104 Materiality and the Modern Cosmopolitan Novel
and modified by their culture—are said to have character. Those
whose desires and impulses are not their own, have no character.”^51
Such a conceit presents very visible parallels with the description of
Lurie’s belief that one should “follow [one’s] temperament” (p. 2).
“It is not a philosophy,” he explains, “[... ] It is a rule, like the Rule
of St Benedict” (p. 2). Lurie’s liberalism also informs his broader
outlook on humanity and culture, which can be observed in the
Romantic poetry he takes pains to impart to his students. When dis-
cussing Byron’s Lara , he places special emphasis on the metaphysical
and ethical ramifications of the Lucifer character in the poem, who
“doesn’t act on principle but on impulse” (p. 33). Somewhat pecu-
liarly, Wordsworth, a far more moderate and less licentious writer,
also appears to be an influence. Indeed, the question of how Lurie
synthesizes their contrasting influences is an interesting one, par-
ticularly given that his daughter, Lucy, shares a name with one of
Wordsworth’s poems.
This liberal streak in Lurie’s character is by no means painted
in exclusively positive terms. Indeed, his insistence on his right to
individualism does, after all, involve a questionable sexual encounter
with one of his students. This is one of the aspects of Lurie’s charac-
ter that creates the central moral tension in the novel. Whereas the
first sexual encounter with Melanie Isaacs was certainly predatory in
nature, it was not coercive, and reflected only the questionable judg-
ment of a libidinous older man who, in the eyes of his colleagues,
should have known better. The second encounter presents an entirely
different moral equation as it involves an apparent unwillingness on
the part of Melanie, at least during the initial stages of their meet-
ing, which Lurie simply ignores.
Perhaps what is most unsettling about this scene is the degree to
which Lurie recognizes this unwillingness but carries on regardless.
“Not rape,” he reasons with himself, “not quite that, but undesired
nevertheless, undesired to the core” (p. 25). Indeed, even before the
i nc id e nt w it h Me l a n ie , L u r ie d i s pl a y s a d i s t i nc t l a c k of c onc e r n tow a rd
women that borders on the predatory—as well as using prostitutes to
solve “the problem of sex,” he also has a one-night stand with a col-
league whom he later avoids. “Her name is Dawn,” he tells us (p. 9).
“The second time he takes her out they stop at his house and have