Iris Murdoch - The Book And The Brotherhood

`You mean taking his wife?'

`No, I was thinking of his pushing Duncan into the Cherwell – that was something so ugly and gratuitous – not that we know what happened of course – Rose, do you remember how Crimond danced that night?'

`I didn't see him.'

`He was like a demon, it was like seeing a god dance, a destructive, creative powerful thing. We've all been so obsessed with closing our ranks because of the harm he did to Duncan -ever since the business in Ireland we've undervalued Crimond. We've thought of him as unsuccessful and shabby, and surly, like a dog prowling around outside – and then as our politics diverged so much, and that really did matter -'

`And still matters.'

`Yes, I'll come to that in a moment, we began to add up Crimond to be generally no good, wrong morals, wrong politics, irresponsible, vindictive, a bit dotty- How could such a person write a good book?'

`But you think he has.'

`Rose, it's an extraordinary book, I'm quite carried away -I'm sure I'm not wrong about it.'

`And not envious?'

`A bit, but that doesn't matter, admiration overcomes envy. One should be inspired by something good even if one disagrees.'

`So you disagree?'

`Of course I disagree!'

Gerard was not exactly tearing his hair but pulling his hands through it as if' he wanted to straighten out its glossy curls lock by lock. His face, shining with light as it now seemed to Rose, was like a beautiful comic mask. She was touched, but more deeply disturbed and frightened, by his emotion, which she could not yet understand.

`So it's good, and of course, you disagree, but at least it's finished. You've read it – and there we are.'

`No, we aren't there – not where you think -'

`I don't think anything, Gerard. Do calm down. Will you review it?'

` Review it? I don't know, I don't suppose anyone will ask me, that's not important -'

`I'm glad you think so. Have you told Crimond you like it, have you seen him?'

`No, no, I haven't been in touch with him. That doesn't matter, now, either.'

Rose felt some relief. She was disturbed by this excited tall, about that dangerous book. All her old fears of Crimond were alert, that he would somehow damage Gerard, that the book itself would damage him, at the very least because he would be made unhappy by envious regrets. There was also, and she felt it now like the first symptoms of a fell disease, her fear of sonic amazing rapprochement whereby Crimond would revenge him self on her by making friends with his enemy and taking Gerard away. She wanted the book episode to be over; fist Gerard, moved by his generosity from envy to admiration, to discuss the thing, and praise it, and then forget it, and everything to be as before, with Crimond, the surly dog, at a safe distance.

`I imagine not everyone will like the book.'

`No, they won't, some will hate it, some I'm afraid will love it.'

,You evidently don't hate it as it seems to excite you so! I can't believe it's all that interesting, a book on political theory. After all there are hundreds of them.'

`Rose, it's brilliant, it's all that we thought it might be when we decided it was worth financing it. It's all we hoped – it's also all we feared, later on that is. It will be immensely read, immensely discussed, and I believe, very influential. It's odd, I can remember now, which I'd somehow forgotten, what we felt about Crimond all those years ago when we thought what it remarkable man he was and how he'd be able to speak for all of iis, for us. Of course it isn't at all what we expected then, it's more than that, and it's not what we want to hear now, though we have to hear it.'

`I wish you wouldn't keep talking about "we" – just speak for yourself – you keep on imagining there's some kind of brotherhood, but we're scattered, we aren't a band of brothers, just solitary worried individuals, not even young any more.'

`Yes, yes, dear Rose, how well you put it -!'

`You're interested in the book because you know about it, because you know Crimond, because you financed the thing. If it was by someone you'd never heard of you'd ignore it. What's so good about this horrible book?'

`Why do you think it's horrible? You mustn't. It's not just another book about political theory, it's a synthesis, it's immensely long, it's about everything.'

`Then it must be a mess and a failure.'

`But it isn't. My God, the man's learning, his patience, what he's read, how he's thought!'

`You've read and thought too.'

`No, I haven't. Crimond said I'd stopped thinking, that what I'd been doing all my life wasn't thinking. And in a way he was right.'

`That's absurd, he's an absurd man. What will he do now the book's over, fade away? Go off to Eastern Europe?'

`Oh he won't go to Eastern Europe, he belongs here. Maybe he'll write another equally long book refuting this one! He's quite capable of it! But this volume will take a lot of digesting. I didn't know one of them could produce such a book now.'

`Who are "they"?'

`Oh Marxists, neo-Marxists, revisionists, whatever they call themselves. I don't know whether Crimond is "really" a Marxist, or what that means now, they don't know themselves. I suppose he's a sort of maverick Marxist, as their best thinkers are. The only good Marxist is a mad Marxist. It's not enough to be a revisionist, you've got to bea bit mad too- to be able to see the present world, to imagine the magnitud,.I what's happening.'

`Well, I always said he was mad,' said Rose, 'and if the book is entirely wrong-headed -'

Yes, it is – but one has got to understand -'

Crimond believes in one-party government – one doesn’t have to go any farther than that.'

`Well, he does and he doesn't – his argument is mush larger -'

`I should think,' said Rose, 'that there is nothing larger than that matter.'

`Oh Rose, Rose!' Gerard suddenly reached his hand across the table and seized hers. 'What a lovely answer.' She held onto his warm dear hand which mattered so much more than any book, more than the fate of democratic government, moic than the fate of the human race. 'But, my dear Rose, we have to think, we have to fight, we have to move, we can't stand still, everything is moving so fast -'

`You mean technology? Is Crimond's book about technology?'

`Yes, but as I said it's about everything. He said to me ages ago that he just had to do it all for himself, to explain the whole of philosophy to himself, alone. And that's what he's done, the preSocratics, Plato, Aristotle, Plotinus, right up to the present, and Eastern philosophy too – and that means morality, religion, art, it all comes in, there's a splendid chapter on Augustine, and he writes so well, it's funny and witty, all sorts of people will read it -'

`But if it's all wrong that seems rather a pity!'

`Yes. It could enflame a lot of thoughtless smashers. He thinks liberal democracy is done for. He's a sort of pessimistic utopian. And of course we're right, all right I'm right, and he's wrong – but my rightness – needs to be changed – shaken, uprooted, replanted, enlightened…'

`I think this book will be a nine days' wonder,' said Rose, `and then we can all relax! Even you may feel a bit more normal tomorrow morning. You're drunk on whisky and Crimond!' 1t may be that it's directed simply at me.'

`Surely you don't think -?' There may be a small number of `I don't mean literally. The people who will understand the book and be ready for it, and they are the people it is for – some will agree, some will disagree, but they'll have received an important communication. It may be like a signal by heliograph – there's only one point where it's received, and there it's dazzling.'