An Accidental Man

by Iris Murdoch

A scintillating novel of fate, accidents, and moral dilemmas

Set in the time of the Vietnam War, this story concerns the plight of a young American, happily installed in a perfect job in England, engaged to a wonderful girl, who is suddenly drafted to a war he disapproves of.

What is duty here, what is self-interest, what is cowardice? Austin Gibson Grey, the accidental man of the title, is accident-prone, also prone to bring disaster to his friend sand relations. He blames fate. But are we not all accidental, one of his victims asks. Fate and accidents make deep moral dilemmas for the characters in the long and complex tale.

Genres: Fiction, Literary Fiction, Novels, Classics, 20th Century, British Literature, Female Authors

448 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1971

About the author

Dame Jean Iris Murdoch

Irish-born British writer, university lecturer and prolific and highly professional novelist, Iris Murdoch dealt with everyday ethical or moral issues, sometimes in the light of myths. As a writer, she was a perfectionist who did not allow editors to change her text. Murdoch produced 26 novels in 40 years, the last written while she was suffering from Alzheimer disease.

"She wanted, through her novels, to reach all possible readers, in different ways and by different means: by the excitement of her story, its pace and its comedy, through its ideas and its philosophical implications, through the numinous atmosphere of her own original and created world--the world she must have glimpsed as she considered and planned her first steps in the art of fiction." (John Bayley in Elegy for Iris, 1998)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iris_Mur...

Reviews

[Hugh · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is one of Murdoch's odder novels, and is not an easy one to love, though for the most part it is easy enough to read. It has a large cast of characters, none of whom is entirely likeable, and mixes farce and tragedy.

At its centre is Austin Gibson Grey, the Accidental Man of the title. Austin is the archetypal useless middle aged man. At the start of the book we see him losing his office job. His second wife Dorina has already taken refuge with her sister, and he decides to save money by letting his flat and moving in with Mitzi, a lonely alcoholic, one of several women in the book who can't help loving him and mothering him. Austin has a complicated relationship with his brother Matthew, who has just returned to London from a lucrative career in the Far East.

Another strand concerns Ludwig Leferrier, a young American philosopher who is avoiding the Vietnam draft by remaining in England, where he was born. Ludwig is offered a job at an Oxford college, and is engaged to Gracie, a young girl he has little in common with. Gracie's aunt Charlotte has been looking after her ailing mother, but when she dies she leaves her considerable fortune to Gracie, bypassing Charlotte and Grace's mother Clara.

The book is full of bizarre accidents and characters who fail various moral tests, and the ending is not really a resolution.

There are a couple of stylistic quirks that distinguish the book from Murdoch's other works. Although it is mostly related by an omniscient narrator, there are several sections in which a number of letters between different members of the cast move the plot on and provide entertainment, and there are two set piece party scenes in which conversations are reported without any attribution of comments to characters, which works surprisingly well.

Overall, an interesting book, but probably not one of Murdoch's best.

[Fiona · Rating 5 out of 5]

Even better than the others I've read. Totally awesome writer. Amazingly well realised characters. I think she should be studied at university.

[Jo · Rating 4 out of 5]

As so often happens with the blurbs on Iris Murdoch books, the one on The Accidental Man only conveys a small part of what the book is concerned with. This particular blurb speaks of Ludwig, a young American called up to the Vietnam War while living and loving in Britain and makes it seems as though he is going to be the main focus. In a book with a very large cast of characters, this can only be part of the story and in Iris Murdoch novels, where plot is often thin on the ground, it doesn't go a great deal towards explaining what takes place in the book. Austin Gibson Grey, or the accidental man, is far more pivotal in the book than Ludwig as another of Iris Murdoch's feckless, useless and often arrogant, middle aged male characters who appear in so many of her novels.

The novel is narrated not only in conventional prose but in letters and the letters very nicely break up some of the heavier sections which themselves don’t occur too often. The letters are invariably humorous and there is a fair amount of humor in the book, the evening parties where dialogue isn’t assigned to any one particular speaker are part of this with speculative gossip and Chinese whispers distorting truths.

