Tess Bryant: The Last Book I Loved, The Sea, The Sea
Iris Murdoch’s novel The Sea, The Sea has, despite my initial wariness about reading the journal of a lonely bitter man, worked its way into being the last book I loved.
This story of the arrogant and sexist Charles Arrowby starts out slowly, with long digressions about family and physical surroundings. But the charm of Murdoch’s prose lies exactly in those details: the specific stone Charles steps across as he walks toward the ocean; the way the lamp flickers as if a ghost were haunting the old house he lives in; the smell of the boiling onions that fills his lonely kitchen.

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