5 out of 5

As it is with directors, experiencing an author’s body of work – or a fair selection from their oeuvre, since Iris Murdoch wrote a million books – is an interesting experience.  It can be damning: Bret Easton Ellis is forever stuck in the same mode, even when trying to purposefully break said mode (‘Lunar Park’) such that his writing, despite continual enjoyment of it, will have the taint of being the ghost of a previous, stronger source (insert separate analysis here about how Ellis realizes this and has been trying to process it in book after book…).  It can be rewarding: Joseph Heller maintained his themes of everyday isolation throughout all of his work, but approached from varying lenses throughout the years, it’s fascinating to see the concept evolve with the author’s age without it diminishing the effect or points of view espoused in his first books.  And with some authors, it can be… well, impressive, for lack of a more concise one-word description.

Murdoch very, very clearly had the same obsessions throughout her writing career of perceptions: how those shape motivations and how easily some keystone can shift and change the whole game.  This can lead down dark roads, or hilarious ones, but always very contemplative ones, and we’re generally led down those roads by charming and fastidious men.  The impressiveness is in how similarly structured Murdoch’s books can be – pursuit, obsession, paradigm shift, realignment – and yet how fascinating they all are.  Her themes haven’t evolved, per se, but filtered their way into any and every structure she uses, such that it seems like – and this fits with those themes, wonderfully so – the natural, inescapable state of life.  What’s especially impressive with ‘Under the Net’ is that it was her first book, and yet these concepts and emotions are fully formed.  Jake Donaghue, our lead, is a real person, and the people (obsessions) of which he bounces – Hugo, the ideal of language and knowledge; Anna, the ideal of love – are real as well.  As often happens in Murdoch’s writing, things tend to get murky when the character is intensely focused on those emotions which tend to be more ‘irrational’ to structured folk, leading the character to snap decisions and concepts we can clearly see as deceits from an outside perspective, but at less than 300 pages, ‘Under the Net’ swoops out of these moments heroically, on to the next goal for Jake.  This rational / irrational parallel is a necessity, of course, and though we can spot the flawed logic we can surely relate, but the balance of how long to sink into this hole is the key (to me) in Iris’ books for keeping us on the side of the narrator (if such is the goal), and ‘Net’ is an excellent example of such balance.

It’s also surprisingly humorous.  Iris’ writing is often littered with moments that a second glance reveals the ridiculousness and thus merits a smile, but ‘Net’ is almost hilariously slapstick at moments – flirting with actresses and actors and big money makers, Murdoch lets her imagination bloat set pieces amusingly – while still maintaining its grounding.  And we actually like Jake, as he generally seems like an okay layabout with good friends, versus some of Murdoch’s various protagonists who lean more toward calculating and distancing.  We root for him.  His successes and insights are shared.  You feel the revelations as he does.

Murdoch’s writing is all about belief systems.  ‘Under the Net’ finds a struggling writer who always feels a little put out thanks to lingering beliefs on the purity of knowledge and love.  We get to know him as we travel with him whilst his beliefs get challenged and, perhaps, your own.  It’s a bonus that you get to laugh along the way, and that every indulgent portion is balanced by some momentum and, even at this first-book stage, effecting, precise language.