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The Time of the Angels
Carel Fisher was once a bastion of faith, a shining example of Anglican goodness and Christian values. But time and circumstance have worn him down as surely as the bombs of the Blitz have broken apart the very walls around him.
His convictions have vanished and his belief in mankind has tarnished. Imprisoned within his own mind and the decaying walls of his ruined rectory, he has few companions left: his niece and his household staff, all of whom become collateral damage as Father Carel’s reality becomes a twisted mirror for his views on the human condition. As relationships and desires, resentments and retributions, begin to crowd the small church, secrets are revealed that will shatter the lives of all involved, no matter how good or innocent they are.
His convictions have vanished and his belief in mankind has tarnished. Imprisoned within his own mind and the decaying walls of his ruined rectory, he has few companions left: his niece and his household staff, all of whom become collateral damage as Father Carel’s reality becomes a twisted mirror for his views on the human condition. As relationships and desires, resentments and retributions, begin to crowd the small church, secrets are revealed that will shatter the lives of all involved, no matter how good or innocent they are.
256 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1966
About the author
Iris Murdoch
128 books2,792 followersDame Jean Iris Murdoch
Irish-born British writer, university lecturer and prolific and highly professional novelist, Iris Murdoch dealt with everyday ethical or moral issues, sometimes in the light of myths. As a writer, she was a perfectionist who did not allow editors to change her text. Murdoch produced 26 novels in 40 years, the last written while she was suffering from Alzheimer disease.
"She wanted, through her novels, to reach all possible readers, in different ways and by different means: by the excitement of her story, its pace and its comedy, through its ideas and its philosophical implications, through the numinous atmosphere of her own original and created world--the world she must have glimpsed as she considered and planned her first steps in the art of fiction." (John Bayley in Elegy for Iris, 1998)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iris_Mur...
Irish-born British writer, university lecturer and prolific and highly professional novelist, Iris Murdoch dealt with everyday ethical or moral issues, sometimes in the light of myths. As a writer, she was a perfectionist who did not allow editors to change her text. Murdoch produced 26 novels in 40 years, the last written while she was suffering from Alzheimer disease.
"She wanted, through her novels, to reach all possible readers, in different ways and by different means: by the excitement of her story, its pace and its comedy, through its ideas and its philosophical implications, through the numinous atmosphere of her own original and created world--the world she must have glimpsed as she considered and planned her first steps in the art of fiction." (John Bayley in Elegy for Iris, 1998)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iris_Mur...
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 149 reviews
April 24, 2021
If you are seeking something serene or comforting to read, steer clear of Iris Murdoch. She will take you into a philosophical quagmire and bring you, breathless from the struggle, out the other side. In The Time of the Angels, Carel Fisher is a priest who does not believe in the existence of God. He lives in a rectory that has no church, with his daughter and niece; a black woman, Pattie, who is his housekeeper and his sometime mistress; a Russian custodian, Eugene, who lives in the basement room with his adult son, Leo, a pathological liar. Only Pattie and Eugene are even remotely likeable, and even they are doomed by the godlessness around them.
The innocence which she had prized in Eugene before she knew him well shone round him in glory now. He was a man without shadows. He loved her, simply, truthfully, and offered her a life of innocence. He offered her to, and she had felt it, smelt it, this morning, happiness.
One of Iris Murdoch’s strengths is the sense of place she gives us. I could feel the deserted air of the rectory, surrounded by the ruins of the church not rebuilt from the bombings during the war; the oppressiveness of the fog that lingers and constantly obstructs the view of the river from the six people trapped inside this crumbling structure, preventing anyone from seeing any avenue of escape; and the closeness of the basement room with the ancient boiler, where Eugene is isolated with the icon he has saved from his past and his memories of another, somewhat better, world. Murdoch does this, so often, with few words, but vivid imagery.
The snow filled the air, not seeming any more like separate flakes, but like a huge fleecy white blanket which was being gently waved to and fro outside the window.
But, what buzzes at the heart of Murdoch’s writing, is her eternal debate about the nature of God and man, and whether morality exists if God does not.
”I don’t understand you. People may disagree about morals, but we can all use our reason--
“The disappearance of God does not simply leave a void into which human reason can move. The death of God has set the angels free. And they are terrible.”
I found myself thinking of Graham Greene. Like Greene, Murdoch spares us no quarter when it comes to religion, but she comes to it from such a different place than Greene’s Catholicism. She invites us to question ourselves, our God, and our nature. She wonders if there can be good if there is no God, and whether absenting God merely opens the doors and windows of the soul to the evil which is His opposite. If God is dead, must He not have once lived? If God never lived, then isn’t His death, like His existence, something we have done? Either way, who is to blame for the absence of good, only ourselves. This book is dense and heavy; its story is dark and reflective. I closed its pages wondering why anyone would want to shut God out when there is so much evil to be let in in His stead.
Another theme I find coursing its way through Murdoch’s work is the idea of individualism as an isolating factor. Can we ever know another human being? Throughout this novel, the characters misunderstand each other entirely. Often what one is thinking is the direct opposite of what another character believes about them. They mistake motives, actions, feelings. They misread one another, and they fail to see the truth, until confronted with it directly and cruelly. They stumble upon each other, as if they had been groping about in the dark and someone suddenly lit them a lamp. But the light is not the light of God, hope or love; only the harsh light of reality, and it carries revelation without understanding.
The innocence which she had prized in Eugene before she knew him well shone round him in glory now. He was a man without shadows. He loved her, simply, truthfully, and offered her a life of innocence. He offered her to, and she had felt it, smelt it, this morning, happiness.
One of Iris Murdoch’s strengths is the sense of place she gives us. I could feel the deserted air of the rectory, surrounded by the ruins of the church not rebuilt from the bombings during the war; the oppressiveness of the fog that lingers and constantly obstructs the view of the river from the six people trapped inside this crumbling structure, preventing anyone from seeing any avenue of escape; and the closeness of the basement room with the ancient boiler, where Eugene is isolated with the icon he has saved from his past and his memories of another, somewhat better, world. Murdoch does this, so often, with few words, but vivid imagery.
The snow filled the air, not seeming any more like separate flakes, but like a huge fleecy white blanket which was being gently waved to and fro outside the window.
But, what buzzes at the heart of Murdoch’s writing, is her eternal debate about the nature of God and man, and whether morality exists if God does not.
”I don’t understand you. People may disagree about morals, but we can all use our reason--
“The disappearance of God does not simply leave a void into which human reason can move. The death of God has set the angels free. And they are terrible.”
I found myself thinking of Graham Greene. Like Greene, Murdoch spares us no quarter when it comes to religion, but she comes to it from such a different place than Greene’s Catholicism. She invites us to question ourselves, our God, and our nature. She wonders if there can be good if there is no God, and whether absenting God merely opens the doors and windows of the soul to the evil which is His opposite. If God is dead, must He not have once lived? If God never lived, then isn’t His death, like His existence, something we have done? Either way, who is to blame for the absence of good, only ourselves. This book is dense and heavy; its story is dark and reflective. I closed its pages wondering why anyone would want to shut God out when there is so much evil to be let in in His stead.
Another theme I find coursing its way through Murdoch’s work is the idea of individualism as an isolating factor. Can we ever know another human being? Throughout this novel, the characters misunderstand each other entirely. Often what one is thinking is the direct opposite of what another character believes about them. They mistake motives, actions, feelings. They misread one another, and they fail to see the truth, until confronted with it directly and cruelly. They stumble upon each other, as if they had been groping about in the dark and someone suddenly lit them a lamp. But the light is not the light of God, hope or love; only the harsh light of reality, and it carries revelation without understanding.
June 5, 2022
The Time of the Angels is an impressive novel that has intellectual depth, rich characterization, and an engaging plot.
I read it feverishly over three days, intrigued by the mystery surrounding the reclusive behavior of an Anglican priest and the power he wields over his hapless family members. On another level, I was interested in the philosophical discussion over the concepts of goodness and morality in relation to questions surrounding the existence of God. Thankfully, the fascinating but not-easy-to-fathom ontological arguments did not detract from the story of the socially isolated Fisher family.
A scandal has compelled the church to re-deploy Carel Fisher to the Rectory of a non-existent church in London, where he can do no more harm. The Rectory is located in a remote area cut off from town folks, a perfect setting for a reclusive existence. The rumor is that Carel has stopped believing in God. For years he has refused to see anyone or entertain any visitor. He lives in his bedroom listening to Swan Lake. His younger brother Marcus thinks that Carel is eccentric, unbalanced, and controlling. Is Carel insane? Why does each family member both love and fear him, and hold him in awe?
There are eight characters in this story and each plays an important role in the narrative. There is not one single superfluous character. In the Rectory lived Carel’s 34-year-old daughter (Muriel), his 19-year-old sickly orphaned niece (Elizabeth), the housekeeper (Pattie), the porter (Eugene) and the latter’s 20-year-old son (Leo). Importunately seeking entry to the Rectory and an audience with Carel are: Marcus, a headmaster and philosopher; Norah, a retired school mistress and friend of Marcus who is convinced that Carel is mad; Anthea, a persistent member of the pastorate who gets turned away at the door every day. Each of these characters is distinctly fleshed out and interesting in their own right. As the story draws to a close, Anthea’s importunity made perfect sense.
Over tea sessions, Norah and Marcus discuss Carel’s strange behaviors with deepening alarm. To me, Norah is the voice of common sense and the sanest character. Eugene, the kindly porter with a big heart (the ‘white figure’), is a counterweight to Carel (the 'black figure'). Leo, a compulsive liar, has evil designs on the beautiful invalid Elizabeth. This propelled the plot forward.
