389
Book
ReviewThe
`True' And The `Good' Still Not SortedIris Murdoch as I Knew Her. A.N. Wilson,
2003. London: Arrow Books; ISBN 0090723107, 288 pp., £7.99, paper
SAGE Publications, Inc.2007DOI: 10.1177/09675507070140040704
FranciscaVeale
University of Southampton
Wilson
has produced an interesting biography of a woman he knew – the philosopher
and novelist Iris Murdoch. The title consequentially suggests a subjective
viewpoint of his perception of her and gives the book a much more personal
touch than usual for a biography. As it is in large parts very autobiographical,
it actually can be seen as a true amalgamation of autobiography and biography.
Wilson admits that he felt `handicapped' in writing Iris Murdoch's biography
because of having `known' her and her husband, John Bayley, but points out
that this is also a vantage point based on a better insight and understanding
of her also as a person. It is a question that arises for any biographer,
depending on how well he or she knows the subject. However, Wilson unfortunately
creates his own quandary, as he describes his dilemma which spins a thread
through the whole book, in at times an apologetic manner – `I had also
lost faith in the possibility of writing biog- raphy' – when he debates
with himself whether or not he should write Iris Murdoch's biography in a
diary-style approach. Wilson's philosophical excuse-like question is whether
`the human personality was altogether more protean, complex and strange than
the simple exercise of biography would usually suggest?' And as he had given
the answer already at the beginning at the book that `a biography of a writer
[Murdoch] which came close to understanding the mystery of its
390
subjects
would in all likelihood have ceased to be a biography' (p. 7), it seems pointless
and tiresome. Then again, if one reads the book as a truly auto/biographical
account in the context of Wilson's personal knowledge and understanding of
Iris Murdoch, his own true feelings along with his fondness for her and her
works, plus an eagerness to `restore' the one-sided picture John Bayley portrayed
in Iris at its film version, then it is an enjoyable book. After stating firmly
`I'm not writing her biog, and that's that', Wilson loses him- self in doubts
and exposes his mixed feelings: My purpose in the book is not to `expose'
every detail of IM's private life, as a Communist, a lover, a wife or a friend.
It is, rather, to see whether it is possible to discover from the life those
elements of her revealed personality that gave birth to the works. As soon
as I began to compare things which she had told me about herself with the
facts as they unfolded, I became aware of the disparity between appearance
and reality. (p. 81) Wilson comments, `she protected herself by shameless
and habitual social lying ... IM was happy in Murdochland, and not always
at home in the world of the real'. She for example lied to him about her still
existing relatives in Ireland. All this may explain his difficulty in writing
her biography and also could be seen as a reason why she would have liked
Wilson to compose her `official' biography, because his discretion would have
been the better part of valour. Wilson recollects that she always resented
the notion of becoming the subject of a biography: `She bitterly resented
the idea that it should be biographical, and says that it must concentrate
entirely on her “ideas”.' Her character Bradley Pearson in The
Black Prince contemplates that `life is unlike art ... characters in art can
have unassailable dignity, whereas charac- ters in life have none'. In fact,
Wilson does open the door to Iris Murdoch and does shine a light on what she
was about, as mirrored in the character of Bradley Pearson: `If you write,
write from the heart, yet carefully, objective.' However, the light is partial
and he is most certainly not objective in his account of her and his relationship
with her and her husband. Was the task he took on impossible? Certainly, Murdoch
would not give him enough autobiographical information or substance to work
with and was `cagey' with private information about herself. As Wilson keeps
debating whether he should or should not write/have written the biography:
`It is what one looks for and seldom ever gets from a literary biography' – he throws in a one-liner: `thinking how much, much more I should prefer having
an affair with IM to writing her biography. Dammit, why not?' What does this
say about his relationship and his true feelings for her? Has Wilson used
the opportunity to write Iris Murdoch's biography just as a `storyline', as
the egomaniac in search of himself in her
391
novels?
Is it part of the recognition he claims all writers are in search of? Wilson's
book is an entertaining mix of anecdotes, stories, diary entries, use of tape
recordings, philosophical discourse, facts and fiction, descrip- tions of
surroundings and people he or she knew. He makes it clear that he wishes to
`restore' Iris Murdoch's true and brilliant personality as a great novelist
and philosopher, which he feels has been damaged in recent years by her husbands
publications, the film or Conradi's work. Consequently, Wilson's biography
of Iris Murdoch can be seen in the light of Scott's (1998: 44) conclusion
about the role and responsibility of the biographer: in the depiction of the
`life' ... do not take away the responsibility of the author for producing
an interpretation. It follows that this account is one of many that could
have been made. Indeed, the closure occasioned by the researcher necessarily
treats the evidence as fixed and reliable and glosses over ambivalence and
uncertainty. Wilson's search for and debate on the nature of `the truth' and
`the good' throughout the book, can possibly be seen in parallel with Iris
Murdoch's lifelong search for answers about religion, politics, philosophy
and human relationships. The reader can certainly feel the `goodness' of Iris
Murdoch, which Wilson shows by matching her philosophical work with her novels
and with much of her personality. In conclusion, one is inclined to agree
with Wilson that `the best picture of Iris Murdoch is actually to be found
in the novels of Iris Murdoch. She certainly felt this. She was otherwise
a more than usually secretive person'.