade, the leader of the community who has more problems than some of the people in his charge. A constant source of irritation to Michael is the presence of Nick, a man who Michael had an affair with years before. This affair resulted in Michael's expulsion from the teaching profession and a serious setback to his hopes of becoming a priest.

This profound and haunting novel features Murdoch's unique blend of religious preoccupations, sexual politics, and philosophy (or, as she more accurately referred to it elsewhere, "moral psychology")--but, in spite of its many-layered symbolism, it still manages to be surprisingly suspenseful. If you've never read a book by Iris Murdoch and are interested in finding a good place to start, read "The Bell." A sort of psychological detective novel, the story is told through the eyes a leader of a lay religious community who is haunted by secrets from his past and also from the perspective of two visitors: a carefree woman returning to her boorish husband who is studying at a nearby convent and an innocent youth hoping to be inspired by the community's spiritual atmosphere before he goes to Oxford. The plot revolves around a bell missing for centuries and the community's plans to replace it with a new one, but I will say nothing else that might give it away. The first half of the book is a very British comedy of manners (and it is at times very funny), but then things get out of hand when the two visitors, both knowingly and unwittingly, set into motion a series of tragic events that shatter the faith and foundations of the group. Although I was constantly surprised by the book's twists and turns, when I finished the novel I felt that all the events were very nearly pre-ordained by the actions and ethics of its characters.Murdoch's genius is her ability to pose many complicated questions and provide just enough for readers to decide for themselves. Are the visitors responsible for destroying the community's equanimity or were they simply the catalyst that exposed the hypocrisies and self-centeredness of the commune's members? Must a person transcend selfishness in order to influence others for the better? Does it take tragedy to bring out the best in people? Is it ever really possible to wall oneself away from the rest of the world? It seems almost incidental in this day and age to acknowledge that the novel portrays two gay men in a sympathetic manner astonishing for a book published in 1958--yet another aspect that displays the power and forwardness of Murdoch's thinking.

I just finished this novel a half hour ago and am moved to write immediately. It was one of the most moving and staggering novels I've read in my life (and I''ve read countless of the "major" works). What begins as an almost Austenian comedy of manners becomes a glorious, compelling novel of ideas, of the relationship between action and meditation and of the complicated ways of love. Filmed once for British TV, it would make a splendid film, particularly now that homosexuality is no longer taboo. Michael and Dora emerge as unlikely, yet extraordinary heroes, whose lives I will wonder about for a long, long time.

This beautifully constructed novel begins and ends with a description of Dora Greenfield. I feel that it is Dora who makes this novel. All of the other characters are hugely inadequate, struggling as they are with the constant dilemma of how to deal with the pleasure of life. Dora has no qualms she knows that life can be full of fear ( the reason she returns to Imber Court and her estranged husband) but she desperately wants to live, to enjoy sensual pleasure. It is not possible to detach sensuality from fear in this novel. The bell is a symbol of this fear, it sits under the water, discovered by Toby. Toby has a sexual encounter with Dora which is interrupted by the bell resounding. Toby has a sexual encounter with Michael, who is obsessed with the new bell, seeing it as a source of liberation from his sexual imprisonment, from this sensuality which he despises. I really enjoyed this novel. It is almost perfect in form. The characters are explored slowly with wonderful skill they are slowly revealed to us . I would highly recommend this book for anyone seeking an introduction to Iris Murdoch's work

The Bell is the only Murdoch novel I've really liked. I've read it, probably, dozens of times, and it improves with each read. The language is of a poetic quality - my test for this is that it's best when read out loud.The theme of the book is the nature of human goodness, and the impossibility of human perfection. Murdoch was an Oxford Reader in Moral Philosophy at the time, and was well capable of producing a very dry account of this subject, but instead the book is a masterpiece of subtle comedy which gets its serious ideas across with great subtlety. The first two chapters, in particular, draw the reader into the life of the heroine with a piece of sustained artistry that is quite unparalleled, at least in my experience. It's a gorgeous piece of prose that I never tire of reading.Dora, the heroine (and I use the term deliberately), is presented as a totally amoral being (and therefore, like the dog, without sin). She is incapable of deciding to "do the right thing", but also incapable of real wrong-doing. All the other characters are in some way struggling with their own moral turpitude, and in trying to intellectualize their struggle, accellerate their approaching doom. Dora meanwhile, guided only by her animal instincts, emerges as a Saint, cheered on at every stage by the reader (well, this reader at least). Furthermore, Dora's redemption occurs in spite of, rather than because of, the moral and intellectual strictures of Organised Religion. You cheer for Dora as she leaves the Chapel in disgust, just as you cheer for Austen's Elizabeth Bennet when she faces down Lady Catherine. It's that good!The Bell of the title is a symbol of untrammelled female sexuality that resounds throughout the book. This theme is explored, ironically, in a plot which takes place around the grounds of a convent. There's a disturbing painting by Millais called "The Vale of Rest" that I think must have inspired Murdoch. The picture of nuns digging a grave is a wonderful image of Victorian male sexual terror (conceived, incidentally, by Millais on his honeymoon). In the backgound swings the bell. When moved, it must sound.Apart from Dora, most of the other characters emerge from the events of the plot with their lives in ruins. Dora, in contrast, learns to value herself by finally detaching herself from the awful man she had married.I'm very conscious of the fact that not all readers would share my interpretation of the book, and in all probability Murdoch didn't mean it that way. She was on record as saying that if she'd known how readers would feel about Dora's awful husband, she would have treated him more sympathetically. But the book is as it is, and as a description of the triumph of the Human Spirit over priests and pedants, it's just fine for me. Incidentally, it was made into a very good television version by the BBC about 20 years ago. I hope they repeat it one day.