A fog and unrelenting cold loom over the landscape. The fog is symbolic of the darkness and secrecy that defined life at the Rectory. It is emblematic of the darkness in the characters’ relationship with each other (e.g., Muriel and Carel) which prevented them from seeing each other properly. As the story unfolds, secrets are revealed that rupture family ties. Murdoch demonstrated superb mastery in staging the events that allow us to see Carel for who he really is. I appreciate how Murdoch let the reader fill in the blanks. Not everything is said but all is understood. Where the nature of the scandal is concerned, the writing is all on the wall!
Readers who enjoy a good philosophical debate will find the discussions between Carel and Marcus invigorating. Murdoch herself taught philosophy at St Anne’s College, Oxford. Marcus is writing a book titled, ‘Morality in a World without God.’ His intent is to de-mythologize morals. Can goodness exist apart from God? Are human beings capable of goodness? If there is no God who is good, wherein lies the essence of goodness? I like what Norah said to Marcus in one of their tea discussions: ‘Ordinary morality goes on and always will go on whatever the philosophers and theologians have to say.’ I cannot pretend to understand all the profound philosophical discussion, but it did not hinder my engagement with the story.
The Time of the Angels alludes to a Russian icon that belongs to Eugene. It is a painting of three angels, representing the Trinity, confabulating around a table. It is supposed to have miraculous powers. For Carel, his apostasy and denial of God has set free the angels, the principalities and powers of this world. In Carel’s words, “The disappearance of God does not simply leave a void into which human reason can move. The death of God has set the angels free. And they are terrible.” I believe this was borne out in Carel’s own tragic life.
The Time of the Angels is a brilliant philosophical novel that delivers some shocking punches. Five stunning stars.
I read it feverishly over three days, intrigued by the mystery surrounding the reclusive behavior of an Anglican priest and the power he wields over his hapless family members. On another level, I was interested in the philosophical discussion over the concepts of goodness and morality in relation to questions surrounding the existence of God. Thankfully, the fascinating but not-easy-to-fathom ontological arguments did not detract from the story of the socially isolated Fisher family.
A scandal has compelled the church to re-deploy Carel Fisher to the Rectory of a non-existent church in London, where he can do no more harm. The Rectory is located in a remote area cut off from town folks, a perfect setting for a reclusive existence. The rumor is that Carel has stopped believing in God. For years he has refused to see anyone or entertain any visitor. He lives in his bedroom listening to Swan Lake. His younger brother Marcus thinks that Carel is eccentric, unbalanced, and controlling. Is Carel insane? Why does each family member both love and fear him, and hold him in awe?
There are eight characters in this story and each plays an important role in the narrative. There is not one single superfluous character. In the Rectory lived Carel’s 34-year-old daughter (Muriel), his 19-year-old sickly orphaned niece (Elizabeth), the housekeeper (Pattie), the porter (Eugene) and the latter’s 20-year-old son (Leo). Importunately seeking entry to the Rectory and an audience with Carel are: Marcus, a headmaster and philosopher; Norah, a retired school mistress and friend of Marcus who is convinced that Carel is mad; Anthea, a persistent member of the pastorate who gets turned away at the door every day. Each of these characters is distinctly fleshed out and interesting in their own right. As the story draws to a close, Anthea’s importunity made perfect sense.
Over tea sessions, Norah and Marcus discuss Carel’s strange behaviors with deepening alarm. To me, Norah is the voice of common sense and the sanest character. Eugene, the kindly porter with a big heart (the ‘white figure’), is a counterweight to Carel (the 'black figure'). Leo, a compulsive liar, has evil designs on the beautiful invalid Elizabeth. This propelled the plot forward.
A fog and unrelenting cold loom over the landscape. The fog is symbolic of the darkness and secrecy that defined life at the Rectory. It is emblematic of the darkness in the characters’ relationship with each other (e.g., Muriel and Carel) which prevented them from seeing each other properly. As the story unfolds, secrets are revealed that rupture family ties. Murdoch demonstrated superb mastery in staging the events that allow us to see Carel for who he really is. I appreciate how Murdoch let the reader fill in the blanks. Not everything is said but all is understood. Where the nature of the scandal is concerned, the writing is all on the wall!
Readers who enjoy a good philosophical debate will find the discussions between Carel and Marcus invigorating. Murdoch herself taught philosophy at St Anne’s College, Oxford. Marcus is writing a book titled, ‘Morality in a World without God.’ His intent is to de-mythologize morals. Can goodness exist apart from God? Are human beings capable of goodness? If there is no God who is good, wherein lies the essence of goodness? I like what Norah said to Marcus in one of their tea discussions: ‘Ordinary morality goes on and always will go on whatever the philosophers and theologians have to say.’ I cannot pretend to understand all the profound philosophical discussion, but it did not hinder my engagement with the story.
The Time of the Angels alludes to a Russian icon that belongs to Eugene. It is a painting of three angels, representing the Trinity, confabulating around a table. It is supposed to have miraculous powers. For Carel, his apostasy and denial of God has set free the angels, the principalities and powers of this world. In Carel’s words, “The disappearance of God does not simply leave a void into which human reason can move. The death of God has set the angels free. And they are terrible.” I believe this was borne out in Carel’s own tragic life.
The Time of the Angels is a brilliant philosophical novel that delivers some shocking punches. Five stunning stars.
September 11, 2021
Another one of Murdoch's dark, contemplative reads where the characters are deeply flawed and loathsome yet their complexity is intriguing. Only this time she creates havoc with the usual mix of dysfunctional relationships, a small group of family and friends, educated, comfortably-off and self-obsessed males, a couple of manipulative characters, and waning moral rectitude. It leaves behind the casual moral insouciance of entitled folks who have too much time on their hands and ventures into murkier territories. This circle of friends is tied together by the enigmatic rector Carel Fisher, a formidable, shadowy, and vile figure who gradually takes shape as we see him through the eyes of his housekeeper Pattie, his daughter Muriel, and his brother Marcus. Carel makes only brief taciturn appearances but his tentacles are everywhere as he is almost webbed into the consciousness of the people around him. Along with the perpetual fog outside which serves as a metaphor for deception, impermeability, and suffocation, this weird omnipresence of Carel lends a gothic vibe to the story.
What I love about Murdoch's work is her exploration of the inner lives of her characters, creating candid portraits of unlikeable people, their heads reverberating with their own importance. And she is able to find humour in this tendency of sordid self-absorption and exaggerated analysis of the deficiencies observed in others. Her writing is reflective, pushing me to analyze my own motivations, confronting the hidden furrows of darkness in life's apparent placidity. Though I'm always left with the nagging feeling that I need a deeper reading to decipher her books which are tempting in their appeal but dense in their content.
The Time of Angels was written in the sixties and the depiction of Pattie, the mixed race housekeeper, may seem outdated in its representation of a person of colour. Murdoch has sensitively portrayed the mental state of an unloved, isolated, confused orphan who finds her anchor in the evil and manipulative rector. Perhaps she is the only character, apart from Eugene (the Russian custodian), who are able to elicit some sympathy from the reader's heart. Eugene is the antithesis of Carel, an oasis of light and comfort in the gloom of the rectory but his innate goodness is also streaked with cynicism.
The overarching theme is the relationship of morality with theology and the independent existence of the former without religion. The characters have lost their faith in religion or have a dubious attitude toward it being the guiding light of their lives. Carel Fisher is trying to justify his depravity by arguing that the death of God has set His terrible angels free to wreak havoc. Marcus Fisher is engrossed in writing a "philosophical treatise upon morality in a secular age" but his efforts are derailed by his personal experiences. The other characters have insulated themselves with what Marcus labels as a "sophisticated immoralism" and cynically declare that goodness for its sake is implausible and do-gooders are gratifying a sense of power, and it is a kind of snobbery.
Well, these questions are as pertinent (and baffling) in 2021 as they were in the 1960s. Have we as a society progressed to an extent that we can stay in the boundaries of morality without religion to keep us in check? One of the purposes of religion as an institution is to bring a semblance of order to society; and religion as an ideology is a path to spirituality, a way to connect with our inner selves. Religion is personal to us and to an extent even personalized for us -- we look for in the absolute power a reflection of our own personality, moulding God as per our worldview, assigning genders and faces to the unknown. As we evolve as humans and as a society, do we need the foundation of religion and is religion keeping pace with this progression?
These conundrums of faith and morality are discussed in philosophical conversations between the characters and sometimes sound too heavy and textbookish. I felt these chats and dilemmas were a bit far-fetched and if people ever had such philosphical tête-à-têtes at tea-time. Which brings me to a luscious and surprising take away from this book, Iris Murdoch's quotes on baked delights. I believe I have put on some weight after salivating over these passages. Brace yourself!
What I love about Murdoch's work is her exploration of the inner lives of her characters, creating candid portraits of unlikeable people, their heads reverberating with their own importance. And she is able to find humour in this tendency of sordid self-absorption and exaggerated analysis of the deficiencies observed in others. Her writing is reflective, pushing me to analyze my own motivations, confronting the hidden furrows of darkness in life's apparent placidity. Though I'm always left with the nagging feeling that I need a deeper reading to decipher her books which are tempting in their appeal but dense in their content.
