The Good Apprentice

by Iris Murdoch

Edward Baltram is overwhelmed with guilt. His nasty little prank has gone horribly wrong: He has fed his closest friend a sandwich laced with a hallucinogenic drug and the young man has fallen out of a window to his death. Edward searches for redemption through a reunion with his famous father, the reclusive painter Jesse Baltram. Funny and compelling, The Good Apprentice is at once a supremely sophisticated entertainment and an inquiry into the spiritual crises that afflict the modern world.

Genres: Fiction, Classics, Literature, British Literature, 20th Century, Novels, Philosophy

522 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1985

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

[Jim Fonseca · Rating 5 out of 5]

We know this from the cover blurbs and from the first few pages: Edward, the main character is a young man, a college student, living in London. He gives his best friend a sandwich laced with LSD as a joke. The friend falls to his death from a window. Edward’s guilt comes to shape his whole life, plunging him into a debilitating depression worsened by weekly letters from his friend’s mother cursing him as a murderer.

Edward’s mother is dead, and he returns home where he lives with his father and a younger brother. Their lives are complicated too as his father is having an affair with a married woman (the wife of Edward’s psychiatrist) and his brother is socially and intellectually withdrawn from the world, shunning sex and alcohol. His brother is dedicated to somehow doing good and helping people, becoming like a priest or a monk, but without believing in God. That brother takes on Edward as a kind of “project.”



People tell Edward he has to learn to live with his responsibility for his friend’s death, but he thinks “…but I can’t live with this, I can only die with it, except that I don’t die.” The reader may think that both young men need a good woman to help straighten them out, but how will they attract anyone in their current situations? The blurbs tell us, in so many words, that Edward is seeking redemption and his brother is seeking salvation.

With advice from a psychiatrist and a fortune teller (!) Edward goes off to find his biological father, at one time a somewhat famous artist. Edward finds his father’s wife and two half-sisters he never met living almost in isolation in a cult-like four-person commune. His father is “away and will arrive shortly.” So weeks later, where is he?

There’s a heavy dose of philosophy in all this. (Murdoch was a philosophy professor at Cambridge.) In the course of one dinner conversation we can touch on everything from the ancient Greeks and geometry to nuclear war, terrorism, pornography and artificial intelligence!
There are many good lines and humor. Just a couple:

“As Edward found these words emerging from his mouth he felt a thrill of fright as if the words were actually little animals which had leapt out of his mouth and were now running about.”

“The head waiter had noticed the incident….His contempt for his clients was impartial.”

The social network portrayed in the story is so dense that touching it anywhere affects everyone else. So when the couple having the affair is found out and the wife says, “Let’s not get in a muddle –“ her lover can say “That’s your funniest remark yet.” The affair occupies almost as much of the book as Edward’s incident. Watch what you wish for. Can a woman fall head-over-heels in love with a man for just two weeks? And I’m reminded of a book by Anita Brookner, can you really fall in love with someone you almost despise? There’s a wonderful love letter from the man to the woman, trying to win her back, that is a classic.

There are many surprising plot twists and several amazing coincidences. (Murdoch has been dinged by some critics for her “bizarre plot twists.” You get the impression that the author is toying with us because the coincidences aren’t all necessary to the plot – someone could have called and said “I’m coming to town and I’d like to see you” rather than running into someone by accident. But the coincidences are the author’s way of showing the real-life impact of chance. Just a few pages from the end of the book, Edward reflects: “In a way it’s all a muddle starting off with an accident: my breakdown, drugs, telepathy, my father’s illness, cloistered neurotic women, people arriving unexpectedly, all sorts of things which happened by pure chance. At so many points anything being otherwise could have made everything be otherwise.” I’m reminded of a quote attributed to Joseph Conrad: “It is the mark of an inexperienced man not to believe in luck.”

There are also some shocking surprises. And, just as in real life, some things that people predict come true and some don’t. That’s another way the author toys with the reader: contrary to theater parlance, the loaded gun shown in the first act may never go off. There’s also a bit, almost, of the supernatural. Hallucinations (perhaps due to Edwards past drug use), the fortune teller, poltergeists. (In one of Murdoch’s books she has a flying saucer appear in the distance.) Somehow the author gets away with it and leaves us with a great read.

It’s a dense, complicated plot and it’s fitting that the end of the book is a series of letters resolving everyone’s status and straightening out loose ends. (It’s also a fairly long book – the paperback edition I read had 520 pages of small font, without which, it would have been a 700-page book.)



The Good Apprentice was nominated for the Booker Prize in 1985. The critic Harold Bloom listed The Good Apprentice in his 1994 book, The Western Canon, as one of the books important and influential in Western culture. Murdoch can be considered an Irish author even though she grew up in and went to school in England. (And all of this story is set in England.) She was born in Ireland and both her parents were Irish.

I’m adding it to my favorites.

I’ve enjoyed many other novels by Iris Murdoch and below are links to my reviews of them. GR ratings for all these novels are remarkably similar: all between 3.8 and 4.0. I listed them in order of how I rated them. I rated the first 3 books as 5.0; the next 4 as 4.0 and the last one as 3.0. The Sea, The Sea remains my favorite by this author.

The Sea, the Sea

The Sacred and Profane Love Machine

The Good Apprentice (this review)

The Black Prince

The Time of the Angels

The Nice and the Good

The Bell

Under the Net

Photo of London streets from unsplash.com
The author from curtisbrown.co.uk

[Luís · Rating 5 out of 5]

The great art of Iris Murdoch is to lead us into a philosophical and theatrical novel. Never dull, we let ourselves take action and have fun with the adventures and situations the characters are drawn to. In my opinion, an excellent book by Iris Murdoch that I had trouble leaving.

[Manny · Rating 4 out of 5]

Iris Murdoch studies, The Good Apprentice. 10 minutes

1. To what genre would you assign The Good Apprentice?

a. Philosophy.
b. Religious allegory.
c. Literary pastiche.
d. Slice-of-life.
e. Chicklit.

2. Following the principles described in his 1945 essay, how do you think George Orwell would have classified this novel?

a. A bad good book.
b. A good bad book.
c. A good good book.
d. A bad bad book.
e. Fucked if I know, I'd rather go and futilely risk my life again in Catalonia.

3. What is the relationship between this book and Metaphysics as a Guide to Morals?

a. Abandoned first draft.
b. All the bits she couldn't fit in anywhere else.
c. Movie script.
d. Exercises and workbook.
e. There is no relationship.

4. What's up with misquoting the opening sentence of A la recherche du temps perdu?

a. Just wanted to check you were awake after 519 pages.
b. Okay, finally some clear proof that the Alzheimers was starting to kick in.
c. Come on. Isn't it enough to insert product placement for Proust in every other chapter?
d. Looks like she got the copy-editor who corrected the spelling in "He was a verray parfit gentil knyght".

5.