From the beginning, characters are introduced with alarming speed and for those who don’t like a huge cast, this might become tiresome. I personally like the challenge and as so many of these characters are paired up moving from one partner to another, a pattern does begin to form. Characters appear and disappear and some are referred to by name without ever speaking a word. There are mysteries and mysterious happenings that are never resolved or explained and by the end of the novel there is a sense that whatever has happened, death, marriage and violence, life very much still goes on especially for the accidental man.

Austin is not just accidental, he is a car crash, sometimes quite literally, and is like a toddler in his behavior and moods though at the same time his erratic behavior leads to fear on the part of others. As he falls from one accident to another he manages to affect the lives of many of those around him, Mitzi, the lovable ex athlete, Dorina, his slightly possessed wife and her sister Mavis and his brother Matthew, an ex ambassador who has settled back in England. He is selfish but handsome and uses this latter feature to his advantage, refusing to take responsibility for his actions and manipulating those around him at whim.

There are lots of parallels or doubling in the novel, not only in the large amount of couples but in the events that occur, Charlotte and Mitzi have the same experience, Matthew and Garth both have memories of events that haunt them, there are two downtrodden women with children that cause them great sadness. There is also the occasional philosophical discussion as is common to Iris Murdoch novels, lovely descriptions of summer skies and gardens and the usual amount of tortured souls and introspective meanderings.

This is a complex yet easy to read novel if you can get past the large cast and as tragedy and departures follow one after another, there is a desire to keep reading and see who will make it out at the end and who won’t. It’s not one of my favorite Iris Murdoch novels but I enjoyed it more than some and would still rate it highly because of the intricate way characters are developed and then moved around like chess pieces, the insights she gives into a variety of human experiences and the humor that keeps the novel moving along so briskly.

[Cecily · Rating 3 out of 5]

A complex book with many characters, not one of whom is both sane and likeable, and many who are neither! There is no single main character or even a main plot, yet lots happens (which makes you keep reading), but in some ways, nothing does (which makes it frustrating).

An odd mixture of conventional narrative, sections of correspondence and quickfire unattributed and disjointed dialog at parties. The latter two styles felt like a shortcut to move the story along. I also found the repeated use of "someone and me" was annoyingly distracting.

Overall, it feels quite experimental, but on the other hand, like many Murdoch books, there is a significant Svengaliesque figure. In this case, there is arguably more than one, but as a reader, I found it hard to be caught in their web or really understand why others did.

I enjoyed it, but find it hard to pinpoint why.

[Kat · Rating 4 out of 5]

Iris Murdoch novels are a known pleasure, but it had been so long since I read one that I'd forgotten how delicious they are. No other author has ever made such racing narratives out of moral muddles and doubts of the metaphysical kind, and puzzling over which philosophical rants are likely to represent the true Murdochian view is half the fun. Humor and tragedy both have their moments in this novel of the sixties, which revolves around a young American man's decision to stay in England to avoid fighting in Vietnam, and we are reminded (as in every Murdoch novel) of how easily our obsession with ourselves can end up damaging those around us.

[Troy Alexander · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’ve read most of Iris Murdoch’s fiction and I think this is among her top five.

[Paromita · Rating 4 out of 5]

A deeply cynical novel with a mostly despicable or hypocritical cast of characters but also a fairly realistic one. People like this are everywhere and Murdoch's writing has the perfect balance of wit and subtle critique to keep one reading about the characters.
The finale was very fitting. Very bleak, good book.

[Ashley Marilynne Wong · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bizarre and beautifully complex. Brilliantly written indeed. Magnificent plot and spectacular characterisation. I just can’t get enough of Murdoch’s superb novels.

[Stephen Brody · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Dimly she learnt one of the most important of all lessons, how art can console.”

“Things that were relative once are absolute now. One feels it’s the end of the line. Politics and war used to retain some decencies….No nation could destroy another, governments couldn’t get at their subjects, and in the interstices of it all human beings could flourish…”

“It’s amazing what a lick of paint and some Regency wall-paper can do”.