The Time of Angels was written in the sixties and the depiction of Pattie, the mixed race housekeeper, may seem outdated in its representation of a person of colour. Murdoch has sensitively portrayed the mental state of an unloved, isolated, confused orphan who finds her anchor in the evil and manipulative rector. Perhaps she is the only character, apart from Eugene (the Russian custodian), who are able to elicit some sympathy from the reader's heart. Eugene is the antithesis of Carel, an oasis of light and comfort in the gloom of the rectory but his innate goodness is also streaked with cynicism.
The overarching theme is the relationship of morality with theology and the independent existence of the former without religion. The characters have lost their faith in religion or have a dubious attitude toward it being the guiding light of their lives. Carel Fisher is trying to justify his depravity by arguing that the death of God has set His terrible angels free to wreak havoc. Marcus Fisher is engrossed in writing a "philosophical treatise upon morality in a secular age" but his efforts are derailed by his personal experiences. The other characters have insulated themselves with what Marcus labels as a "sophisticated immoralism" and cynically declare that goodness for its sake is implausible and do-gooders are gratifying a sense of power, and it is a kind of snobbery.
All altruism feeds the fat ego. One must be good for "nothing", without sense or reward and that is why goodness is impossible for us human beings.
Well, these questions are as pertinent (and baffling) in 2021 as they were in the 1960s. Have we as a society progressed to an extent that we can stay in the boundaries of morality without religion to keep us in check? One of the purposes of religion as an institution is to bring a semblance of order to society; and religion as an ideology is a path to spirituality, a way to connect with our inner selves. Religion is personal to us and to an extent even personalized for us -- we look for in the absolute power a reflection of our own personality, moulding God as per our worldview, assigning genders and faces to the unknown. As we evolve as humans and as a society, do we need the foundation of religion and is religion keeping pace with this progression?
These conundrums of faith and morality are discussed in philosophical conversations between the characters and sometimes sound too heavy and textbookish. I felt these chats and dilemmas were a bit far-fetched and if people ever had such philosphical tête-à-têtes at tea-time. Which brings me to a luscious and surprising take away from this book, Iris Murdoch's quotes on baked delights. I believe I have put on some weight after salivating over these passages. Brace yourself!
Huge as a cheese, a segment cherry cake revealed its creamy interior, studded with juicy cherries, Marcus noted approvingly, all the way up to the top. Toasted scones fainted limply under their load of melting butter.
The treacle tart was brown and crisp on the top, golden and succulent and granular once the surface had yielded to the spoon. This Bishop covered his portion evenly with cream and delicately licked a finger. "One must not exaggerate," he said.
May 14, 2019
This is my 17th Murdoch novel, which puts her joint top of my most read authors list (which sadly is no longer visible here) alongside A.S. Byatt.
This one is probably one of her more distinctive ones, perhaps most akin to The Unicorn if only because of its creepy atmosphere and claustrophobic setting. There is also rather more overt discussion of philosophy than Murdoch normally permitted herself, and not all of it made sense to my untrained eye.
The plot centres on Carel Fisher, a priest whose rectory occupies part of a deserted bomb site, along with a tower, the only part of his church that is still standing. The other occupants are Muriel, his 24 year old daughter, Elizabeth, his younger disabled niece and ward, Pattie, his housekeeper and sometime mistress, a Russian exile caretaker Eugene and Eugene's untrustworthy and manipulative son Leo. Carel is reclusive and permits nobody to visit the house, and also appears mostly either in shadow or darkness. Midway through the book, in a conversation with his brother Marcus (who has found his way into the house), he reveals that not only has he lost his faith but he believes that God has died, leaving his angels at large to cause mischief in the world. Carel becomes increasingly sinister as the book progresses and only two of the characters (Pattie and Eugene) emerge blameless in the resolution. The omniscient narration switches focus between these characters and a couple of more peripheral figures frequently.
The book has conscious echoes of Dostoyevsky, particularly in its exploration of theological ideas through fiction, and as so often with Murdoch her philosophical ideas render the plot a little unbelievable. Her descriptions of the mixed race Pattie, though sympathetic, are very much of their time and may seem a little jarring to modern readers. For all of those minor reservations, I found this book a very enjoyable read, and eventually something of a page turner.
This one is probably one of her more distinctive ones, perhaps most akin to The Unicorn if only because of its creepy atmosphere and claustrophobic setting. There is also rather more overt discussion of philosophy than Murdoch normally permitted herself, and not all of it made sense to my untrained eye.
The plot centres on Carel Fisher, a priest whose rectory occupies part of a deserted bomb site, along with a tower, the only part of his church that is still standing. The other occupants are Muriel, his 24 year old daughter, Elizabeth, his younger disabled niece and ward, Pattie, his housekeeper and sometime mistress, a Russian exile caretaker Eugene and Eugene's untrustworthy and manipulative son Leo. Carel is reclusive and permits nobody to visit the house, and also appears mostly either in shadow or darkness. Midway through the book, in a conversation with his brother Marcus (who has found his way into the house), he reveals that not only has he lost his faith but he believes that God has died, leaving his angels at large to cause mischief in the world. Carel becomes increasingly sinister as the book progresses and only two of the characters (Pattie and Eugene) emerge blameless in the resolution. The omniscient narration switches focus between these characters and a couple of more peripheral figures frequently.
The book has conscious echoes of Dostoyevsky, particularly in its exploration of theological ideas through fiction, and as so often with Murdoch her philosophical ideas render the plot a little unbelievable. Her descriptions of the mixed race Pattie, though sympathetic, are very much of their time and may seem a little jarring to modern readers. For all of those minor reservations, I found this book a very enjoyable read, and eventually something of a page turner.
July 4, 2017
Too many characters in this: "not her best" rigmarole which--incestuous & lesbian as it may be--boils down to a very expected end. The excessive light versus dark, fog versus clarity thing promises-- ghosts? killers?--but surprises only in how unspecial for Iris Murdoch "Time of the Angels" is.
March 19, 2021
Oldukça üzücü bir hikaye .İnançların ve ahlakın sorgulandığı bir aile trajedisi yazar yine bizi zorluyor sorularla.Çok şey yazılabilir ama okunulması gerekir yazılan her şey yetersiz kalabilir.
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February 12, 2022"Não há nada que faça as pessoas sentirem-se mais livres e felizes do que ver outras pessoas fechadas e a sofrer!"
57
Este está a ser um começo de ano algo suspeito no que diz respeito a leituras... É verdade que o leitor faz o livro, é verdade que a minha disponibilidade não é aquela que deveria ser, mas isso não justifica estes embates em literatura maçuda e difícil de digerir. Para mais, de autores que têm tudo para proporcionar uma leitura maravilhosa!
Mas comecemos.
Não sei se é costume da Murdoch, mas há algo nesta sua abordagem em O Tempo Dos Anjos que profundamente me transtorna e desanima : o contorno maquinal, a assepsia das paixões, dos frenesis sexuais dos personagens que ela engaiola e submete ao fascínio de uma figura de poder corruptora. É tudo tão negro neste livro que, em vez de me deixar chocada, fascinada, intrigada, tudo o que conseguiu foi fazer-me alienar da história e pensar cá para mim: tanto faz!
O enredo aqui serve uma espécie de propósito secundário que atribui uma certa normalidade a vidas que, não fora a interferência de personagens vindos das suas periferias, nos teria parecido demasiado óbvia logo de princípio.
Assim, Murdoch contrapõe às suas personagens principais - um reitor, sua filha e sobrinha, e respetiva criada; o seu vizinho e o filho deste - uma dúzia de almas beatas e bem intencionadas que, avisadas pelo instinto de que o padre não é boa rês muito se esforçam por irromper reitoria adentro oferecendo salvação.
De forma muito básica, o padre não acredita em deus, mas parece encarar-se como um ele próprio. Um deus às margens da lei divina e dos homens.
Não posso, desde logo, deixar de rir das sinopses que falam de um "reitor excêntrico", claramente escritas por quem não leu o livro de fio a pavio e não o viu o dito padre, rapidamente transformado numa espécie de líder de culto, entrar na cama da filha... Mas adiante. A coisa não só é assim arrepiante como fica pior (mas eu não conto).
Isto, contudo, não é nada daquilo sobre que versa a história. Há toda uma espécie de código que perpassa estas páginas: talvez ético, talvez moral, talvez material... Talvez demasiado encriptado para que a ele se chegue. Embora, claro, não deva faltar quem diga consegui-lo.
Não é fácil descortinar uma mensagem integral do seu conteúdo. Poucos personagens têm contornos distintos, poucos se nos apresentam palpáveis. A grande maioria deles gravita frente aos nossos olhos como sombras de possíveis existências, o que não facilita entrever as maquinações dos seus atos.
Nada é feito com paixão, mas antes com uma espécie de sentido de dever espiritual, como se cada um dos personagens, descolado da realidade, fosse bafejado por uma qualquer inspiração divina que os leva a atuar de forma cada vez mais perturbada o que, passado certo tempo, deixa o leitor completamente dormente. Demasiado soap opera macabra para o meu gosto, e sem o prometido e aliciante "programa" filosófico por que a autora é grandemente reconhecida.
Não era isto que esperava da obra (uma obra) de Iris Murdoch, confesso.
Esperava algo introspectivo, filosófico e de lento desenrolar, não esperava um mistério de iniciação em que acabasse por me sentir ainda mais desencorajada do que normalmente me sinto quando a fasquia vai alta e os resultados não cumprem com a expectativa.
"Envelhecer é saber que é a consciência, e não as circunstâncias, aquilo que leva a que uma pessoa seja feliz ou infeliz."