"What's wrong with me is me. I'm done for. You know how if an aeroplane engine stalls at a certain moment it can't rise, it must crash by its own weight, no power can raise it, it's just a heavy dead thing bound to fall back to earth. My engines have failed, I'm falling, I've got to fall, I've no energy left. I'm marked, I'm branded, everyone stares at me in the street. I haven't any real being left, it's all scratched and scraped away, people shudder away from me, I stink of misery and evil. I'm changing, but not in a good way, there is no way, that's what I've discovered. It's not like being a chrysalis, it's the opposite, it's like the chrysalis story run backwards. I used to have coloured wings and fly. Now I am black and I lie on the ground and quiver. Soon the earth will begin to cover me and I shall become cold and be buried and rot."

How do you respond?

a. There there, you know it'll be better soon.
b. Chin up old chap, what!
c. It's what you deserve, you slimy little bastard.
d. Yes, all excellent images.

[Hugh · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book earned Iris Murdoch the fifth of her six Booker shortlistings, and in my view this was well merited. Most of the editions of her novels that I have are fairly recent reprints (mostly published by Vintage), which have introductions that talk about the plots, and give away events that happen late in the story. By contrast, this one is an early Penguin paperback edition, and it was good to read a book with no more idea of what would happen next beyond the few hints offered by the blurb. As so often with Murdoch, this is an ensemble piece largely populated with middle class Londoners, and it has many of her characteristic traits - the dark humour, shifting allegiances and relationships and characters who make sudden impetuous decisions.

Unlike most of her novels, this one starts with a short chapter which establishes the situation its main protagonist, the 20 year old Edward Baltram, finds himself in. In a student prank, he has laced his friend Mark's sandwich with a drug. Mark then falls asleep, so when Edward receives a phone call from a near neighbour Sarah, he locks Mark into his room and goes to see her and ends up in her bed. On returning around half an hour later, he finds his room deserted and the window open, then sees Mark's dead body lying below. All this happens in less than ten pages, but the rest of the book explores the consequences for Edward and his complicated extended family at much greater length.

Edward has been brought up by his stepfather Henry and Henry's elder son from an earlier marriage Stuart. Edward's biological father is Jesse, a famous painter who lives in a fenland coastal setting with his wife and two daughters. His mother Chloe married Henry while pregnant with Edward, and is now long dead. Chloe's sister Midge is married to Thomas, a psychiatrist who acts as a sort of mentor to Edward and Stuart, another subplot is Henry's affair with Midge.

Edward is obsessed with feelings of guilt, but agrees to go to see Jesse and his family, and this part of the story is a little reminiscent of The Unicorn. The three women claim that Jesse is away, and introduce Edward to their rather monastic but slightly sinister self-sufficient lifestyle. To say much more would spoil the book for anyone who has not read it.

For all of the deaths and mishaps involved, I found this an entertaining and stimulating read, showing that in the mid 80s, Murdoch's imaginative powers were still intact.

[Chrissie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Edward Baltram is a twenty-year-old college student living in London. Maybe one day, he will become a writer. He has a friend, a very good friend, named Mark. Edward gives Mark a sandwich dripped with hallucinogenic drugs. Then a girlfriend, or rather a girl he hopes will one day become his girlfriend, calls. So, what does he do? He closes the door to his room where Mark is sleeping, knocked out by the drug, and pops out to the girl’s place. Delight, delight—she too is looking for sex. Half an hour later he is back in his room. The window is open. Mark has jumped. There he is down below, dead on the pavement. Edward becomes terribly depressed. Mark’s mother sends him threatening letters. She is going to murder him. This is the start of a long tale of introspection. Edward is one of several who search for understanding of themselves.

All of Murdoch’s books have elements you begin to recognize the more of her books you read. They all focus on character portrayal and human relationships. The reader is quickly introduced to a handful or two of characters all interconnected in complicated ways. One must pay close attention at the start--one needs to grab as many details as possible. No character is irrelevant—each turns up in different situations and has a specific role to play. By the end of the book you know them all very well. Extramarital, homosexual and / or bisexual relationship pepper every story. There is usually a magical, mystical component—here we have a poltergeist and a medium capable of talking to spirits. At least one person always dies, and spooky, suspenseful scenes take place. There are always atmospheric descriptions of landscapes, gardens and houses and detailed descriptions of characters’ appearances. Either the sea or a river or a flooded fen and a meeting where all the characters come together are elements of all Murdoch’s stories. You begin to smile when the same ingredients pop up again and again in her books. The repetition becomes somewhat predictable and boring too.

This book has all of the above.

I spoke of complicated relationships. What do you think of this? Edward has lived his entire life with his stepfather and stepbrother. His mother was pregnant with another man’s child when she married Edward’s stepfather. Edward is that fetus in his mother’s belly. His mother dies when he is seven. He scarcely remembers her and doesn’t know his biological father. Midge, his mother’s younger sister, is the closest he gets to this mother’s family.

Some of the relationships in this novel are, in my opinion, too extreme. Midge’s love for Stuart, Edward’s stepbrother is one example.

You stop and ask yourself what the author is saying. That life is a jumble, not possible to fully understand, comes across loud and clear. Individuals who fulfill the requirements for what is good are not necessarily the proponents of good. When things go bad, we must pick ourselves up and get on with life. These are the messages I fasten on. The conclusions you draw may be different.

I like how at the end each character’s views of what has occurred are summarized, but in a natural way. We see what most likely lies in the future for each. I did find the book a bit too long—it should have been tightened. Murdoch does not throw in extraneous characters—each and every one has a significant role in the story. It’s the philosophizing that could have been made more compact.

Christopher Cazenova narrates the audiobook. I wish he had read slower. With Murdocn’s books you need time to think. He uses different intonations for the different characters, but I could not hear who was speaking. There is one character with a Scottish accent—he is easy to identify. Three stars for the narration; it was pretty good. You can hear the words.

I like this more than The Sea, The Sea, so I am giving it three stars. It isn’t so ridiculously melodramatic. However, I need a lengthy pause before I pick up another of the author’s books. They are too similar to each other.

************************

*The Black Prince 4 stars
*A Fairly Honourable Defeat 4 stars
*The Sandcastle 4 stars
*The Good Apprentice 3 stars
*The Sea, The Sea 2 stars
*Jackson's Dilemma 2 stars

*The Unicorn wishlist
*The Time of the Angels wishlist
*The Bell wishlist
*The Flight from the Enchanter wishlist

*An Unofficial Rose TBR
*The Italian Girl TBR
*A Word Child TBR
*A Severed Head TBR

*Under the Net maybe
*The Message to the Planet maybe

[Ms.pegasus · Rating 3 out of 5]

THE GOOD APPRENTICE was published in 1985, yet it feels both older and more modern. It intertwines Victorian roots with a contemporary sense of unforced farce. Like in a Victorian melodrama the characters are impossibly entangled in each others' lives. Edward Baltram is the love child of Jesse Beltram, renowned avant-garde artist, and Chloe Warriston, one of Jesse's favored young models. Tragic pregnant Chloe is spurned by Jesse before the child is even born, marries Harry Cuno, and dies when Edward is around seven. Harry's own son, Stuart, is about four years older than Edward and is the offspring of Harry and his first wife Teresa, deceased. Meanwhile, Jesse has remained with his wife May Barnes and produced two daughters, Ilona and Bettina. Chloe's younger sister Midge Warriston is married to a prominent psychotherapist named Thomas McCorkerville, who is best friends with Edward's stepfather Harry. Thomas and Midge have one son, Meredith, who idolizes Harry's son Stuart. Got all that? I found it useful to draw a family tree to keep these entanglements straight. Nor is this the end of it. As the story progressed so many other surprising connections emerged that my notes became a sea of exclamation points. Yet, somehow Murdoch persuaded me to accept this unlikely state of affairs in the service of the subjective and self-assured speculations that could only occur within a familial circle.

