Who does John Bayley— that's Mr. Iris Murdoch to you— think he is? Leo-nard Woolf, one would guess, the talented-if-not-quite-brilliant husband of a brilliant-if-not-quite-self-sufficient writer; perhaps he even thinks of himself as a Browning, an equal partner in a dual enterprise of literary creation. Whatever his self- image, what Bayley comes across as is a writer who engages in precisely the same sorts of literary projects as his wife with about one-tenth of the skill. Feminism's advances aside, it's still not quite a respectable position to be a man and to be on the bottom, and perhaps the most revelatory... More >>>