24.01.04
Murdoch seems uniquely talented in her ability to animate landscapes, to sustain metaphors, to show how personality is something constructed by other people. If only her novels weren't all so similar - an outsider enters an isolated community, people swim, the plot is enacted mainly through emotion until someone dies near the end. There is a sense that Murdoch is lazily plagiarising herself, making the experience of reading her novels strangely unsatisfying. Marks gained for elegance; marks lost for tedium.
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