Victorian melodrama is also a major plot element. The exposition of a clandestine love affair is voiced in breathless hyperbolic declarations: “...I'm starving, I want you in my house, I want it to be your home, I want you forever.” (p.88-89) And “I love you so much, I feel your kisses all the time, all our touchings, all our joys, are about me like a net, I nearly swooned with desire during that dinner party, when I sit alone at home and think about you I could bite my hands off.” (p.90) Yes, it's the 20th century and he says “swooned.”

Murdoch even throws in a séance. She describes it from Edward's point of view. Her prose carries such conviction that any skepticism on the part of the reader is not just stifled but rendered irrelevant.

In Part 2 Murdoch draws on the Gothic novel with equal adroitness. Seegard, Jesse's abode, is set in semi-marshland, a landscape constantly being reshaped by the weather. “...[H]e was walking upon a black sinewy surface, springy underfoot and less muddy. Then, as he looked, trying to see a way, the light changed, the sun was clouded and the water in front of him became dark, almost black. He stopped and looked back. Seegard, upon which the sun still shone, was already far away, now seen to be upon a slight eminence. As Edward turned about, straining his eyes, he was suddenly removed as if his surroundings had been quickly jerked upward, He did not sink, but fell abruptly, vertically, as the surface beneath his feet gave way and his legs descended into two watery holes.” (p.116-117) Murdoch never descends into cliché. Edward politely praises a tapestry based on one of Jesse's designs. “ 'It's beautiful,'....But he found it like the painting in his own room, rather distressing.” (p. 111) A lesser author might have sprung for “disturbing.” The nuance, the suggestiveness, keeps this novel afloat.

The story opens with an innocent prank gone wrong. Edward slips a hallucinogen into his strait-laced roommate Mark Wilsden's sandwich. He imagined he was opening up new vistas of experience for Mark whom he practically worshipped. Mark falls into blissful sleep. Edward slips out to meet up with a girl named Sarah Plowmain, whose mother knew May Barnes, Jesse's wife. He loses track of time, rushes back to the apartment and finds that Mark had gotten up and jumped out the window to his death. The reader is led to believe that the remainder of the book will be a dense examination of Edward's moral responsibility for the tragedy. Edward is overcome by feelings of guilt and depression. The tragedy, however, is a McGuffin, a catalyst for a series of events eliciting shifting subjective viewpoints. From this unpromising beginning Murdoch actually provoked me to laugh out loud when a series of coincidences and mistakes come to a head in Part 2 (Seegard).

No doubt there is much philosophical nuance in this novel. After all, she was a fellow at Oxford where she taught philosophy. This is the first book I have read by this author, and I found it easier, however, to sit back and enjoy her characters and careful writing. At a dinner party shortly after the tragedy, Harry tries to console his step-son with a “stiff upper lip” harangue. “Edward looked at Harry, or glanced at him, with an expression of faint wincing distaste, huddled himself into his chair, and resumed gazing into the corner of the room.” (p.16) No sentence could better convey this particular character at this particular moment.

This book was the selection of my local book club.

[Erin Quinney · Rating 1 out of 5]

"What a load of hogwash." Yeah, that's what went through my mind every time one of these awful and self-absorbed characters went off on a pseudo-intellectual soliloquy about their latest unbelievable drama. Oh, and the italics. They were simply dreadful and overused and distracting. Every other word was in italics. I didn't like any of the characters. Not a single one. I felt bad for Stuart because everybody hated him and told him so and he was the only one who showed a shred of decency. I still didn't like him much.

It was very difficult to finish this book, but after you put in 400 pages or so, you sort of have to, you know? And the ending. What? All that long, drawn-out craziness tied up with a few letters? Lazy. Then, it kept the book from being 1000+ pages, so I'll take it.

I've heard good things about Iris Murdoch. I sincerely hope this mess was an anomaly. I'm going to try a different book.

[Nathanial · Rating 5 out of 5]

five or six perspective characters, all from very close third POV, usually introduced by a long passage of dialog without hardly any tags like "he said," or "she slapped him," just a segue of blank space on the page, a preface to set the scene, and then four of five pages of solid dialog, followed by five or ten pages of intricate internal monolog.

she's crazy good at giving a sense of distinct characters' changing states of mind, and does some wild acrobatics with plot twists and convergences where many thru-lines combine in one scene. leaves me breathless.

and her plots are pretty good too. people kill, people lie, people die, people run away and hide, people love and fuck and fight. it's no surprise she's a philosopher. too bad she's dead. oh well whatever.

[Apollinaire · Rating 2 out of 5]

So after years of hearing about her--murkily, if admiringly, I now realize--I have finally dived in. Murdoch is...awful. What's worse, she is awful in all the things she lavishes so much care--or at least pages--on, so that it doesn't feel like an accident, with better novels awaiting me.

Take Jungian archetypes (the elvish sisters, the wizardly men, the Death portents in human form, the innocent hero on a quest, the evil stepmothers), stir them into a soap opera plot of crises, coincidence and constant talk, and you have"The Good Apprentice." The improbability of it all wouldn't matter if Murdoch weren't so intent on working out questions of motive and power. Excruciating, because her psychological insight is puddle deep.

I read on (and on) out of incredulity: something big was bound to happen to justify the unremitting buildup. So I will give Murdoch credit for plotting. She keeps you reading, first with hope, then with desperation, and finally with comic fury.