216
57
Este está a ser um começo de ano algo suspeito no que diz respeito a leituras... É verdade que o leitor faz o livro, é verdade que a minha disponibilidade não é aquela que deveria ser, mas isso não justifica estes embates em literatura maçuda e difícil de digerir. Para mais, de autores que têm tudo para proporcionar uma leitura maravilhosa!
Mas comecemos.
Não sei se é costume da Murdoch, mas há algo nesta sua abordagem em O Tempo Dos Anjos que profundamente me transtorna e desanima : o contorno maquinal, a assepsia das paixões, dos frenesis sexuais dos personagens que ela engaiola e submete ao fascínio de uma figura de poder corruptora. É tudo tão negro neste livro que, em vez de me deixar chocada, fascinada, intrigada, tudo o que conseguiu foi fazer-me alienar da história e pensar cá para mim: tanto faz!
O enredo aqui serve uma espécie de propósito secundário que atribui uma certa normalidade a vidas que, não fora a interferência de personagens vindos das suas periferias, nos teria parecido demasiado óbvia logo de princípio.
Assim, Murdoch contrapõe às suas personagens principais - um reitor, sua filha e sobrinha, e respetiva criada; o seu vizinho e o filho deste - uma dúzia de almas beatas e bem intencionadas que, avisadas pelo instinto de que o padre não é boa rês muito se esforçam por irromper reitoria adentro oferecendo salvação.
De forma muito básica, o padre não acredita em deus, mas parece encarar-se como um ele próprio. Um deus às margens da lei divina e dos homens.
Não posso, desde logo, deixar de rir das sinopses que falam de um "reitor excêntrico", claramente escritas por quem não leu o livro de fio a pavio e não o viu o dito padre, rapidamente transformado numa espécie de líder de culto, entrar na cama da filha... Mas adiante. A coisa não só é assim arrepiante como fica pior (mas eu não conto).
Isto, contudo, não é nada daquilo sobre que versa a história. Há toda uma espécie de código que perpassa estas páginas: talvez ético, talvez moral, talvez material... Talvez demasiado encriptado para que a ele se chegue. Embora, claro, não deva faltar quem diga consegui-lo.
Não é fácil descortinar uma mensagem integral do seu conteúdo. Poucos personagens têm contornos distintos, poucos se nos apresentam palpáveis. A grande maioria deles gravita frente aos nossos olhos como sombras de possíveis existências, o que não facilita entrever as maquinações dos seus atos.
Nada é feito com paixão, mas antes com uma espécie de sentido de dever espiritual, como se cada um dos personagens, descolado da realidade, fosse bafejado por uma qualquer inspiração divina que os leva a atuar de forma cada vez mais perturbada o que, passado certo tempo, deixa o leitor completamente dormente. Demasiado soap opera macabra para o meu gosto, e sem o prometido e aliciante "programa" filosófico por que a autora é grandemente reconhecida.
Não era isto que esperava da obra (uma obra) de Iris Murdoch, confesso.
Esperava algo introspectivo, filosófico e de lento desenrolar, não esperava um mistério de iniciação em que acabasse por me sentir ainda mais desencorajada do que normalmente me sinto quando a fasquia vai alta e os resultados não cumprem com a expectativa.
"Envelhecer é saber que é a consciência, e não as circunstâncias, aquilo que leva a que uma pessoa seja feliz ou infeliz."
216
May 30, 2008
Set in a vicarage - without a church. A reclusive priest of dubious faith and immoral habits, his 24-ish daughter, creepy "disabled" 19 year old niece, mixed race orphaned housekeeper, Polish handyman and the handyman's rebellious 20-ish son. Each chapter focuses on a different character/relationship. Incredibly vivid and chapter 9 has an excellent and prescient parody of politically correct Anglican waffle about the nature of faith and accepting people regardless etc. The literal and metaphorical use of heavy fog is rather cliched though.
February 24, 2015
this is my first Murdoch novel and I am honestly bowled over by her brilliance. the novel is compact, intense, reflective, philosophical and dark with flashes of happiness.
Though Carel, the reclusive, eccentric and manipulative godless priest is at the peripheries textually, he is in fact, the center of everything that is happening, the nucleus of all life and events.
My favorite characters would be the delinquent Leo and Muriel. Though Elizabeth too becomes a very savory character.
The book is held together by constant reflection, metaphysical self discourses and unexpected revelations.
this book is one of the finest books I have read in a while.
Though Carel, the reclusive, eccentric and manipulative godless priest is at the peripheries textually, he is in fact, the center of everything that is happening, the nucleus of all life and events.
My favorite characters would be the delinquent Leo and Muriel. Though Elizabeth too becomes a very savory character.
The book is held together by constant reflection, metaphysical self discourses and unexpected revelations.
this book is one of the finest books I have read in a while.
September 2, 2018
4.5 stars
I think this novel contains possibly the most distasteful character in the ten Murdoch novels I’ve now read. Centering on a decrepit rectory in London, the inhabitants consist of a Rector, Carel, his daughter, Muriel, his niece, Elizabeth and housekeeper Pattie as well as a handyman Russian refugee and his son, Eugene and Leo. To add to this small group, Carel’s brother Marcus, his friend Norah and a church visitor whose repeated rebuffment is one of the faintly amusing moments in the book.
From the beginning of the book, Carel appears as a creepy, shadowy figure, the first mention of him is his shadowy cassock brushing against a face and soon after Muriel refers to him as The Troll King. He constantly appears in darkness or semi shadow and his face is only mentioned once I believe. As a rector who has lost his faith he comes across as a devilish figure in the references to his sweeping black robes and his mental and physical abuse, tortured he may be but his disregard for morality makes him entirely unsympathetic. His presence alone is described as a physical weight oppressing those close to him, keeping them close by mental and emotional manipulation.
This darkness is compounded by Murdoch’s wonderful descriptions of the fog and cold that entombs the house and makes it as isolated as the manor in The Unicorn, despite being in London. Indeed at one point, Muriel is so cold that she imagines her room will be as a coffin and as so often in Murdoch’s novels, blue skies and sunshine only appear when something has been resolved.
This evocation of landscape is not the only recurring theme in the book, Carel is quite clearly The Enchanter figure that so often appears in her novels, there are affairs and long buried secrets, a woman confined to a room, self-imposed or otherwise or trapped by a relationship, plans devised – here attempts to gain entry to the house and the intrigue surrounding the Icon, mysterious women and practical women (Elizabeth and Norah, the latter of whom reminded me of Mildred in The Unoffical Rose) and so on.
The notion of seeing or not seeing is big in the novel, literally and metaphorically, peeking through cracks in walls, the mirror often mentioned in Elizabeth’s room, not being able to see what is right in front of you and how we see one another and ourselves. This notion of seeing the truth is extended to religion, a theme which often rears its head, along with morality, in the Iris Murdoch novels I’ve read. Although I always approach this material with trepidation, after all, Murdoch was a philosophy professor, apart from a few chapters of Marcus’s book and one diatribe by Carel, there isn’t too much to get lost in. Carel is such a gothic character that he is almost a caricature of religion gone wrong and it is in Pattie’s and Muriel’s struggles at various points that the idea of morality feels really explored.
Unusually in this book there are a couple of characters who are more appealing and sympathetic than many who feature in Murdoch’s novels. Pattie, who is the first character of color who appears in her work is compelling and I found her story and that of Eugene of greater interest than that of the immediate family, Pattie is in thrall to Carel and dreams of another life, while Eugene is described as the counterpoint to the rector, ‘the white figure against his black one’.
As to the other characters, Leo is simply irritating despite the fact that by the end of the novel I was amused and intrigued to find out what he would lie about next while Elizabeth is like a Princess in a castle, the “possession” of Muriel and Carel, her apathy making her appear a ghostlike creature. Marcus is the Murdochian ineffectual male who oscillates dramatically from one viewpoint to another while understanding nothing but who, apart from some initially suspect emotions towards Elizabeth, is essentially harmless. Finally, there is Norah the straight shooter whose warm and cozy house provides a stark contrast to the rectory and who seems to be one of the few who isn’t enchanted by Carel.
As always with Murdoch’s novels, there is so much more that can be said about and dissected from the book but altogether this was a really satisfying read, despite its creepier aspects, and one of my favorites of the ten I’ve read
Some favorite lines
‘She felt no sense of unity with the other coloured people, even when they were most evidently akin to herself. Whiteness seemed to join all the white people together in a cosy union, but blackness divided the black, each into the loneliness of his own special hue.’
‘Eugene did not suffer much from anxiety. He had spent too long sitting at the bottom of the world and hoping for nothing to suffer from any precarious play of tempting aspirations and glimpses.’
I think this novel contains possibly the most distasteful character in the ten Murdoch novels I’ve now read. Centering on a decrepit rectory in London, the inhabitants consist of a Rector, Carel, his daughter, Muriel, his niece, Elizabeth and housekeeper Pattie as well as a handyman Russian refugee and his son, Eugene and Leo. To add to this small group, Carel’s brother Marcus, his friend Norah and a church visitor whose repeated rebuffment is one of the faintly amusing moments in the book.
From the beginning of the book, Carel appears as a creepy, shadowy figure, the first mention of him is his shadowy cassock brushing against a face and soon after Muriel refers to him as The Troll King. He constantly appears in darkness or semi shadow and his face is only mentioned once I believe. As a rector who has lost his faith he comes across as a devilish figure in the references to his sweeping black robes and his mental and physical abuse, tortured he may be but his disregard for morality makes him entirely unsympathetic. His presence alone is described as a physical weight oppressing those close to him, keeping them close by mental and emotional manipulation.