“Love is not time’s fool, it takes no account of locks - or of Locke”

* * * * *
“I hate men”, exclaims Mitzi Ricardo, “I hate them!” Well, who wouldn’t is the only reply to that, faced with Austin Gibson Grey, the accidental man of the title. It wouldn’t be at all fair to say that Murdoch’s male characters are less richly portrayed than her female ones – how could it be otherwise when the sexes are largely incomprehensible to each other - but certainly all the best lines go to the women and there’s always something slightly alien about her men, they’re rather distant and aloof or frankly a bit soppy, and for sheer wimpish unpleasantness her ‘hero’ here takes the biscuit. He’s a complete muddler, always looking for sympathy while doing little to deserve it, a figure of not very full-hearted pity or open derision, reflecting presumably Murdoch’s own experiences with the opposite sex: “I’m a male homosexual in disguise” she says ambiguously more than once in her private letters. The women in her novels are always in charge of things unless they’re bedazzled by some (often imaginary) aura of inaccessible intellectualism. Not that Mitzi is too well qualified to judge; from a strapping athletic Diana by thirty-five she’s been reduced by a physical accident to a tall, fat embittered woman prepared to put up with just about anyone, or as the dreadful Austin Gibson Grey to someone else treacherously puts it while seeking ‘comfort’ from her and trying to ‘borrow’ money, “a blowsy old whore”. There are some other disappointed women in this tale, for different reasons. Mavis Argyll, after a Catholic Period, has taken up social work stricken with guilt over something or other (it’s in the nature of this sort of ‘guilt’ that the sin is never specified). Her half-sister, Dorina, is a resident in Mavis’s hostel for troubled girls, “attracting poltergeists” and having already evidenced an inherent dippiness by marrying and then leaving Austin Gibson Grey. Charlotte Ledgard is a haughtily-soured old maid regretting that she missed her one opportunity and resigned to looking after a disagreeable dying mother as a duty while expecting an inheritance. Charlotte’s sister Clara Tisbourne, on the other hand and also with an eye on the inheritance, is a complacent bourgeoise, charming as far as things go her way, gossipy and very socially alert (discussing her daughter’s forthcoming nuptials and their setting, she dismisses St Georges Hanover Square in favour of St Mary Abbots – “we’re Barkers people, not Harrods”). Clara has no axes to grind, she’s fairly sensible in her practical but not very intelligent way. Her daughter, Gracie, scorning schooling or any ‘education’ at all while gently mocking her mother’s small economies and snobberies, evidently intends to out-do them; at the age of nineteen she’s already snared a rather ponderously-serious young American with aspirations to be an Oxford history don and is leading him a merry dance while Ludwig (whose parents are frugal and obsequiously grateful refugees from war-torn Europe) is suddenly having doubts about how a frivolous and extravagant young wife might hamper his scholarly career. Clara in the meanwhile is doing some more discreet researches or meddling of her own. It seems unlikely at this stage that the engagement will culminate in either St Georges or St Marys. George (Pinkie) Tisbourne is another stock-in-trade, amiably overlooking his wife’s and daughter’s foibles in the interests of an easy life. All this (1971) may already seem rather quaint now, but it very accurately depicts the ‘tone’ of a period during which post-War austerity and decency was giving way to a throwing off of the traces and in which I was learning about what might broadly be called the social world, and fundamentally that doesn’t change except that thereafter it was all much more crude and blatant (and therefore far less amusing). Murdoch’s staging, her assembling such a range of disparate characters and off-setting them against each other, is as always unparalleled, and for the sake of readers conscientiously hostile to the ‘privileged’ she introduces as well with equal perceptiveness such individuals as an unhappy charlady from very much the wrong side of the tracks with a brute of a husband and a retarded child – though only as a thorn in the liberal flesh, who really wish she’d just do the dusting and go away.