[Stephen Brody · Rating 5 out of 5]

It would take a very bold, impertinent, critic to say that any of Iris Murdoch’s mature novels was ‘best’. Nonetheless, I’ll risk that audacity and give first place to The Black Prince and The Sea, the Sea, closely followed by this one. Murdoch is not just a superlative master of English prose but of Englishness, and how is that to be summarised – hearts of oak with shiftily variable foliage? Deceit and ambiguity are built into the language, and here at its most subtle joy and grief, love and hatred, tragedy and comedy, are barely inseparable. That I think is the point of Murdoch, perhaps the most serious and intelligent woman of the twentieth century, but it’s not an easy one to understand as witnessed by quite a few other reviews here, which badly miss the comic aspect in the desire to interpret it as literal. The tale is trivial enough, a very young man under the weight of self-imposed guilt – a curiously Anglo-Saxon emotional state presupposing an imagined sense of blame without the intention of doing anything about it except making a show of self-laceration – goes in search of his artist-father (though the artistry is not much in evidence) to a remote madhouse in the possession of a trio of very strange women, two of them his half-sisters, in the drably-flat perpetually clouded landscape of East Anglia. Not too much literary detective work is necessary to see that all this is loosely based on the legend of Augustus John, who scattered progeny and discarded but adoring women all over the place, and who in Murdoch’s youth was a powerful legend indeed for aspiring bohemians. Are the mysterious women saints or monsters? They revere and are in fear of their distant lord and master, who they never see, without really liking him, and their existences are those of obsessive neurotics endlessly cleaning and carrying their domestic objects up and down flights of stairs and concocting ghastly meals. They both welcome and (unconsciously?) desire their revenge on the guilt-stricken hero as a male. What seriously disturbs this pattern convenient to all the participants is the intrusion on his part of an unconnected young woman with whom he supposes he is ‘in love’. In fact, she is quite ordinary and rather stupid, such is the magic enchantment of infatuation, another important recurring theme in Murdoch’s novels. The authoress is at this stage faced with the impossible question of how to conclude what in literature has to appear to be a complete picture, easy enough for a painter or composer, never so in a novel. She takes the usual or perhaps only way out in English, which can hardly ever escapes a moralising undertone, a sort of vague spiritual redemption (or ‘catharsis’ in the language of psychoanalysis, of which Murdoch disapproved), reducing the father to a senile old man, conventionally convincing and satisfying enough if not necessarily true. A masterly exercise in truly unique and original style, enormous sophistication and a profound knowledge of the infinite vagaries of the human heart, where something that verges on being ludicrous takes on the force of a myth sufficient to dispel incredulity and in which story-telling, poetry, farce, philosophy or even ‘religion’ all merge.

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

"I expect you will have heard by now that I am going to marry Giles Brightwalton. We have known and loved each other for ages, but Giles kept thinking he was really homosexual."

Oh, Iris, you're so nuts. I enjoyed this ... but it was a bit overwrought and...:

1) I thought Harry didn't come across as very sexy at all. At one point he was wearing a red bowtie with a black leather jacket!

2) When was this supposed to be set?

3) Folloing on from 2), if you're a millionaire in Thatcher's Britain and you're not thinking about the morality of being a millionaire in Thatcher's Britain ... who are you? Iris's millionaires' timeless "what is good? are we being good?" questions are adorable but peope are dying in the streets of Brixton, Toxteth, Belfast, Tottenham, South Yorkshire, etc.

4) It drags a bit at the end.

[Jo · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 stars

As with The Philosopher’s Pupil, the novel Iris Murdoch wrote before this one, The Good Apprentice begins with a dramatic scene involving the accidental death of the beloved friend of Edward Baltram, our main character, resulting in an immense guilt that consumes him. He falls into depression and after friends and family failed attempts to console him, ends up at the home of his estranged artist father in the English Fens where he spends much of the book alternately confused and bewitched by its inhabitants and their lifestyle. At the same time, his father Harry, stepbrother Stuart, and a variety of other characters live their life in London with the usual Murdoch dramas and life crises about love, betrayal, faith and religion.

It’s clear from the opening chapters that Edward’s family is a convoluted one and as the novel progresses this becomes ever clearer. There are several instances of instantaneous love where the stress of events causes one character to cling to another while other characters analyze their behavior for them, sympathetically and otherwise, and there are many pages of overwrought love declarations, passionate denials and emotional rollercoasters that tip our sympathies one way and then another.

Edward himself tumbles from depression to elation to confusion and back again and ultimately he is a compelling character to follow. Unlike many Murdoch novels, there are no truly dislikable inhabitants in the novel and many of them suffer heartbreak or a deep struggle of some kind whether they be male or female. There are some wonderful cameos from a psychic Edward sees to Mr. Blinnet, Thomas’s crazy, not crazy client, Sarah’s mother Elspeth with her brusque feminism and Willy a Professor who gets teary eyed every time someone mentions camels, as his father was killed by one, and who believes in ‘salvation by Proust.’

Then there are Edwards family in Seegard who are especially bewitching with the three women described alternately as ‘cloistered princesses in a castle waiting for a knight,’ ‘elf maidens’ or ‘taboo holy women’. Perhaps that is the effect of the house and its surroundings which are drawn so beautifully, especially the secret grotto where the lingam stone stands and the misty fens that surround the property. Edward spends a lot of his time there confused as to what is real and at the end of the novel much of went on there is still unclear.

At the same time in London conversations often turn to topics that twenty four years later are still current; computers, nuclear war and the environment, and it seems both ironic and prescient listening to the discussion about computers as Gods and lines such as, ‘children now are brought up on computers, not books, that’s part of the trouble’. There is humor in the book particularly in the drawing room scenes Murdoch excels at, Harry in particular comes out with some sweeping generalizations about women and love, morality and science while trying to bamboozle Midge or Stuart into making decisions about their lives, he is a sometimes overwhelming force of nature but pales into comparison against the enigmatic and Godlike Jesse. Stuart himself is a complex character whose cognitive meanderings can sometimes get tiresome but who you ultimately feel compassion for as his sufferings about morality, faith and purpose, get pushed aside by his brother and father’s dramas and who is constantly either berated by everyone or having things thrown at him in frustration.

The women of the novel range from maidens to mystics, feminists and housewives, and are equally compelling from the perfectly attired but bored Midge, to the frumpy but intelligent Brownie and the fragile but beguiling llona. They have a greater voice in this novel than many of the other Murdoch novels I have read and although suffering as much as the men, have as much if not more strength to carry on and get on with their lives even if those lives are difficult. Although the men may appear to have all the force and charisma in the novel it is the women who have the power to judge, condemn and forgive.

With such a cast of characters this is a convoluted and compelling book with the usual beautiful and thoughtful writing I’ve come to expect from Iris Murdoch as well as occasional mind taxing philosophizing and a mix of love, tragedy and humor. Edward himself seems to make an attempt at describing it by the end of the novel;

‘At so many points anything being otherwise could have made everything be otherwise. In another way it’s a whole complex thing, internally connected, like a dark globe, a dark world, as if we were all parts of a single drama, living inside a work of art.’

The book may not quite be a ‘dark world’ but it is a very human one.

Some favorite lines

‘Only Edward could not cry properly, not as he had seen girls cry in gushing pouring streams. His tears came forth painfully as a small and healthless dew’.

“Happiness, that’s what life’s about, it’s your job to be happy, not to spread gloom and despair all round. Don’t be so selfish. Get your courage back, get your narcissism back, get your myth back, straighten your spine and believe in yourself again.”

“Sometimes, because of a catastrophe, a bereavement or some total loss of self-esteem, our falsehoods become pernicious, and we are forced to choose between some painful recognition of truth and an ever more frenzied and aggressive manufacturing of lies.”

