Iris Murdoch - Under the Net

I hesitated at the door. I hate entering a crowded room and feeling a whole gallery of faces focused upon me. I felt tempted to go away again; but at last, making an inward gesture of detachment, I went in. The room was full of young men, all talking at once and drinking cups of tea, but I needn't have troubled about the faces, as no one paid any attention to my entry except Dave himself. He was sitting in a corner a little apart from the mike, and raised his hand when he saw me with the dignified gesture of a patriarch greeting the appearance of an expected sign. Not that Dave is a patriarchal Hebrew to look at. He is fattish and baldish with merry brown eyes and podgy hands, a slightly guttural voice and an imperfect command of English. Finn was sitting near him on the floor with his back to the wall and his legs stretched out like the victim of an accident.

I made my way past several beardless youths, stepped over Finn, and shook hands with Dave. I gave Finn a friendly kick and seated myself on the edge of the table. A youth handed me a cup of tea automatically, talking back over his shoulder as he did so. Ought brings you back to is in the end. Yes, but what sort of is?

'I see it still goes on,' I said.

'A natural human activity,' said Dave with a slight frown. Then he looked at me amiably.

'I hear you are in a kettle of fish,' he said, raising his voice somewhat above the din.

'Might call it so,' I said cautiously, sipping my tea. I never overdo my troubles to Dave, for he is so often sarcastic and unsympathetic about them.

'If I would be you,' said Dave, 'I would take a proper job.' He pointed to the white wall of the hospital which loomed very close outside the window.

'There they want always orderlies,' he said. 'You might even be a nurse. Or you could do something for part time.'

Dave was constantly making this suggestion; I can't think why, as there were few pieces of advice which, on the face of it, I was less likely to follow. I think he did it partly to annoy me. At other times he would press upon me the desirability of being a probation officer or a factory inspector or a teacher in an elementary school.

I looked at the wall of the hospital. 'To save my soul,' I said.

'Not therefore!' said Dave scornfully. 'Always you are thinking of your soul. Precisely it is not to think of your soul, but to think of other people.'

I could see that there was something in this, though I didn't need Dave to point it out, and I couldn't see that there was anything to be done about it at the moment. Finn threw me a cigarette. In a mild way he always tried to protect me from Dave. The immediate problem was to find a sympathetic place to live, and until this was fixed nothing else mattered. I have to keep on writing if I'm to make ends meet, and when I am homeless I can settle down to nothing.

When I'd finished my tea I set off on a quiet tour of Dave's flat. Living-room, Dave's bedroom, spare room, bathroom, and kitchen. I inspected the spare room with care. It also looked out on to the wall of the hospital, which at this point seemed to stand even closer. The room was painted a sickly golden brown and was spartan in its appointments. At the moment it was strewn with Finn's belongings. It could be worse. As I was examining the wardrobe, Dave came in. He knew very well what was in my mind.

'No, Jake,' he said. 'Definitely not.'

'Why not?'

'We must not be two nervous wrecks living together.'

'You old python!' I said. Dave is not a nervous wreck, but as tough as an old boot. I didn't argue though, because I was a little off the idea myself because of Jehovah and the Trinity. 'Since you're turning me out,' I said, 'you are in duty bound to make a constructive suggestion.'

'You were never in, Jake,' said Dave, 'but I will try to think.' Dave knows my requirements. We went back to the other room and the din broke over us again.

'You should try the ladies, not?'

'Not,' I said. 'I've had the ladies.'

'Sometimes you make me sick, Jake.'

'I can't help my psychology. After all, freedom is only an idea.'

'It's in the third Critique,' Dave shouted to someone across the room.

'Which ladies, anyway?' I asked.

'I don't know your women,' said Dave, 'but if you paid a few visits someone might give you an idea.'

I felt that Dave would be more pleased to see me when I had established myself elsewhere. Finn, who was lying with his head under the table, suddenly said, 'Try Anna Quentin.' Finn sometimes has the most extraordinary intuitions.

This name stuck into me like a dart. 'How can I?' I said. 'Nothing could be more impossible,' I added.

'Ah, you are still so,' said Dave.

'I am not so at all,' I said. 'Anyway I have no notion where she is.' And I turned away from them towards the window. I don't like people reading things in my face.

'He's off!' said Dave, who knows me well.

'Suggest something else,' I said.

'I suggest you are a big fool,' said Dave. 'Society should take you by the neck and shake you and make you do a sensible job. Then in your evenings you would have the possibility to write a great book.'

I could see that Dave was in one of his bad moods. The noise was mounting. With my foot I pushed my suitcase under the table beside Finn.

'Can I leave this here?'

How do you know which is your real self anyway? someone was asking.

'You can leave them both here,' said Dave.

'I'll ring up later,' I said. And I left them.

I was still in some pain from the name that Finn had uttered. But in the midst of the pain a queer melody had been set going; a little flute that piped me to be away. It was not of course that I had the slightest intention of looking for Anna, but I wanted to be alone with the thought of her. I am not a mystic about women. I like the women in novels by James and Conrad who are so peculiarly flower-like and who are described as 'guileless, profound, confident, and trustful'. That 'profound' is good; fluttering white hands and as deep as the sea. But I have never met any of these women in real life. I like to read about them, but then I like to read about Pegasus and Chrysaor. The women that I know are often inexperienced, inarticulate, credulous, and simple; but I see no reason to call them deep because they manifest qualities which would make us call men self-absorbed. Or if they are cunning they deceive themselves and others in much the same way as men do. It is the same deception that we are all involved in; except in so far as women are always a little more unbalanced by the part they have to act. Like high-heeled shoes which shift the inward organs in the course of time. Few things disgust me more than these pretended profundities.

Yet I had found Anna deep. I cannot think what it is about her that would justify me in calling her mysterious, and yet she always seemed to me to be an unfathomable being. Dave once said to me that to find a person inexhaustible is simply the definition of love, so perhaps I loved Anna. She has a husky-speaking voice and a tenderly moulded face which is constantly lit by a warm intent glow from within. It is a face full of yearning, yet poised upon itself without any trace of discontent. She has heavy brown hair which is piled up in curving archaic coils, or was when I knew her first. All that was a long time ago. Anna is six years older than I am, and when I first met her she did a singing act with her sister Sadie. Anna provided the voice and Sadie provided the flash. Anna has a contralto voice that would break your heart even over the radio; and she makes little gestures while she sings which make her quite irresistible face to face. She seems to throw the song into your heart, at least this was what she did to me the first time I heard her, and I never got over it.

Anna is about as like her sister as a sweet blackbird is like some sort of rather dangerous tropical fish, and later on the act broke up. This was partly I think because they couldn't stand each other, and partly because their ambitions diverged. About this period, if you remember, British films were passing through a critical phase. The Bounty Belfounder Company had just been set up, and old Phantasifilms Ltd had come into new hands. But neither company seemed able to discover any new stars, although there were the usual old faithfuls, and time and again some youngster would receive the routine press fanfare and then pass away in the course of one picture with the noise and the brevity of a firework. Phantasifilms evidently decided that human beings were had box office and started on their series of animal pictures, and hey did make one or two discoveries in the animal kingdom: notably of course the Alsatian, Mister Mars, whose sentimental escapes probably saved them from bankruptcy. Bounty Belfounder was from the start a much more successful concern, and it was in this region that Sadie soon set about selling her talents; and Sadie, as you know, did turn out to be a star.