This darkness is compounded by Murdoch’s wonderful descriptions of the fog and cold that entombs the house and makes it as isolated as the manor in The Unicorn, despite being in London. Indeed at one point, Muriel is so cold that she imagines her room will be as a coffin and as so often in Murdoch’s novels, blue skies and sunshine only appear when something has been resolved.
This evocation of landscape is not the only recurring theme in the book, Carel is quite clearly The Enchanter figure that so often appears in her novels, there are affairs and long buried secrets, a woman confined to a room, self-imposed or otherwise or trapped by a relationship, plans devised – here attempts to gain entry to the house and the intrigue surrounding the Icon, mysterious women and practical women (Elizabeth and Norah, the latter of whom reminded me of Mildred in The Unoffical Rose) and so on.
The notion of seeing or not seeing is big in the novel, literally and metaphorically, peeking through cracks in walls, the mirror often mentioned in Elizabeth’s room, not being able to see what is right in front of you and how we see one another and ourselves. This notion of seeing the truth is extended to religion, a theme which often rears its head, along with morality, in the Iris Murdoch novels I’ve read. Although I always approach this material with trepidation, after all, Murdoch was a philosophy professor, apart from a few chapters of Marcus’s book and one diatribe by Carel, there isn’t too much to get lost in. Carel is such a gothic character that he is almost a caricature of religion gone wrong and it is in Pattie’s and Muriel’s struggles at various points that the idea of morality feels really explored.
Unusually in this book there are a couple of characters who are more appealing and sympathetic than many who feature in Murdoch’s novels. Pattie, who is the first character of color who appears in her work is compelling and I found her story and that of Eugene of greater interest than that of the immediate family, Pattie is in thrall to Carel and dreams of another life, while Eugene is described as the counterpoint to the rector, ‘the white figure against his black one’.
As to the other characters, Leo is simply irritating despite the fact that by the end of the novel I was amused and intrigued to find out what he would lie about next while Elizabeth is like a Princess in a castle, the “possession” of Muriel and Carel, her apathy making her appear a ghostlike creature. Marcus is the Murdochian ineffectual male who oscillates dramatically from one viewpoint to another while understanding nothing but who, apart from some initially suspect emotions towards Elizabeth, is essentially harmless. Finally, there is Norah the straight shooter whose warm and cozy house provides a stark contrast to the rectory and who seems to be one of the few who isn’t enchanted by Carel.
As always with Murdoch’s novels, there is so much more that can be said about and dissected from the book but altogether this was a really satisfying read, despite its creepier aspects, and one of my favorites of the ten I’ve read
Some favorite lines
‘She felt no sense of unity with the other coloured people, even when they were most evidently akin to herself. Whiteness seemed to join all the white people together in a cosy union, but blackness divided the black, each into the loneliness of his own special hue.’
‘Eugene did not suffer much from anxiety. He had spent too long sitting at the bottom of the world and hoping for nothing to suffer from any precarious play of tempting aspirations and glimpses.’
July 29, 2022
Dark claustrophobic novel with philosophical overtones about an Anglican priest, Carel, his brother, daughter, niece, and household staff. It is set in a post WWII bombed-out rectory. Carel has lost his belief in the existence of God. He has isolated himself and told his staff not to allow anyone inside.
There are only a handful of characters. There is no overarching storyline. The characters represent the spectrum of good and evil, with most falling somewhere in between. Carel represents evil. His niece, Elizabeth, an innocent sheltered girl, represents goodness. His brother, Marcus, is an atheist who is writing a book about morality. Marcus wants to reconnect with Elizabeth but his brother will not allow it. Readers eventually find out why.
It has a gothic feel and may be read as an allegory. Iris Murdoch was obviously a deep thinker. It appears to me to be an examination of morality and how it changes without religion in the picture, which was becoming more prevalent after two world wars. I found it mentally engaging but emotionally distant.
There are only a handful of characters. There is no overarching storyline. The characters represent the spectrum of good and evil, with most falling somewhere in between. Carel represents evil. His niece, Elizabeth, an innocent sheltered girl, represents goodness. His brother, Marcus, is an atheist who is writing a book about morality. Marcus wants to reconnect with Elizabeth but his brother will not allow it. Readers eventually find out why.
It has a gothic feel and may be read as an allegory. Iris Murdoch was obviously a deep thinker. It appears to me to be an examination of morality and how it changes without religion in the picture, which was becoming more prevalent after two world wars. I found it mentally engaging but emotionally distant.
September 7, 2023
SO good. It’s so dark and twisted and purely Murdoch. God, she’s so good.
December 23, 2024
"People will endlessly conceal from themselves that good is only good if one is good for nothing. The whole history of philosophy, the whole of theology, is this act of concealment. The old delusion ends, but there will be others of a different kind, angelic delusions which we cannot now imagine. One must be good for nothing, without sense or reward, in the world of Jehovah and Leviathan, and that is why goodness is impossible for us human beings. It is not only impossible, it is not even imaginable, we cannot really name it, in our realm it is non-existent. The concept is empty."An Iris Murdoch fairy tale, and perhaps one of her darkest books. Did someone say incest? In abundance. God is dead and so is Goodness, the time of the angels has come. Heavy-handed by some tastes, but that's how I like my Murdoch.
There's a puzzle-building princess in her tower, and the reclusive rector of a bombed-out church, along with a Russian refugee and his want to be nihilistic son. Pattie, the family servant, is one of the few non-white characters in the Murdoch oeuvre, and Leo reminded me of Dougal Douglas in Muriel Spark's The Ballad of Peckham Rye.
Morals and Goodness are much philosophized, and the atmosphere—the fog, the snow, and the rumbling of subway trains—is as imposing as any of the characters. Events take a dark turn about two-thirds in, and from then one I was hooked. I love a Murdoch novel set in a claustrophobic house, but it all needs to add up to something in the end and for a while I was worried that this one wouldn't. But each new secret to be revealed turns out to be darker than the last.
It wouldn't be a Murdoch novel if every other character wasn't in love with the wrong person, and Pattie and Eugene's love story, a ray of light in the intense darkness, was a favorite plotline.
"To grow old is to know that not circumstances but consciousness make the happy and the sad. He was a sad man and he would never make the happiness of others or live in a house like ordinary people."
April 17, 2016
Kurgusu, karakterleri, diyalogları vs. her şeyiyle mükemmel bir kitaptı. Okurken yapılan bir takım atıfları anlamak için bilmediğim yerde araştırma da yaptım (dasein öümü, modern psikoloji...). Çok keyifli bir okuma oldu. Özellikle din,ahlak gibi konuları sorgulayan okuyucuları tatmin edecek şahane diyaloglar var. Ben bir sonraki Iris Murdoch kitabım için şimdiden heyecanlanıyorum :)
March 30, 2017
Have not enjoyed the last two Iris Murdoch books I've read nearly as much as the first 6 or 7 and I'm starting to get a little worried that I read all the good ones right off the bat and now the other 30 are gonna be bad? V concerned. Not sure how to proceed
November 2, 2020
3.5 stars
March 9, 2025
wow.i raced through it. Amazing amazing book, i’ll definitely read more of Murdoch.
the story follows a household, the patriarch of which is a priest named Carel. the story is complex and intricate ,and everything is beautifully written. Although the book follows perspectives of almost every character, we never hear from Carel.. his character is like the London fog that pervades the novel; thick and ominous, wraps around the entire story ..
in particular, Carel is a force of evil to the female characters. The house is made up of a Russian porter and his son, a black female servant Pattie and two girls Muriel and Elizabeth. We also never hear from Elizabeth’s character. Carel’s work as a priest is also indicative of the power structure within the house; he is almost like God in the way in which he looms over the house yet almost never directly interferes. the more is revealed about carel, the more his presence diminishes, culminating with his suicide ..
Religion and morality are major themes, along with alienation and relationships. can’t recommend this book enough !
the story follows a household, the patriarch of which is a priest named Carel. the story is complex and intricate ,and everything is beautifully written. Although the book follows perspectives of almost every character, we never hear from Carel.. his character is like the London fog that pervades the novel; thick and ominous, wraps around the entire story ..
in particular, Carel is a force of evil to the female characters. The house is made up of a Russian porter and his son, a black female servant Pattie and two girls Muriel and Elizabeth. We also never hear from Elizabeth’s character. Carel’s work as a priest is also indicative of the power structure within the house; he is almost like God in the way in which he looms over the house yet almost never directly interferes. the more is revealed about carel, the more his presence diminishes, culminating with his suicide ..
Religion and morality are major themes, along with alienation and relationships. can’t recommend this book enough !
August 11, 2026
رواية ستخنقك نفسياً وتسحبك إلى أعمق مناطق العتمة الإنسانية
ماذا يحدث للإنسان حين يُعزل تماماً عن العالم الخارجي في مكان ضبابي ومغلق؟ ماذا لو انسل خيط من الحقيقة وتداعى كل ما من شأنه لتدمير صلتك بأقرب من تحب ؟
كثير ما يقال أن البيوت أسرار فهناك سر حتما سينكشف في العائلة سيترك جرحا يوغل أثره في ذاكرتك وتضطر لحمله زمنا طويلا .
آيريس مردوخ في روايتها هذه منحت للشخصيات صوتا وروحا فكانت المتحدثة بأصواتهن وما يعتريهم من مشاعر وأفكار
رأيت كيف أسقطت الأقنعة الاجتماعية حين تغيب سلطة المجتمع والفكرة تدور في رأسي حول دينامكية العلاقات بين الآباء والأبناء وكيف يرى كل منهما الآخر وتساؤلات تمثلت في كيفية تتجسد الدوافع المكبوتة والجوانب المظلمة من النفس البشرية عن طريق سلوكيات الشخصيات وكأنها تدور في فلك من الهوس والعدمية .