‘The sun was shining and the day had established itself as a warm summer day, a London summer day with a London light and dustiness and haze of green trees and resonance of sound and emergence of colour which can seem, according to one’s mood, so genial and festive and full of spacious celebration, or so stifling and oppressive and full of ghostly nostalgia.’

‘With a demonic accuracy, the pain of jealousy had been added now to all the others. Jealousy lasts forever. Bad news for the young.’

‘The idea of goodness is romantic opium, it’s a killer in the end.’

[BAM doesn’t answer to her real name · Rating 3 out of 5]

I think this would keep my attention if I were reading a paper baby more than the audio. This will not be my favorite once I've read all of her works

[Italo Perazzoli · Rating 4 out of 5]

'There is so much good that we can all do, & we must have the energy to do it.' -The Good Apprentice (Brownie)


The Prodigal Son is a long chapter where the author introduces the main characters.
“He was a God, he had become divine, he was experiencing the good absolute, the vision of the visions, the annihilation of the ego.”

Ego, in psychoanalytic theory, that portion of the human personality which is experienced as the “self” or “I” and is in contact with the external world through perception. It is said to be the part that remembers, evaluates, plans, and in other ways is responsive to and acts in the surrounding physical and social world. According to psychoanalytic theory, the ego coexists with the id (said to be the agency of primitive drives) and superego (considered to be the ethical component of personality) as one of three agencies proposed by Sigmund Freud in description of the dynamics of the human mind.
Ego (Latin: “I”), according to Freud, comprises the executive functions of personality by serving as the integrator of the outer and inner worlds as well as of the id and the superego.


The ego gives continuity and consistency to behaviour by providing a personal point of reference which relates the events of the past (retained in memory) with actions of the present and of the future (represented in anticipation and imagination). The ego is not coextensive with either the personality or the body, although body concepts form the core of early experiences of self. The ego, once developed, is capable of change throughout life, particularly under conditions of threat, illness, and significant changes in life circumstances.
Source: Britannica

This is the first taste of her fictional philosophy, where our archenemy are ourselves.
In my opinion Mark was a God in the sense that for a while his soul was without evil, he was good as God could not do evil. But being a human being, the nature has condemned him to death, because Mark is not outside of God, but responsible for his behavior.
This also means that on earth the battle between good and evil is infinite, the humans will never defeat the evil, because evil is human.

This means that Edward acted in good faith, he did something of stupid and he will pay the price, but this experience how will change his personality? How Edward will live with his grief and his conscience? if the world was without evil, Mark was alive?

A the centre there is a young and handsome boy of twenty years old, Edward and his best friend Mark.

Mark is a puritan he dislikes drugs and one drug will kill him, but he is pleased to share his room with Edward, his right opposite.

Between them there is a strong friendship, and then between their souls who will never die.
Edward was pleased to see Mark because he saw in his face the "Annihilation Of The Ego" a divine experience for his friend and "Mark would be grateful to him later."

But his intention caused the death of his friend, for Edward is the beginning of his death, who will be killed slowly by the remorse.

The author mining deeply in the human soul with the letters.
One of them is for Edward where the Mom of Mark shocked by the death of his beloved son, is tremendously genuine revealing her nature the essence of hate.

How Edward will live with his grief and remorse? this is the philosophical plot of this novel.
After some pages there is a passage where the author introduces Stuart who like Edward they are in love with death, Edward is depressed and Stuart (The son of Harry Cuno, (the second father of Edward) is a staunch religious.

It is clear to me that Edward needs of a stable family the natural father and mother.
Edward is surrounded by a person that is superficial, and he thinks that Edward must do the same.

An interesting question posed on this novel is 'Can a machine think like a human being?' This is a typical question between Ursula and Stuart, but the most spicy is why the young people are obsessed by sex, probably because they saw too pornography who mined their morality.
This is the beginning of a Socratic dialogue, discussing whether the pornography has corrupted the young.

Stuart and Edward are very similar; Edward caused indirectly the death of his friend and Stuart has been disappointed by religion he thinks that the antidote is reflection and prayers to live in peace, he thinks that Edward must avoid the rethoric and go in a remote location to try to do some good action to avoid madness.

Stuart is the good Samaritan for Edward, maybe he loves him, maybe not, but he care about Edward but not Harry Cuno with a difficult childhood who seems uninterested, for Stuart 'Love is only of God'

Stuart wants to be an ascetic.

Edward is desperate, his mistake is killing him, which is full of remorse and his sense of guilt, he meets Mrs Quaid to establish a contact with the defunct Mark.

At the flat of Mrs. Quaid, a strange woman with an Irish accent, smell the smell of incense the same at the house of Sarah, during the death of Mark.

Between Thomas and Edward there is a philosophical dialogue, the reader will ask why Edward chose Thomas rather than a priest, this mystery is resolved by Iris telling us that Edward does not want to speak with a priest because he feels guilty.

A guilt should be that Edward declares that he is spiritless and that 'God is the invention of happy innocent' but inside Edward there is a battle with his 'Proud Ego'

‘Truthful remorse leads to the fruitful death of the self, not to its survival as a successful liar’ – ‘Recognise lies and reject them at every point.’

Thomas wants that Edward should change his lifestyle and live peacefully, with his sense of guilt and despair, telling to him that inside him there were different self.
Edward once listened carefully to Thomas was not agree with him, telling that it was all un-useful because "I haven't got the motive"

After the seance the main preoccupation of Edward was to find his father defined by him as a stranger who does not care of his son and decided to go to "Seegard" the house of Jesse.
The childhood of Thomas was not simple, but he was happy of 'possessing' Midge his wife.
Edward wants to go Seegard not only to meet his father, but to be judge by his father for having killed Mark.

In my opinion Edward wants a rational judgment without any sentiment, and Jesse is the right person because he abandoned him during his childhood.

The description of Seegard is oppressive inside and outside, it is located in a countryside, where there is mud, high trees and the sea is closed but unreachable, but with a clear and blue sky.
Edward needs to see his father Jesse not only for a judgment but for everything.

Physically Edward and Jesse are very similar and in both there is something magical not ghosts but poltergeist, the life in the house of his father is not simple, the Mother May and the three sisters are against the progress. In this house there is the electricity but they do not use it.
Edward wants to see the sea but it is impossible to reach it because, in the middle there is a railway.
In the dialogue between Thomas and Stuart Cuno about the life of Edward emerges their selfishness and that Stuart is a stoic.

Thomas does not like Stuart, he provoke him, telling that he does not want God, but he has the attributes to be God but Stuart is disagree.

The most interesting phrase are "Can a man be absolute truthful?" (Edward?) and "Sex is said to be the substance of spirit, the abstention is dangerous, all spirituality is dangerous especially asceticism (Stuart).
The asceticism is a sort of fight against the human passions and sensible impulses.
Edward lives in Seegard from two weeks, he is nervous because he has not see his loved father Jess, he thinks that Jesse could be with a mistress somewhere in the world.