This generally brittle and tittle-tattle-ish style is suddenly transformed, about a third of the way through and by a brilliant stroke of legerdemain, into something a good deal more potent. Two other characters take the stage. One is Austin Gibson Grey’s older brother, knighted for his services to international diplomacy and much sought after for his social cachet. It had been thought that Sir Matthew would retire somewhere in the East with his precious collection of Chinese porcelain, but dissatisfied with Oriental austerity (“The East is interested in death, the West in suffering”) he’s returned to seek a reconciliation with his long-estranged brother. The other is Garth Gibson Grey, Austin’s son, also returned after a muddled attempt at philosophy in an American university and now espousing a sort of nihilistic amorality which makes him as self-centred and selfish as his father. Grace’s slightly reluctant fiancé Ludwig and Garth used to be best friends, but a chill develops when the latter hears of the former’s matrimonial plans (“Garth hated sex”). Austin is gracious to neither, becoming more loathsome by the page, but the three are forcibly united when Sir Matthew, with Garth a passenger, allows his brother to drive a new car. Characteristically, Austin, very drunk, runs over and kills a child. Terrified, he begs Sir Matthew to say it was he, a teetotaller, who was driving; the request is denied. It’s assumed that it was all an unfortunate accident, and Austin is pitied once again (“just like him, we’re so sorry”); it’s rather mysterious how Austin attracts any sympathy at all, but that has to be put down to that sort of consciousness which loves to dispense abstract charity as long as it’s also condescending and doesn’t cost anything – Austin is occasionally invited to cocktail parties but only as an object of curiosity and interesting derision once he’s left. As no-one is quite telling the truth an unholy alliance between the three is necessary, especially when the father of the dead child, who has a very fair idea of the truth and not very ‘nice’, begins a campaign of blackmail. ‘Accidentally’ of course, his intended victim manages to inflict a head wound which puts him out of the running for any further mischief and again escapes retribution.

Young Gracie Tisbourne now emerges as a much more remarkable figure. Taking her fiancé to a Bond St jewellers to select a ring, she appals him by selecting the most expensive. “What are you fussing about, I’m paying for it and this is the one I like”. Gracie has obtained the inheritance. As Ludwig’s mouth drops open his mind is fast expanding: to be suddenly the husband of an heiress greatly soothes the conscience of even the most honourable young man. Her unexpected wealth is by no means a matter for general approval, however that’s disguised, and especially when she politely ejects her aunt from what is now a rather valuable house. “I’ll do something for Aunt Char later”, she explains; “when the time is right, she’ll understand that, she’s really as tough as old boots and she’s not penniless”, as she hands the place over to Sir Matthew who’s far from penniless either. Gracie is an unsentimental realist in a world of fake ones. More or less forbidding her fiancé to see him she explains her detestation of Austin Gibson Grey: “Austin is a huge fat egoist, as fat as a bullfrog. If I had an long enough pin I’d puncture him. I’d push the pin right in until there was nothing left but a flabby grey skin lying in a heap on the ground…..I hate muddles and the scenes and tears and all the rubbish these people imagine is leading the spiritual life or something”. Accused of selfishness she explains again: “I don’t want to live in a slum and be miserable, why should I? The idea of marrying you is a vision of happiness. I have a talent for happiness, do you mind? You’ve got what you want. Why shouldn’t I have what I want, it’s innocent enough….”

It’s not really right to say this either, but for the rest this story even while still being continuously immensely entertaining is a bit of a shambles in a way, almost too much happening, sometimes hilariously (the interludes of a series of snatched words spoken in corners by the cocktail guests are brilliant, as are entire chapters made entirely of letters criss-crossing each other), sometimes poignant and sad but without getting anywhere particularly (the engagement is predictably broken off and Gracie ends up with Garth, about as fraudulently selfish and muddled as can be found, there are two attempted suicides and the nervy Dorina manages to electrocute herself in a bath etc), sometimes fairly improbably (Mitzi and Charlotte set up a quarrelsome household together, the awful Austin smashes all his brother’s porcelain collection and without the aid of a psychoanalyst undergoes a self-induced and transforming catharsis, those supposedly without a sou to their names calling taxis at the drop of a hat and smothering each other with flowers and what have you), thus providing the vehicles – and this is the main point - for dozens of memorable quotes. One of Murdoch’s more worldly novels but the authoress is a chameleon and never quite within reach no matter how often she’s read while at the same time never taking sides and giving all her characters their due even while pointing out their failings. There’s no doubt that she knows what she’s talking about in whatever guise and she scatters little pearls of erudition and thoughtfulness everywhere: a morality tale without moralizing.