الرواية لها بعد بالطبع فلسفي من خلال حوارات أجادت خلقها الكاتبة بين الشخصيات خاصة تلك التي دارت بين القسيس كاريل وأخيه ماركوس.
الرواية ثقيلة وفلسفية وتتركك بالكثير من الأسئلة حول هشاشة الأخلاق الإنسانية .
اقتباس :
"فتلك السعادة التي منحتها إياه كانت أمرًا خطيرًا. عندما يتقدم المرء في العمر يدرك أن الوعي، لا الظروف، هو المسبب للسعادة والتعاسة. لقد كان رجلًا تعيسًا، وما كان يستطيع قطُّ أن يستقي السعادة من "الآخرين أو يسكن منزلًا كالبشر العاديين.
ماذا يحدث للإنسان حين يُعزل تماماً عن العالم الخارجي في مكان ضبابي ومغلق؟ ماذا لو انسل خيط من الحقيقة وتداعى كل ما من شأنه لتدمير صلتك بأقرب من تحب ؟
كثير ما يقال أن البيوت أسرار فهناك سر حتما سينكشف في العائلة سيترك جرحا يوغل أثره في ذاكرتك وتضطر لحمله زمنا طويلا .
آيريس مردوخ في روايتها هذه منحت للشخصيات صوتا وروحا فكانت المتحدثة بأصواتهن وما يعتريهم من مشاعر وأفكار
رأيت كيف أسقطت الأقنعة الاجتماعية حين تغيب سلطة المجتمع والفكرة تدور في رأسي حول دينامكية العلاقات بين الآباء والأبناء وكيف يرى كل منهما الآخر وتساؤلات تمثلت في كيفية تتجسد الدوافع المكبوتة والجوانب المظلمة من النفس البشرية عن طريق سلوكيات الشخصيات وكأنها تدور في فلك من الهوس والعدمية .
الرواية لها بعد بالطبع فلسفي من خلال حوارات أجادت خلقها الكاتبة بين الشخصيات خاصة تلك التي دارت بين القسيس كاريل وأخيه ماركوس.
الرواية ثقيلة وفلسفية وتتركك بالكثير من الأسئلة حول هشاشة الأخلاق الإنسانية .
اقتباس :
"فتلك السعادة التي منحتها إياه كانت أمرًا خطيرًا. عندما يتقدم المرء في العمر يدرك أن الوعي، لا الظروف، هو المسبب للسعادة والتعاسة. لقد كان رجلًا تعيسًا، وما كان يستطيع قطُّ أن يستقي السعادة من "الآخرين أو يسكن منزلًا كالبشر العاديين.
January 28, 2022
What can I say about the diva of obtuse relationships? I once read "Iris Murdoch's novels are full of passion and disaster" and that sums up what I think except I would add that at times they are twisted and hard to fathom and unrelatable and occasionally downright depressing. However, my bookcover is rather genteel and lovely and who wants bland characters anyway.
July 12, 2015
What did I like about the book?
It is intense. The main characters are deeply living in their own worlds and struggle to understand others outside of their own needs. They intellectualise justifications for their own psychological drives.
What did I not like about the book?
It is very English. It feels of its time and place and culture. They did just all need to get out more. Most of the dilemmas were not real.
Highlights
The way Norah cuts through everything so well. We have long sections of intellectualising and debate about a position and Norah can sum it up in a few words. Example:
Page 192 "as far as I can gather from your garbled version of Carel's tirade, he stated not only that there was no god and human life was senseless, but also that the precarious reign of morality, itself of course an illusion, is now at an end and that henceforth human kind is to be the victims of irresponsible psychological forces which your brother picturesquely designates as Angels. "
Leo expertly weaving a web of lies and even the psychologist revealed at the end has been conned by him.
The sadness of eugene's life.
Summing up. The book did not challenge my perspective on God, but it did challenge my understanding of how we understand each other in our lives and how we act responsibly towards each other. Norah is the character I would most aspire to being. I did not think she was a cipher for the author though. Where is the author's voice in this book? How present is it and how is it expressed? Perhaps these are questions for the book club?
It is intense. The main characters are deeply living in their own worlds and struggle to understand others outside of their own needs. They intellectualise justifications for their own psychological drives.
What did I not like about the book?
It is very English. It feels of its time and place and culture. They did just all need to get out more. Most of the dilemmas were not real.
Highlights
The way Norah cuts through everything so well. We have long sections of intellectualising and debate about a position and Norah can sum it up in a few words. Example:
Page 192 "as far as I can gather from your garbled version of Carel's tirade, he stated not only that there was no god and human life was senseless, but also that the precarious reign of morality, itself of course an illusion, is now at an end and that henceforth human kind is to be the victims of irresponsible psychological forces which your brother picturesquely designates as Angels. "
Leo expertly weaving a web of lies and even the psychologist revealed at the end has been conned by him.
The sadness of eugene's life.
Summing up. The book did not challenge my perspective on God, but it did challenge my understanding of how we understand each other in our lives and how we act responsibly towards each other. Norah is the character I would most aspire to being. I did not think she was a cipher for the author though. Where is the author's voice in this book? How present is it and how is it expressed? Perhaps these are questions for the book club?
Read
April 24, 2024Dark and nihilistic in a far more profound way that I’m used to in film and literature, only comparable for me with Ingmar Bergman’s faith trilogy. As someone whose never felt ‘the death of God’ was a particularly big issue in my life I feel this book presents the idea in a new, profoundly disturbing way. If there is no God there is no Good and therefore only the presence of Evil, a force which can be hard to rationalise away. Here we see religion stripped of faith with only the horror of a corrupt institution left, certainly a prophetic vision of the future on Murdoch’s part.
Read
December 1, 2019Heidegger of the rectory vs. British middle-class moral sensibilities — guess who wins?
October 29, 2023
— “One can only love an angel. And that dreadful thing is not love. Those with whom the angels communicate are lost.”
June 21, 2026
Oh Carel Fisher, you creep, you’d absolutely love Camille Paglia.
April 22, 2011
I read the book on the plane. Rather disturbed by it. The plot as usual explores the theme of the existence of God, faith, human conditions, love. Yet the story diverges from Iris Murdoch’s usual. It weaves around Carel, a pastor who had lost his faith. Carel very rarely appeared in the book but his presence was much felt and talked about in every scene. Carel exerted some form of emotional and psychological hold on the characters. Muriel, Elizabeth, his daughters, Pattie, his housekeeper and Marcus, his brother, who held Carel in revere.
It’s puzzling and makes no sense to me as Carel comes across as loathsome, morally deficient, deceitful and tyrannical. It could be that he was a servant of God and the rest of the characters themselves suffered from some form of self loathing, weak core of identity. Muriel and Elizabeth had lived with him and had only known him as the only role model of life. Pattie had only been with one man and that was Carel. The pathos of the characters were not clearly defined and the intents of their acts as they regressed only conjure a sickened feeling of an alternative universe of no rhyme or reason. There were betrayals, lies, incest, suicides… If the book was to shake the reader’s belief of the usual formulae of Iris Murdoch, it certainly has done its job. The characters were fully indulged in giving in to their emotions and desires. The story development and the revelation revealed near the end of the book did not restore the equilibrium. It’s an Iris I do not care for.
It’s puzzling and makes no sense to me as Carel comes across as loathsome, morally deficient, deceitful and tyrannical. It could be that he was a servant of God and the rest of the characters themselves suffered from some form of self loathing, weak core of identity. Muriel and Elizabeth had lived with him and had only known him as the only role model of life. Pattie had only been with one man and that was Carel. The pathos of the characters were not clearly defined and the intents of their acts as they regressed only conjure a sickened feeling of an alternative universe of no rhyme or reason. There were betrayals, lies, incest, suicides… If the book was to shake the reader’s belief of the usual formulae of Iris Murdoch, it certainly has done its job. The characters were fully indulged in giving in to their emotions and desires. The story development and the revelation revealed near the end of the book did not restore the equilibrium. It’s an Iris I do not care for.
October 16, 2026
This is the 14th Iris Murdoch novel I’ve read and by far the worst so far. There is a quote on the back from The Times saying it’s “certainly her best” but, as I’ve pointed out before, the publisher has managed to find a quote for every one of her novels to claim each of them as her best. All such claims should be ignored.
The action takes place almost entirely in thick fog in London some time in the 1960s. London was never this foggy. Iris Murdoch loves symbols, however, so the fog is obviously more symbolic than real. One of the characters says, “It’s often foggy but it doesn’t usually last this long.” That’s about right. But the characters, particularly the Rector, Carel Fisher, and his brother Marcus, are scrambling about in a spiritual fog that smothers their souls.
In another piece of blatant symbolism, the church Carel Fisher is presiding over was destroyed in the war.
Murdoch can generally get away with being so heavy-handed with her symbols because she has such a light touch with everything else. Her descriptions of the physical details are strikingly vivid. The dialogue is often poetic and funny at the same time. The inner lives of the characters are frequently moving.
Even in this bad novel there are glimmers of her brilliance here and there. The following paragraph, which tells us so much about Pattie, a servant in the Rector’s new house, comes at the bottom of page 2 and already I feel like I know and love her.