There is the magic between Ilona (Edward's sister) he saw Ilona dancing in the air in the countryside but he was not drug nor drunk.
In a piece of wood, Edward reads a phrase written by his father "I am here, do not forget me" what does it mean?

Edward suffer enormously for the lack of his father, but one day he discover a room where is father lived. he looks carefully at the paintings, and to every object that could explain the character of his father, here tbhe description is detailed.

At one point of the narration Edward and the reader will discover Jesse sitting up on a chair, the description is detailed, it is like a photograph.

The met between Jesse and his father is almost cold in the sense that the author use a frugal description of their sensations.

Edward discover that his father has wrote a letter to him never delivered and that Jesse wants that Edward should marry Ilona, but Ilona is the sister of Edward.

It seems to me that Jesse does not care of Edward, like the other people around him.
Jesse is not loved at Seegard House, there is a strong contrast between Mother May and her daughters, the main reason was his behavior.

Edward being a victim too, does not find a way to speak to his father, because Jesse is always in trance.

Edward meets the sister of Mark, Brenda Wilsden, and she asks to him what happened and why.
Edward admit his fault, Brenda does not condemn him for the drug, but for having abandoned her brother in that conditions.

Edward discover that he has been invited to Seegard's house by Mother May not for his psychological status but for Jesse.

Mother May is extremely rude telling to Edward her truth "Jesse didn't want you to exist, he wanted Cloe to have abortion."

The author speaks about the "Death - Wish" telling that it is not so negative, but it is our instinct.
To die means also the destruction of our ego, the Nirvana as the cessation of all selfish desires.
It seems that the ego is the central problem of the humanity, without it our souls were free to our body, in other words the death is the fundamental ingredient for a better spiritual life, it is our liberation. 'and the liberation of the soul is the aim of true psychology' 'Death is the centre of life. We have to learn that we are already dead; the soul must learn it now, here in the present which is all we have, the lesson of its perfect freedom (The Good Apprentice, I. Murdoch).

In my opinion the ego and the evil is complementary in the sense that without them we will free of our personalism and we use out time not to hate the others but to love the our specie.
An example is the mother of Mark that through the letters (the most intimate form of humanity) we see her profound hate for Edward not only for having, wrongly killed her son but because he is alive and she wants him dead.

Fortunately for Edward the sister of Mark wants to understand what happened and not to judge him, but try to understand what has been happened in that evening.

Being in the middle of my reading I do not know the destiny of Edward.
The sister of Mark is the only antidote of his madness.

Jesse has disappeared for the second time and his son is desperate, he will make terrible dreams and he will meet for the second time Mrs Quay.

The most intriguing question is 'Had Jesse died because Edward wanted to see a girl? It was all over again. And down that way of thought madness' (The Good Apprentice - I Murdoch)
For the character I must mention is Max Point who think that Edward is Jesse.

It seems that for Edward everything is going well until to a certain point ' Edward was now afraid that in the end he might begin to hate Mark, to see him as a demon who had ruined his life' 'Why should not Mark desire revenge?' 'He had ruined Edward's life, but Edward had taken his life away entirely.' Isn't that a great dilemma?

The most disconcerting thing in this novel is the description of the Characters.
Edward is the most fragile, he is suffering more than the other because he has a sensible soul.
The other men are victims of their ego, they want to demonstrate that they are superior and that they must possess the women.

The women are not victims, but with the exception of Brownie, the other are cruel.
One of them is Mother May who thinks that the death of Jesse is related to Edward, they are like the witches of Macbeth that stir the evil in the cauldron and then stirred up in every direction.

The central figure against the madness of Edward is the mother of Mark, because thanks to her letters full of hate, Edward has really regretted his actions, his regret is not the sum of selfishness but by his heart.


After having read the letter of the mother of Mark, where they made peace in the name of happiness and rationality, being conscious that the hate does not fix anything but will destroy both.

This novel is also about love based on happiness, in other words, the love is selfishness, and if there is a true love it is not paid.

The magicians in this novel is not only the father of Edward, but Brownie that 'see' the good and she urges to use it.

[lillian · Rating 4 out of 5]

“remorse must kill the self, not teach it new lies”
weird and lovely and agonizing and silly and GOOD! I’ve never read a book like it, excited for more Murdoch! I wish I knew more about moral philosophy etc because I feel like so much allegory went over my head but ah well it was wonderful to read while feeling like a fool too. if you take one thing from this review it’s to DRAW YOURSELF A CHARACTER CHART (spoiler alert: relationships are uhhh entangled here)

[Bryn Lerud · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am reading all of Iris Murdoch's novels in order. I read most of the books in the 80s and 90s in no order. Then about 10 years ago decided to read or reread all of them in order. I don't even know when I started this project since Goodreads has decided to get rid of the dates on my earliest book records. It's taking me a long time. There are 26 of them and I've got 4 left. So, The Good Apprentice.

The book starts with Edward giving his friend, Mark, LSD and doesn't tell him. He just wants him to have fun and have the deep experiences he has had with the drug. It's going well, then Mark falls asleep and Edward leaves for 30-60 minutes to pursue a girl. When he returns, Mark has fallen out of the window to his death.

The fallout from this horrendous mistake are many. Edward is overcome with grief and guilt and doesn't see a way forward in living the rest of his life. He's young, 20 I think. In the book we meet 2 generations of Edward's family and friends. It's a very complicated group; they are mostly introduced in a classic Murdoch scene of a dinner party organized to help extricate both Edward and his stepbrother, Stuart, from their current crises. Edward did not grow up with either of his parents. His mother, Chloe was married to his step father, Harry and died very young. Edward's father is the famous painter, Jesse Baltram. Chloe was his model and lover. Chloe's sister, Midge, is the one who throws the dinner party. She is married to a psychoanalyst, Thomas, and is having an affair with Harry. There is a lot more of this type of intrigue and complex relationships.

I think my favorite character is Thomas, the psychoanalyst. He's Scottish and Jewish and is kind of an outsider amongst the rest of the family. Some might object to him because he is very manipulative. He arranges for Edward to have certain experiences. He arranges for people to be in places when he thinks it's a good thing. The thing is, he's always right. "Don't hope for anything except the truth, to see guilt and grief in their own being. Live at peace with despair. Live quietly with your sense of guilt, and with the event and its consequences."

Well, I have not really gotten across the reason the book has impressed me so. Obviously, Edward is the good apprentice and he is an apprentice to every character in the book as he is able to open himself to what they have to teach. And at the end he is still full of grief and guilt but he's living his life.