[Krasnoludki]

Nie wiem, co mnie podkusiło, by spędzić 720 stron w towarzystwie grupki z brytyjskich wyższych sfer i obserwować rozgrywający się w niej teatrzyk dramatycznych ruchów i nierozwiązywalnych animozji. Z nikim się nie polubiłam, do nikogo nie poczułam współczucia, od początku do końca wszyscy pozostali mi obojętni jak suche muchy w sieci narratora, patrzącego jak każde małe drgnięcie rozchodzi się falowo i po chwili animuje całą sieć. Co jakiś czas zmyślne bon moty i trochę za dużo nieszczęśliwych wypadków, żeby traktować je poważnie. Duszno, małostkowo, lepko, jedna zaleta, że przy tym wszystkim dość bezpruderyjnie.

[eleventeen · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5. Heres the thing. This book is a workshop in literary craftsmanship. It is so well written that I swear I paused like 10 times to say outloud to myself, like a dumbass, 'wow this is well done'. That being said? I hated every single person in this book. And while I get that is half of the point, I am not immune to having enjoyment of a book and its characters affecting my rating.

This is story of a giant piece of shit named Austin who in the name of privilege literally gets away with murder. This is a story of rich white people and avoiding the Vietnam war draft with increasingly obtuse "conscientious objector" reasons. This is a masterclass in the shittier side of the human condition, of how we convince ourselves and rationalize our way out of things. Murdoch surprised me, showing how completely a character believed in something in one chapter, then absolutely going the other direction as if it were nothing in the next. It's how real people think. How effectively we delude ourselves,but Murdoch's taken out the thought process in this third person narrative. We just see the end result the dialogue, and it's part of what makes you feel so separate from the characters.

Another masterful thing here is the style of the narrative. Chapters alternate between a standard narrative, epistolary format and pure dialogue as if we are flies onthe wall at a high society party. Gossip as a storytelling device is pretty damned cool.

All in all I'm glad I read it but I admit getting through this was occasionally a slog and depressing af. I want redemption,I want relatability, want the good guy to win, and that simply doesnt happen here.

[Brooke Salaz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Murdoch is perhaps my favorite author. Something about her unsentimental respect for ageing characters and how they are capable of sudden moral improvement strikes me as very hopeful. Nothing is easy but it is all as it needs to be. We should care how we behave but it should all be impersonal and free of any notion that we control anything. Beautiful and difficult to realize. Quite Buddhist it feels to me. You can feel somewhat infuriated with people but that doesn't mean you give up on them but you don't have to pursue them either. What needs to happen will, very freeing.

[Beth · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is now one of my favourite books of all time, and Iris Murdoch one of my fave writers. Well constructed characters, just quirky enough to be believable and fantastically written dialogue. Can't wait to read her other books.

[Mohit · Rating 5 out of 5]

too good... :)

[Антон Боровиков · Rating 4 out of 5]

«За пределами нормальной порядочности и долга нет ничего, кроме хаоса»

Перед нами четырнадцатый роман классика английской литературы, обладательницы многочисленных наград и титулов, бывшей ярой коммунистки и при этом Кавалерственной дамы ОВЕ (1987) Айрис Мёрдок. «Одна из лучших и самых влиятельных писателей ХХ века» (Guardian). Что ж, «Человек случайностей» только подтверждает это.

