Murdoch as Philosopher

 Long ago, in Iris Murdoch's first novel, Under the Net, I read a passage that embarrassed me:

Dave does extramural work for the university, and collects about him many youths who have a part-time interest in truth. Dave's pupils adore him, but there is a permanent fight on between him and them. They aspire like sunflowers. They are all natural metaphysicians, or so Dave says in a tone of disgust. This seems to me a wonderful thing to be, but it inspires in Dave a passion of opposition. To Dave's pupils the world is a mystery; a mystery to which it should be reasonably possible to discover a key. The key should be something of the sort that could be contained in a book of some eight hundred pages. To find the key would not necessarily be a simple matter, but Dave's pupils feel sure that the dedication of between four and ten hours a week, excluding university vacations, should suffice to find it. They do not conceive that the matter should be either more simple or more complex than that.

I found the passage uncomfortable, as depicting too clearly the attitude I then had toward philosophy. The character Dave is Dave Gellman, a philosopher, of which it is also said

Most of our conversations consisted of me saying something and Dave's saying he didn't understand me and my saying it again and Dave's getting very impatient. It took me some time to realize that when Dave said he didn't understand, what he meant was that what I said was nonsense.

At the time, I knew that Murdoch was a philosophy don. I had not read any of her philosophy, though. The other week I found and bought a copy of The Sovereignty of the Good. It is a book of about 100 pages, the first forty-some of which I had to read three times. I thought her arguments in general plausible, though I have the disadvantage of not wholly knowing the case she argued against: she mentions Stuart Hampshire, though the books of his she mentions are some years early than the ones I have read.

 The themes I picked out included: the difficulty of goodness; freedom as the matter of many small acts of attention, rather than as an arbitrary and unmotivated act in an otherwise determined world; art as a paradigm for attention to the world, not least because there is so much more bad art than good; love as another paradigm.