[jüri · Rating 5 out of 5]

one of murdoch’s finest. i’m still a bit overwhelmed - as with her finest work, this one has a real emotional and metaphysical heft to it, but it’s compounded by two factors:

a) the middle section, seegard. it wouldn’t be unfair to claim this as not just one of iris’ finest bits of writing, but it’d be an understatement to say that it’s also her most terrifying.

i’ll add some context for those who haven’t read it and might wish to: edward baltram is consumed by guilt over the death of his best friend (and, let’s be honest, crush), mark wilsden, who jumped out of a window after being unknowingly dosed with LSD by edward. he recieves accusatory letters from mark’s mother every few days, and his family are no help - his stepfather, harry, is hounded by his inability to get his novel published, and his half-brother, stuart, has decided to renounce all earthly pleasures and learn to be good.
compounded by this, the advice of thomas mccaskerville, and his increasing sense of isolation, a sudden dispatch from his stepmother, may, inviting him to the house of his reclusive painter father, jesse, sends him to their isolated house in the country; where he is held under the thrall of his stepmother and two sisters, each more faerie than woman.

to reveal too much about this would do a gross disservice to how murdoch writes about this strange dynamic, but to my eyes, it’s perfect - a modern update of the gothic novel that bursts with its own horrifying aura of mystery and magic. like the finest horror fiction, it leaves just enough to the imagination to be truly unsettling; but as with dame iris’ best work, it’s also a stunning cross-section of guilt and emotional repression gone unheeded.

point b), however, is the resolution. each iris murdoch novel begins with an introductory set of scenes where she pulls the wool over our eyes and sets us up for an enchantment. here, she methodically lifts that enchantment, while still leaving just enough unexplained to remind the reader that the world, and the emotions we deal with living in it, is ever so lightly more rich and strange than we would like to admit.

plus, the dialogue is absolutely hilarious!

[Jo · Rating 3 out of 5]

It has been too long since I read Murdoch. My plan was to read all of her books in chronological order since her death in 1999, but when it is almost 2 years (2004, 2006, 2008, 2010) between books... that doesn't bode well! (There are only four left after this one.) Unlike the last one, I did enjoy reading this one, but it wasn't my favorite Murdoch. Story is of a young man and his family. The young man was involved in a dear friend's accidental death and is having a hard time dealing with it. His family is a mixed bag. He was raised by his step-father, but idolizes his father (along with everyone else). His aunt and step-father are having an affair, and this book gave me some real personal insight on all parties involved. His half-brother is in transition and is in a phase where he seems to be making religious commitments, even though he is not religious. His step-mother and half-sisters are living in his father's 'palace' with a very bizarre, rigid routine. The story can be summed up in a quote from one of the letters near the end. 'Life is full of terrible things and one must look into the future and think about what happiness one can create for oneself and others. There is so much good that we can all do, and we must have the energy to do it.' Spoiler alert: one difference between this Murdoch and others is that everyone seems to end up back where they started, but still be very different people due to their experiences in the story. Usually, Murdoch has them all end up somewhere totally else at the end, either in a completely different relationship or physical location

[Laura]

4* Living on Paper: Letters from Iris Murdoch, 1934-1995
5* Iris: A Memoir of Iris Murdoch
5* Iris Murdoch: Dream Girl
4* A Severed Head
4* The Sea, the Sea
4* The Black Prince
4* The Bell
TR Under the Net
TR The Sacred and Profane Love Machine
TR A Fairly Honourable Defeat
TR The Nice and the Good
TR The Philosopher's Pupil
TR The Sandcastle
TR The Italian Girl
TR The Good Apprentice
TR The Red and the Green

[Marvin · Rating 1 out of 5]

Murdoch is a highly respected author, but this is just plain boring, with stilted conversations that are totally implausible & repetitious. The author is just way too self-indulgent, which is too bad, because the moral themes at the heart of the story could be compelling.

[Beth · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is my first read of Iris Murdoch, and after taking a while to adjust to her, I found myself completely absorbed. The book follows the internal emotional workings of half a dozen characters in response to changing events in their lives. While I was reading this book, I was asked several time what it was about. As my reading progressed, I found myself answering that the book is about good and evil (terms I don't use frequently or lightly), but that it's not simple... it's very complex. Nothing much "happens" to most of the characters, so if you like following an action story, this book is probably not for you. But if you like thinking/reading about one's thoughts and motivations in regards to simple action, and the unintended affects of those actions upon others, then I highly recommend "The Good Apprentice"

[André Bogaert · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hoe gaat een moderne mens, die niet (meer) in God gelooft, om met de kronkels van zijn innerlijk leven: met schuldgevoel, doodsverlangen, verliefdheid, trouw en ontrouw, vriendschap enz. Iris Murdoch legt de pogingen van haar tijdgenoten om met die innerlijke realiteiten klaar te komen in het lang en het breed vast in haar boek: De Leertijd. Ik raad het boek aan aan al wie zich zorgen maakt om de mens van morgen, de mens die door het wegvallen van de eerder geruststellende en in die zin gemakkelijke antwoorden van de godsdiensten gekweld wordt of overgeleverd aan zichzelf, aan zijn innerlijke verscheurdheid, aan zijn verwarring en twijfels. Indachtig het woord van Arthur C. Clarke: "De grootste tragedie in de hele geschiedenis van de mensheid is de kidnapping van de moraal door de godsdienst".

[Jim · Rating 3 out of 5]

compelling and irritating in equal measure, yet I enjoyed it...her weakness with plot is compensated by her interest in character, and just because most humans don't talk to each other the way these neurotic toffs do, doesn't mean they shouldn't. Having said that, a little goes a LOOONG way. Given that, it's somewhat surprising that she does have a way with comedy.

[Peter Allum · Rating 2 out of 5]

“The Good Apprentice” is included as a contender for lasting literary influence in Bloom’s “Western Canon”. This was my first reading of Murdoch’s work and I was not convinced.

The novel is clearly rich in symbolism—biblical, classical, faeries, elves, “tree men”. Much of it went over my head but is probably a gold mine for academics.

The novel was sufficiently engrossing to make me think hard about why, in the end, I didn’t admire it. Several reasons:

—The characters in the story are more archetypes than unique individuals. The brilliant but manipulative psychologist; the naive but well-Intentioned youth; the wounded youth; the charismatic sex-god painter; etc. They are effectively puppets for working through the author’s intellectual ideas.

—The world of the novel is blinkered, hermetic. Relatively wealthy individuals, educated, thoughtful, articulate. But also blinkered about life outside their social setting. Only a passing mention of pollution and other global dangers. No attention to the wider national or global context. Life outside London is lived in an architecturally interesting country home. And life outside the U.K. is represented by the US (luxurious lifestyles and good academic work opportunities), Italy (home of book publishers and a possible retirement setting), India and Paris (exotic holidays). From today’s perspective, this looks willfully ignorant; surely it seemed narrowly confined even in the 80s.

—the sense of hermetic, cloistered world is underlined by the structure of the novel. Rather than branching out, it folds back in on itself through coincidental meetings, and the discovery of unknown connections between events and characters. This is a world of no more than 2-3 degrees of separation: old school friends; therapist clients; love interests, etc.