В центре сюжета - тот самый «человек случайностей» по имени Остин Гибсон Грей. Просто-таки классический случай лузера, при этом обладающего недюжинным обаянием и магическим образом привлекающего женщин, этакий британский Илья Ильич Обломов. Остин остается без работы, его вторая жена Дорина (первая жена, Бетти, погибла при загадочных обстоятельствах) уходит от него и переселяется в приют для обездоленных, которым руководит волевая и решительная Мэвис Аргайл («Вполне бравый вид. И в то же время безошибочно угадывалось, что она старая дева»).
. Остин постоянно строит планы, как он преодолеет этот кризис, найдет работу, вернет Дорину, но ... «Все мои начинания бессмысленны, они лишены логической связи». И тут еще в Лондон возвращается старший брат Остина, Мэтью, сделавший состояние и блестящую карьеру на Востоке. Отношения между братьями - вообще отдельная часть романа, от детских травм до теперешней разницы в социальном статусе. И, кстати, именно то, что постоянно случается с Остином, и дает название роману - слово accident в заглавии стоит отнести не столько к случайностям, сколько к несчастным случаям. Таковые постоянно преследуют Остина, такого ходячего магнита для неприятностей. Из этих передряг Остина, иногда даже против его воли, вытаскивает старший брат. Благодарность? Да нет, это не по части Остина. Любовь к Дорине? Скорее какая-то болезненная эгоистичная страсть. И в целом Остин - это, выражаясь современным языком, абьюзер, который, правда, из своего абьюза в силу нелепости своей жизненной никакой выгоды извлечь не может, скорее, наоборот.

Вторая пара главных действующих лиц - молодой американский историк Людвиг Леферье. В Англию он попросту сбежал, чтобы избежать призыва в армию (не забудем, в разгаре вьетнамская война). Здесь он обручается с наследницей богатого семейства Тисборнов Грейси. С одной стороны, вроде бы все хорошо - и работу Людвигу предлагают в Оксфорде, и невеста души в нем не чает, но ... Людвиг мучается (или делает вид, что мучается?) угрызениями совести по поводу своего бегства, чему способствуют и письма его родителей из Штатов. Да и интеллектуальная гордыня дает о себе знать - Грейс явно «не соответствует» академическим высотам Людвига. Да и окружение Грейс, вес�� этот «высший лондонский свет» тоже восторга у Людвига не вызывает.

На этом фоне в романе действует еще масса персонажей. Каждого из них, как и положено классикам, Мёрдок выписывает колоритно, детально, оживляя их и придавая повествованию неординарность, а своим героям - уникальные и выразительные характеры. Даже один из критиков отметил, что в «Человеке случайностей» персонажи очень првдоподобны в отличие от героев предыдущих романов («марионеток в метафизическом шоу Панча и Джуди», Анатоль Бройяр, The New York Times). Даже не хочу углубляться в описание каждого из них, поверьте, автор делает это гораздо лучше вашего покорного слуги.

Наверное, роман по сути своей - об ответственности, о том, что все, что мы делаем, имеет свои последствия, и выбор решения - всегда процесс мучительный и зачастую приводящий к драматическим и даже трагическим последствиям. Как писал исследователь творчества Мёрдок Питер Дж. Конради, «"Случайного человека" можно назвать изумительным сочетанием моральной страсти и идеализма с отсутствием иллюзий и морального скептицизма, что приводит к сухо-ироничному тону». Да, иронии и комизма здесь хватает, но это - такой коктейль из моральных исканий a-la Достоевский, саркастичного описания великосветских реалий и нелепости ситуаций, в которые попадают герои книги. Даже в мелочах Мёрдок не удерживается от шпилек - так, например, вечно ломающуюся машину, которую один из героев никак не может впарить друзьям, зовут «Кьеркегор» - ну не любила Мёрдок экзистенциалистов, что поделаешь.

Конечно, находки романа - это, во-первых, вкрапляемые периодически разговоры на светских раутах, сплетничанье и злость кумушек показаны очень ярко:
«- Неужели это Мэвис Аргайл? Сколько же лет ее не видели в обществе!
- Себастьян получил должность в Банке Англии.
- Смотри, у Грейс Тисборн в волосах живые орхидеи.
- Больше денег, чем вкуса.
- Магазинчик Молли Арбатнот приносит в неделю сто фунтов убытка.
- А я слышала, что Генриетта Сейс отравила газом кота Молли, это правда?
- Энн, как тебе идет белый цвет, прелестный!»
А, во-вторых, иногда повествование прерывается на отдельные главы, которые являются письмами героев друг к другу и которые говорят о персонажах книги иногда даже больше, чем их реплики и действия.