Chapter Four, which develops our understanding of the Rector’s daughter, Muriel, and his young ward, Elizabeth, is a masterpiece. It’s only 11 pages but it’s perfectly constructed, like a prose poem. It is rich with evocative details, without being too explicit, and is worded beautifully.
Two chapters later, however, we get an encounter between Muriel and a boy called Leo, the Russian porter’s rebellious adolescent son, which struck me as not very plausible. Neither the dialogue nor the setting, which is a slimy wharf still enveloped in the thick fog that has been present for days, seemed real.
But that’s the thing about Iris Murdoch’s novels. They’re full of implausible encounters and artificial situations. She mixes insights of pure genius with preposterous flights of fancy. I love all her books, no matter her faults, but I can never recommend them.
Besides being the worst book of hers that I’ve read, it’s also the most explicitly philosophical. It’s usual for at least one of her characters to be engaged in literary and philosophical projects but it’s rare for her, as in this book, to quote a whole paragraph of Heidegger. Her intention appears to be to show how bad it is but the only commentary she provides is symbolic.
We have already seen what Pattie thinks of Heidegger’s magnum opus “Sein und Zeit.” Carel clearly takes this stuff seriously and Carel’s brother Marcus is writing a book called “Morality in a World Without God.” Muriel, rather than get a job, is writing a long philosophical poem in the metre of Paul Valéry’s “Le Cimetière Marin,” which is itself a philosophical meditation on life and death. Muriel is preoccupied with the question “Am I a good poet?” and reads her work to Elizabeth, whose reaction suggests that she is not.
Leo is not writing anything but he can quote Aristotle on morality. Leo is little more than a literary device, however, and every scene in which he appears is hollow. He is the embodiment of an individual who acts without morality. Nearly everything he says is a lie. At one point he says:
“I’ve always imagined that I could just give up morals, but it’s not so easy. I’m not as free as I think.”
This is the truest thing he says. He has been assigned a role by the philosopher-novelist and he is obliged to stick to it. Elizabeth, too, has been assigned a role. She is a sleeping princess shut up in a tower and cut off from all outside interference. You might think Leo the compulsive liar can awaken her and set them both free but her destiny is far darker. In a godless universe, evil can penetrate even this metaphorical fortress.
There are intellectual discussions about the mythology of religion and the role of the church but we can’t take any of them too seriously. There is even an excerpt from Marcus’s book, which sounds uncannily like one of Iris Murdoch’s lectures on the sovereignty of good.
On the symbolic plane, fog becomes darkness and philosophy becomes farce when Marcus falls into the Rectory’s coal-hole and appears before Pattie during a power cut with a blacker skin even than hers. Then there comes intense cold and swirling snow, which blankets everything in an ambivalent brightness like cold sugar.
This novel has a reputation for being bleak but I found it simply bad. Perhaps the clearest message a reader can take from it is that people who grapple with deep philosophical questions are not necessarily intelligent and can become completely unhinged.
Nevertheless it’s redeemed by some beautiful descriptive writing and is clearly the work of a brilliant mind at play. At times it’s very funny and, for all its flaws, I enjoyed reading it.
Even though I have limited my library to 30 novels, due to a temporary need for zen-like minimalism at home, I insist on keeping two or three unread Iris Murdoch novels lying around in case of emergency. Next on my list was An Accidental Man, and I have already bought a copy to fill the void created by The Time of the Angels.
The action takes place almost entirely in thick fog in London some time in the 1960s. London was never this foggy. Iris Murdoch loves symbols, however, so the fog is obviously more symbolic than real. One of the characters says, “It’s often foggy but it doesn’t usually last this long.” That’s about right. But the characters, particularly the Rector, Carel Fisher, and his brother Marcus, are scrambling about in a spiritual fog that smothers their souls.
In another piece of blatant symbolism, the church Carel Fisher is presiding over was destroyed in the war.
Murdoch can generally get away with being so heavy-handed with her symbols because she has such a light touch with everything else. Her descriptions of the physical details are strikingly vivid. The dialogue is often poetic and funny at the same time. The inner lives of the characters are frequently moving.
Even in this bad novel there are glimmers of her brilliance here and there. The following paragraph, which tells us so much about Pattie, a servant in the Rector’s new house, comes at the bottom of page 2 and already I feel like I know and love her.
A huge glass-fronted bookcase which has not yet found its place in the new house stretches diagonally across the hall where Pattie has been lighting the fire. The floor in front of it is covered with books upon which she stumbles now as she steps back. Falling over “Sein und Zeit”, she loses a slipper and kicks “Sein und Zeit” petulantly with a cold stockinged foot. Pattie’s shoes all become mysteriously too large for her very soon after she has bought them. A faint sound of music comes from above. Swan Lake. And for a second Pattie’s body feels all feathery and light. Pattie has seen ballet, watching from far above the white figures moving like animated flowers. But I am fat now, she thinks at the next instant, I am a fat girl now.
Chapter Four, which develops our understanding of the Rector’s daughter, Muriel, and his young ward, Elizabeth, is a masterpiece. It’s only 11 pages but it’s perfectly constructed, like a prose poem. It is rich with evocative details, without being too explicit, and is worded beautifully.
Two chapters later, however, we get an encounter between Muriel and a boy called Leo, the Russian porter’s rebellious adolescent son, which struck me as not very plausible. Neither the dialogue nor the setting, which is a slimy wharf still enveloped in the thick fog that has been present for days, seemed real.
But that’s the thing about Iris Murdoch’s novels. They’re full of implausible encounters and artificial situations. She mixes insights of pure genius with preposterous flights of fancy. I love all her books, no matter her faults, but I can never recommend them.
Besides being the worst book of hers that I’ve read, it’s also the most explicitly philosophical. It’s usual for at least one of her characters to be engaged in literary and philosophical projects but it’s rare for her, as in this book, to quote a whole paragraph of Heidegger. Her intention appears to be to show how bad it is but the only commentary she provides is symbolic.
We have already seen what Pattie thinks of Heidegger’s magnum opus “Sein und Zeit.” Carel clearly takes this stuff seriously and Carel’s brother Marcus is writing a book called “Morality in a World Without God.” Muriel, rather than get a job, is writing a long philosophical poem in the metre of Paul Valéry’s “Le Cimetière Marin,” which is itself a philosophical meditation on life and death. Muriel is preoccupied with the question “Am I a good poet?” and reads her work to Elizabeth, whose reaction suggests that she is not.
Leo is not writing anything but he can quote Aristotle on morality. Leo is little more than a literary device, however, and every scene in which he appears is hollow. He is the embodiment of an individual who acts without morality. Nearly everything he says is a lie. At one point he says:
“I’ve always imagined that I could just give up morals, but it’s not so easy. I’m not as free as I think.”
This is the truest thing he says. He has been assigned a role by the philosopher-novelist and he is obliged to stick to it. Elizabeth, too, has been assigned a role. She is a sleeping princess shut up in a tower and cut off from all outside interference. You might think Leo the compulsive liar can awaken her and set them both free but her destiny is far darker. In a godless universe, evil can penetrate even this metaphorical fortress.
There are intellectual discussions about the mythology of religion and the role of the church but we can’t take any of them too seriously. There is even an excerpt from Marcus’s book, which sounds uncannily like one of Iris Murdoch’s lectures on the sovereignty of good.
On the symbolic plane, fog becomes darkness and philosophy becomes farce when Marcus falls into the Rectory’s coal-hole and appears before Pattie during a power cut with a blacker skin even than hers. Then there comes intense cold and swirling snow, which blankets everything in an ambivalent brightness like cold sugar.
This novel has a reputation for being bleak but I found it simply bad. Perhaps the clearest message a reader can take from it is that people who grapple with deep philosophical questions are not necessarily intelligent and can become completely unhinged.
Nevertheless it’s redeemed by some beautiful descriptive writing and is clearly the work of a brilliant mind at play. At times it’s very funny and, for all its flaws, I enjoyed reading it.
Even though I have limited my library to 30 novels, due to a temporary need for zen-like minimalism at home, I insist on keeping two or three unread Iris Murdoch novels lying around in case of emergency. Next on my list was An Accidental Man, and I have already bought a copy to fill the void created by The Time of the Angels.
July 14, 2014
This, I swear, was heavily influenced by Dostoyevsky -- no bad thing in my book, although I spent the novel distracted by Dostoyevsky-spotting. Also my first Iris Murdoch. Not one of her majors I imagine.
July 24, 2022
Book Review
It's cold, the day are short, we're in London, we will meet an eccentric Anglican priest, his name's Carel Fisher, he lives in a bombed church, during the second world war, only the tower and the rectory aren't damaged, in this rectory lives Carel who has lost his faith in God with two daughters, Muriel twenty four years, and Elizabeth a nineteen years old, she is semi invalid.
This family is enlarged with Pattie O'Driscoll, the housekeeper, half - Jamaican, and a former mistress, Eugene Peshkov, A Russian émigré, he is a janitor, he has a son, Leo, a student at a technical college.
A fundamental rule of Pattie O'Driscoll is keep away any person you want to talk to, Even Marcus the brother and co-guardian of niece Elizabeth.
Marcus wants to understand why his brother has lost the faith in God.
Leo Peshkov is a student, the fees are paid by Marcus and Norah Shadox Brown, he behaves badly with Marcus and his father Eugene, will go so far as to steal an icon and then resell it.
Muriel looking through a crack in the wall will see her father, Carel sleeping with Elizabeth.
Eugene is a handsome man who will make Muriel and Pattie fall in love, Eugene will ask Pattie to marry him, Pattie will refuse the proposal since she feels bound with Carel.
