The Unicorn

The Unicorn

Iris Murdoch

Language: English

Pages: 272

ISBN: 014002476X

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

A brilliant mythical drama about well-meaning people trapped in a war of spiritual forces

Marian Taylor, who has come as a “companion” to a lovely woman in a remote castle, becomes aware that her employer is a prisoner, not only of her obsessions, but of an unforgiving husband.

Hannah, the Unicorn, seemingly an image of persecuted virtue, fascinates those who surround her, some of whom plan to rescue her from her dream of redemptive suffering. But is she an innocent victim, a guilty woman, a mad woman, or a witch? Is her spiritual life really some evil enchantment? If she is forcibly liberated will she die? The ordinary, sensible people survive, and are never sure whether they have understood.


McDougal Littell Literature: British Literature, Grade 12 (Student Edition)

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Mrs. Dalloway

A Christmas Carol

Treasure Island (Bantam Classic reissue)
















Gaze stood. She walked along a bit. Her heart was beating very hard. The black wall of the cliff rose sheer beside her, glistening a little and seeming to overhang. The sun beat directly upon it but its darkness hung like a shadow overhead. The beach too was black, with gritty sand at the base of the cliff, and black pebbles at the water’s edge. Marian had never been afraid of the sea. She did not know what was the matter with her now. The thought of entering the water gave her a frisson which

behind him. He fingered in his pocket the sharp crushed fragments of the shells which Alice had given him. He must have broken them nervously somewhere on the way along. He followed the healing familiar lines. Zeus, who leads men into the ways of understanding, has established the rule that we must learn by suffering. As sad care, with memories of pain, comes dropping upon the heart in sleep, so even against our will does wisdom come upon us. Chapter Ten ‘I’ve never seen so many hares around,’

Effingham, please.’ Alice, surly and firm, said, ‘He’s drunk. He’d better sleep it off. I’ll bring him back when he’s sober. Come on, Effie, lift your big feet.’ She began to propel him towards the door. ‘Effingham, please stay here, please –’ ‘I tell you I’ll bring him back.’ ‘It happens quite automatically,’ said Effingham to Scottow. Effingham was unsteadily descending the stairs, clinging on to Alice’s arm. The sunlight hurt his eyes. As he went out of the glass doors he heard a sound

Marian. But he had not touched Hannah. He moved about her as if compelled by an aura which both attracted and protected, and he looked at her through it as one might look at some weird but holy relic in a casket. Marian touched her, partly in the natural course of her tasks, but partly too through some compulsive fascination; and Hannah’s flesh felt inert and cold, as if from her too the spirit were being slowly withdrawn. Denis had shown considerable hesitation about whether he should go to the

the middle of the room. Then he slowly raised the candle above his head and looked away from her. She could not at first understand the ritual. She watched him breathless, still straining her ears. Then she heard a tiny sound in the room itself, and she followed Jamesie’s gaze. The handle of Hannah’s door was quietly turning. It turned, and then slipped back, and turned again. Hannah was trying to get out. Marian felt the hair rising on her head. There was something hideous and uncanny in the

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