Несколько раз герои книги повторяют французскую фразу «C’est impossible de trop plier les genoux impossible» - «Невозможно слишком сильно согнуть колени, просто невозможно». Вот только насколько мы их сгибаем и ради чего - в этом, возможно, и есть вопрос, который своим в высшей степени талантливым романом ставит выдающаяся ирландка Айрис Мёрдок.

[npc · Rating 4 out of 5]

Admittedly this wasn’t my favorite Murdoch novel but it was nonetheless very entertaining, with deft philosophical undertones about one’s identity, civility, youth, sense of ownership, what it means to be in love, if love is really important, if anything is more important, how growing old and growing up changes one’s ideas of the world, and so much more.

Much of this narrative was propelled by gossip, which was a fun mechanism for driving the story (a poor taste in phrasing for those who know). The splicing epistolary chapters were at times confusing due to the wide social net the characters cast, but ultimately very charming.

Rather than drone on I’ll end on one of my favorite passages:

“Because a child could step into the road and die there was a certain way in which it was necessary to live. The connections were there, a secret logic in the world as relentlessly necessary as a mathematical system. Perhaps for God it was a mathematical system, the magnetism of whose necessity touching the here and now was felt as emotion, was felt as passion. He had recognized, at times, that touch and trembled at its awful certainty, being sure that he could not now be otherwise contented. It was an eternal doom. These deaths were merely signs, accidental signs even. They were not starting points or end points. What lay before him was the system itself. What burnt him was a necessity which was the same throughout. But could this searing darkness be for him other than an experience? Was this his fallen state? Was this every man's fallen state? Experience was impure and inextricably mingled with delusion. Even words tormented to the utmost retained that haziness and warmth without which perhaps poor humans cannot live. Yet what was action without these, could one go on in the dark after meaning had died? Absolute contradiction seemed at the heart of things and yet the system was there, the secret logic of the world, its only logic, its only sense.”

[Tom Manning · Rating 1 out of 5]

Unfortunately, this marks the second book in a row that I've been unable to finish. With this book, I at least managed to make it halfway through before giving up on it but there were some glaring issues I had with this novel that I couldn't look past.

Iris Murdoch is a very good writer as I've experienced with her book, Under The Net, and even in this novel, there isn't too much wrong with the line-by-line writing at all. The issue I had with An Accidental Man is that I simply had no attachment to the characters whatsoever and this is a very character focused novel. I felt them all to be cliche bourgeois people that just gave me nothing to feel any form of emotion towards. There were a couple of moments where it seemed as though something interesting might happen with the accidental deaths of the child and her father but even these plot lines didn't hold my attention for long.

Overall, it's safe to say I was disappointed with this. Even though I only paid a couple of pounds for this book from an Oxfam I think they would have been better spent on another novel. Perhaps I'll revisit this in the future but I seriously doubt it.

[Samuel · Rating 3 out of 5]

her magic returns in this unique piece filled with complex dynamics in relationships from 5+ perspectives

[Ed · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fun to read, but somewhat manipulative and cynical in the end.

[Tariq Mahmood · Rating 5 out of 5]

Its a remarkeable how Iris manages to keep me captivated with a weak plot. I think her stength lies in character presentation and subtelity. The accidental man is man who is making mistakes but not living in guilt and regret for too long. He is a modern man, happy to live and feed off from the women in his life again without much shame attached. Iris shows how people can create an imagination in which they are never to blame for their own mistakes.

I love the book, as I saw too much of myself in the accidental man :(

Austin helped Mitzi by a revelation of it was possible to live simply by egoism. Austin, with nothing particular to boast of, never seemed to doubt his own absolute importance. Just because he was himself the world owed him everything, and even though the world paid him very little, he remained a sturdy a sturdy and vociferous creditor. Misery could not crush Austin. Simply being Austin enabled him to carry on.

