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A Severed Head - Iris Murdoch Oh, Iris, what have you done to me? How will I ever be able to read one of your books again? If I stop here and now it's only because of you!

Remember my infatuation with Charles last summer? Of course you do, because every now and then I go back and compare male characters with him. Now, guess what? Not only I didn't like Martin (Charles' counterpart for this novel) but I didn't like any of the characters.
Stop for a minute and try to imagine how awful it is for the reader to look for someone to like (identify with is so out of the question) and find no one. You could have had me, you know I have a soft spot for classy, witty, art-loving, wine connoisseur Brits, I can even indulge a little infidelity and some twisted relationships, it's not that I'm living in a bell jar, but hey, this maze was too much for me.

The same 6 people bonding and breaking up between themselves, showing no remorse, but, my goodness, so much well-behaving and understanding towards each other's choices and wanting to divide their refined furniture equally so that no one is deprived of the luxury and comfort they're accustomed to. Rats! It feels like these people are devoid of the most basic human feelings ever. Or maybe it's just me. Maybe I am living in a bell jar, after all.

I suppose the humour is not intentional, but after a certain number of combining possibilities I found myself bursting into laughter, thinking "My goodness, Iris, this is worse than a soap opera!" :)