—Much of the novel relates to the challenges of doing good in the world. How to decide what is good. How to do good, when others interpret “doing good” as interfering or being judgmental. My problem is that Murdoch’s world has an instinctive bias towards the good. Even though situations feel desperate and individuals are in mental agony, the clear message is that this will not last. A combination of generally well-intentioned support from others, guidance (by the universe?) through magic and coincidence, and the healing powers of time lead eventually to positive outcomes and personal growth. Murdoch’s novelistic arc bends strongly towards the good. Given this philosophical set-up and the puppet-like nature of the protagonists, I didn’t feel the novel was taking many risks.

[Chrystal · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 stars rounded up to 5.00 - this is my 4th Iris Murdoch and my favorite so far. I also gave "The Sea, the Sea" 4.5 stars so "The Good Apprentice" deserves to be up a little higher on the scale.

This book has left me emotionally drained. I found myself reading it compulsively and when I wasn't reading, I was thinking about it all the time!

As expected in an Iris Murdoch novel, we find the usual large cast of mad hatters, but whereas we would normally find them ALL to be self-serving, egotistical, shameless, or just demented, in "The Good Apprentice" we not only find a fair share of those, but also a few others who are remorseful (Edward), unselfish and moral (Stuart), forgiving (Brownie). There are as many good and empathetic people here as there are destructive, selfish and awful people.

There were some truly startling scenes here that made me sit up straight in my easy chair. Both scenes with Mrs Quaid were stupendous; the seance and later the dream in front of the TV. The entire middle section at Seegard was amazing, mysterious, and unlike any scenes in Murdoch's other books I have read. I sped through that section, enthralled. All the scenes with Brownie were heavily charged with strong emotion.

One can't summarize an Iris Murdoch novel. It's not possible. The plots are too convoluted, the characters too many. What is incredible is how intricately connected they all are, but not confusing! How did she manage it?!

At the end of the book, Edward himself summarizes the whole thing up pretty well:

"In a way it's all a muddle starting off with an accident: my breakdown, drugs, telepathy, my father's illness, cloistered neurotic women, people arriving unexpectedly, all sorts of things which happened by pure chance. At so many points anything being otherwise could have made everything be otherwise. In another way it's a whole complex thing, internally connected, like a dark globe, a dark world, as if we were all parts of a single drama, living inside a work of art. Perhaps important things in life are always like that, so that you can think of them both ways."

[William Lambert · Rating 2 out of 5]

As with most philosophical novels, The Good Apprentice does not suffer from a lack of interesting questions. Conveniently, there is a psychologist character in the novel, Thomas, who pops in every hundred pages or so to comb his hair and remind the reader that these questions do, nominally, have something to do with the ambling plot and its ambling, archetypal characters. It is a bloated novel. I can't count the number of times I wondered to myself, Hasn't this character had this monologue three times already? Occasionally Murdoch achieves good writing but she wanders back to italics every few pages like a nicotine addict limping to a tobacco shop and things start getting dreadfully melodramatic. For a novel the back cover of which describes as "funny and compelling," it falls pretty wide of the mark.
Yet for all that I can't say I wouldn't want to give Murdoch another shot. Really the main problem is that The Good Apprentice is bloated, bloated to the point it is rendered immobile. Melodrama in small doses I can handle and even enjoy. There was simply too much spread too thickly across plots I never believed in past page 50 or so. But I agree with Murdoch in many of her 'conclusions' - if there is one major improvement she makes on the standard philosophical novel here, it is that Murdoch doesn't have so many of those - and would love to see them dealt with in a sleeker, more able-bodied work. The pressure of being Good is inescapable and human and it is a tragedy that so many seek to deny it (though make no mistake, this fanciful rejection of ethical anguish is no new trend in the human character). The answer to our questions, which are still larvae, we do not even understand what they are yet, is probably responsibility for our fellow man. I sincerely hope Murdoch, at some point in her career, achieved her responsibility as a novelist and wrote a great novel. Much to my chagrin this is not that.

[George · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting, engaging novel about two half brothers, Edward and Stuart, whose lives are affected by guilt, morality and the searching for meaning in life. Edward is tormented by the accidental death of his friend. Edward had placed a drug in his best friend’s food, as a laugh, then left the friend in their shared college room. When Edward returned he discovered that his friend had left the room via the bedroom window and died from the fall. Stuart attempts to achieve goodness through self renunciation.

Edward is consumed with guilt for his prank. Initially he is devastated for weeks, wallowing in self pity. He reconnects with his estranged father, Jesse Beltran, now a middle aged reclusive painter. Stuart abandons his academic career in mathematics to undergo severe self discipline, thinking this will be his path to goodness.

The other main characters in this novel are Harry Cuno, Stuart’s stepfather. Harry Cuno is having an affair with Edward’s mother, Midge.

An entertaining story exploring themes of love, forgiveness and redemption. The characters are interesting and well developed. There is good plot momentum throughout the novel. Iris Murdoch fans should find this book to be a satisfying reading experience.

This book was shortlisted for the 1985 Booker Prize.

[Rhiannon Grant · Rating 2 out of 5]

I didn't enjoy reading this book - I found the characters unlikable, the unrelenting patriarchy and compulsory heterosexuality (and classism) of the setting annoying, and the only character I had any sympathy for (Thomas) was persistently described using antisemitic stereotypes. It's possible I have a genre clash here, for example perhaps because I don't get on with this sort of 'social comedy' as the back cover describes it (I think I actually threw Pride and Prejudice across the room, I certainly didn't finish it, and I didn't get past the first chapter of Daniel Deronda, if that helps place the sort of other things I think this is similar to and which I also dislike). I can construct a narrative in which the author thinks she is satirising the patriarchy and heterosexism of the characters, but for the same reasons I just want Hamlet to go back to university and let me get out of the theatre, I just wanted Edward to confess his love to Mark and stop this whole ridiculous plot before it got going, or at the very least for Midge to get a job and stop being such a doormat, so it doesn't work for me as satire.

[Volodymyr Babich · Rating 1 out of 5]

Overwrought, melodramatic, overacted, ostentatious, over-the-top dialogs. I was listening to a recording of this book and it felt like every sentence should be ending with an exclamation mark. So much fake fervor that it got tiresome very quickly.

Unrelatable, flat, and ultimately forgettable characters are spawned into existence, given a stage to shout at us, the readers, their pseudo-profound drivel, and then disappeared. There are some connections (family, friendship, love, hate) among them, but the author could not be bothered to develop them. Rather, let's rush to introduce another, and another, and another character for no reason. As if the goal is to use up as many names as possible.

Life is too short to read bad books. This is a bad book.

[Mia Shanely · Rating 4 out of 5]

I can’t lie this book was really entertaining the drama was insane and the author does a really good job of writing characters that feel very real. The main character is the definition of emo and annoying college student. The satire elements of the book were perfect and I loved how the author combined 1980s England with the very fantasy feeling Seegard. Also big points that a lot of the characters were queer. - 1 points for the weird kinda incest stuff that was going on I didn’t fuck w that. Otherwise I loved it so good job to my English prof yay Jamie!