[Daniel Pope · Rating 4 out of 5]

The characters in this book were so vividly realized, their emotional/philosophical entanglements so clearly and wholly etched, that reading it was seamless and oddly pleasant, despite how unpleasant the material could be at times. Austin is one of the most utterly despicable characters I have ever read. All too believable. Though Ludwig’s struggle of conscience over draft-dodging didn’t have any intrinsic interest to me (drafts should be dodged, every one of them), it made sense, I could understand his crisis, maybe because it didn’t have anything, ultimately, to do with the war. There is a kind of all-consuming sense of importance in the characters’ thoughts and philosophies and struggles, and then on the other hand a curiously gratifying sense of pointlessness. This is one of the strangest novels I’ve read in my life, I think. It’s definitely got under my skin. Looking forward to reading more of her work.

[David Johannesen · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have started to re-read Iris Murdoch, a philosopher at my beloved Oxford and favorite woman author of the last 50 years in addition to Isabele Allende and Louis Erdrich. Her fiction is precise and unites author, reader and character; and love and regret seem to be reconciled. I wish only to share a passage from "An Accidental Man"—: "One should do simple separated things. Don't imagine you are that big complicated psychological buzz that travels around with you. Above all don't feel guilty or worry about doing right. That's all flummery. Guilt is the invention of a personal God now happily defunct.""
—David Taylor Johannesen

[Jessie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Murdoch must be more of a misanthrope even than me if she takes this view of people. I'm not such a modernist that I need a hero but this is surely the most contemptible bunch of characters of any book I've read. The philosophy is thin and the dialogue artificial. Still it is hard to not be sucked into the drama. Between this book and the last I read by her if she uses the word uncanny one more time I'm going to scream.

[Kristine Morris · Rating 3 out of 5]

About 30 pages in, I thought, "Damn, this is going to be hard to get through" and yet I must because it's been chosen by my book club. And then it kind of grabbed me. Never have a read such a jumble of miserable characters. I liked how she alternated between prose, letters and the party one liners. Lots of stuff going on in the novel with no real plot. Looking forward to discussing with my book club.

[Gary Branson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not an easy read and still worth the effort. Murdoch is a very different reading experience, I can see her influence on A.S. Byatt. This was her second book that I have read... Will continue to read more.

7/29/2020
Just finished for the second time. I am reading Murdoch’s books in the order they were written and I appreciated this one more now that I “understand” her style better. Not looking for plot makes reading Murdoch a true pleasure.

[Salvatore · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Murdoch treasure. A series of unfortunate events™ lead characters in a whirlwind of tragedy, humour, opportunity, absurdity, novel writing, bathtub suicide, dodging the draft, engagements, comas, and the like. A criticism on the common vanity we share and how our selves can only give so much sympathy to others - the letter writing sequences nail this sentiment and revelation. Plus the doubling within this novel was a delight - not expected, not necessary, but well timed.

[Ali · Rating 4 out of 5]

I found this to be an excellent Iris Murdoch novel. Big complex ideas, typical cast of Murdochian characters all of whom are somehow connected to the others. This is actually a very readable, even gripping read. Many of Murdochs usual themes are present, although toned down a bit, from her earlier novels. Overall very enjoyable, although there were a couple of characters who irritated me.

[Courtney · Rating 4 out of 5]

The story of an incestuous upper middle class English family, their many friends, and one imposter, Ludwig. The scholarly American, accidentally born in Great Britain, is avoiding the draft for the Vietnam War by staying in his parent's adopted country.

[Darlene · Rating 2 out of 5]

The best I can say about this book made up of secondary characters is that it was an interesting experiment. None of these characters are very likeable, but there are enough "accidents" to keep the story moving along.

[Joyce · Rating 2 out of 5]

Too many characters! Mitzi, Maisie, Clarice, Caroline... can't keep them or their houses straight.
This was my first encounter with Iris Murdoch. I think she's a bit too overwrought for me.