Jealousy will bring havoc, everything will come to light, even the loving relationship between father and daughter, Pattie will reveal that Elizabeth is not the daughter of Carel, but she is his niece.
Muriel will discover that her father Carel has tried to committee suicide, after having read a letter, where she is told that Muriel has been told that her father is having an affair with Elizabeth.
Muriel won't do anything to save the life of his father, Pattie will go to Africa to work in a refugee camp, the rectory and the church tower will be demolished.
Philosophical Review
The main dilemma of this novel is to understand why a priest has lost his faith in God.
In my opinion Carel is always enveloped by the fog, this implies that the border between the good and evil is not clear , but it's confused or even hidden, and if we also include the death of God, humanity is unmanageable.
Using a metaphor I associate humanity to the semi destructed church and abandoned, since her shepherd no longer believes in God.
In this case humanity will take face of Leo Peshkov, a free spirit governed by his instincts, at some point he will say: "Yes, I suppose I've always imagined that I could just give up morals, but it's not so easy. I'm not as free as I think." Leo is telling us that even a free spirit like him can survive the need of God.
The humans are also incapable to build a own morality, the main enemy is our egoism
"All altruism feeds the fat ego one must be good for nothing without sense or reward and that is why goodness is impossible for us human beings."
At the end of the novel the church will be raised to the ground as a metaphor of our destiny when God will die.
Literary Criticism
The plot of this novel has been built on a particular personage, an anglican priest who has lost his faith in God.
He lives in a bombed church during the second world war only the rectory and the tower stand up.
Love and jealousy is the main actor of this novel, Eugene the porter. Two women will fall in love with him who, thanks to jealousy, will come to light clandestine and incestuous relationships that will lead to a suicide, in the end the rectory and the tower will be definitively destroyed.
The main character is Carel Fisher an Anglican priest who has lost his faith in God. In the rectory he lives with Muriel a girl of twenty four years old, she is writing a philosophical poem and Elizabeth nineteen years old a semi invalid recluse.
Patricia O' Driscoll, his mistress and housekeeper.
Carel has a brother Marcus Fisher, he is writing a philosophical treatise "Morality In a World " Marcus is also the co guardian of the niece Elizabeth.
Eugene Peshkov is the porter, he lives with his son Leo, they both hate each other to the point that Leo will steal an icon from his father and then resell it for disfigurement.
The theme of this novel is how society will be in a society, after the death of God and the relationship between God and morality.
The most enigmatic chapter is the one relating to the fog, the rectory and the tower are perennially shrouded in fog, giving a sense of oppression, blindness but also of isolation.
It's cold, the day are short, we're in London, we will meet an eccentric Anglican priest, his name's Carel Fisher, he lives in a bombed church, during the second world war, only the tower and the rectory aren't damaged, in this rectory lives Carel who has lost his faith in God with two daughters, Muriel twenty four years, and Elizabeth a nineteen years old, she is semi invalid.
This family is enlarged with Pattie O'Driscoll, the housekeeper, half - Jamaican, and a former mistress, Eugene Peshkov, A Russian émigré, he is a janitor, he has a son, Leo, a student at a technical college.
A fundamental rule of Pattie O'Driscoll is keep away any person you want to talk to, Even Marcus the brother and co-guardian of niece Elizabeth.
Marcus wants to understand why his brother has lost the faith in God.
Leo Peshkov is a student, the fees are paid by Marcus and Norah Shadox Brown, he behaves badly with Marcus and his father Eugene, will go so far as to steal an icon and then resell it.
Muriel looking through a crack in the wall will see her father, Carel sleeping with Elizabeth.
Eugene is a handsome man who will make Muriel and Pattie fall in love, Eugene will ask Pattie to marry him, Pattie will refuse the proposal since she feels bound with Carel.
Jealousy will bring havoc, everything will come to light, even the loving relationship between father and daughter, Pattie will reveal that Elizabeth is not the daughter of Carel, but she is his niece.
Muriel will discover that her father Carel has tried to committee suicide, after having read a letter, where she is told that Muriel has been told that her father is having an affair with Elizabeth.
Muriel won't do anything to save the life of his father, Pattie will go to Africa to work in a refugee camp, the rectory and the church tower will be demolished.
Philosophical Review
The main dilemma of this novel is to understand why a priest has lost his faith in God.
In my opinion Carel is always enveloped by the fog, this implies that the border between the good and evil is not clear , but it's confused or even hidden, and if we also include the death of God, humanity is unmanageable.
Using a metaphor I associate humanity to the semi destructed church and abandoned, since her shepherd no longer believes in God.
In this case humanity will take face of Leo Peshkov, a free spirit governed by his instincts, at some point he will say: "Yes, I suppose I've always imagined that I could just give up morals, but it's not so easy. I'm not as free as I think." Leo is telling us that even a free spirit like him can survive the need of God.
The humans are also incapable to build a own morality, the main enemy is our egoism
"All altruism feeds the fat ego one must be good for nothing without sense or reward and that is why goodness is impossible for us human beings."
At the end of the novel the church will be raised to the ground as a metaphor of our destiny when God will die.
Literary Criticism
The plot of this novel has been built on a particular personage, an anglican priest who has lost his faith in God.
He lives in a bombed church during the second world war only the rectory and the tower stand up.
Love and jealousy is the main actor of this novel, Eugene the porter. Two women will fall in love with him who, thanks to jealousy, will come to light clandestine and incestuous relationships that will lead to a suicide, in the end the rectory and the tower will be definitively destroyed.
The main character is Carel Fisher an Anglican priest who has lost his faith in God. In the rectory he lives with Muriel a girl of twenty four years old, she is writing a philosophical poem and Elizabeth nineteen years old a semi invalid recluse.
Patricia O' Driscoll, his mistress and housekeeper.
Carel has a brother Marcus Fisher, he is writing a philosophical treatise "Morality In a World " Marcus is also the co guardian of the niece Elizabeth.
Eugene Peshkov is the porter, he lives with his son Leo, they both hate each other to the point that Leo will steal an icon from his father and then resell it for disfigurement.
The theme of this novel is how society will be in a society, after the death of God and the relationship between God and morality.
The most enigmatic chapter is the one relating to the fog, the rectory and the tower are perennially shrouded in fog, giving a sense of oppression, blindness but also of isolation.
June 8, 2025
The Time of the Angels is a masterclass in character development, which for Murdoch is not merely required stage-setting. No, it is the very substance of the novel and serves as the basis for her exploration of human nature and interaction, about which she had clearly thought deeply.
We learn about each character’s physicality, temperament, flaws and virtues, but we often do so through the eyes of the other characters and through the characters’ own self-assessment, both of which are completely unreliable sources, as is clearly demonstrated through the book.
In fact, one might suggest that the novel is very much about our virtuosic ability to misread people, their natures and motives, and that very much includes misreading our own selves. I am reminded of this theme in both Graham Greene ("If I could just arrange for her happiness first, he thought, and in the confusing night he forgot for the while what experience had taught him—that no human being can really understand another, and no one can arrange another’s happiness." — The Heart of the Matter ) and Halldor Laxness ("Two human beings have such difficulty in understanding each other, there is nothing so tragical as two human beings." — Independent People ).
In addition to the nine named characters and the unnamed Bishop, each of whom are distinctively complex individuals, the London fog is also anthropomorphized as a minor eleventh character, complete with motive-driven actions and emotional temperaments.
“The fog, like a hushed lifted finger, imposed quietness.” (p.60)
“It had been another day of fog… even the fog smelt familiar and friendly.” (p.121)
This ever-present fog serves as a very apt metaphor for this entire story, which is certainly “tragical.” For as the character Marcus states near the book’s close:
"There’s a streak of ruthlessness in all of us.” (p.223)
We learn about each character’s physicality, temperament, flaws and virtues, but we often do so through the eyes of the other characters and through the characters’ own self-assessment, both of which are completely unreliable sources, as is clearly demonstrated through the book.
In fact, one might suggest that the novel is very much about our virtuosic ability to misread people, their natures and motives, and that very much includes misreading our own selves. I am reminded of this theme in both Graham Greene ("If I could just arrange for her happiness first, he thought, and in the confusing night he forgot for the while what experience had taught him—that no human being can really understand another, and no one can arrange another’s happiness." — The Heart of the Matter ) and Halldor Laxness ("Two human beings have such difficulty in understanding each other, there is nothing so tragical as two human beings." — Independent People ).
In addition to the nine named characters and the unnamed Bishop, each of whom are distinctively complex individuals, the London fog is also anthropomorphized as a minor eleventh character, complete with motive-driven actions and emotional temperaments.
“The fog, like a hushed lifted finger, imposed quietness.” (p.60)
“It had been another day of fog… even the fog smelt familiar and friendly.” (p.121)
This ever-present fog serves as a very apt metaphor for this entire story, which is certainly “tragical.” For as the character Marcus states near the book’s close:
"There’s a streak of ruthlessness in all of us.” (p.223)
December 13, 2023
Sometimes more of a 3/5, sometimes more than a 4. Some parts seemed a bit too long, or a little "irrelevant", especially when it came to passages about the "moral" and the "theological". I would like to lend this book to some friends who studied philosophy, actually, to know what they think about it: were those parts less "relevant", or is it just that I'm passed all that mess?
Overall, the characters were weak (except Shadox-Brown and Eugene), and all sort of pissed me off; that's not a bad thing though. It was full of ambiance; well executed. Mostly I clicked into the book when I started seeing the characters as individual metaphors for the philosophical themes directly mentioned in the novel, and archetypes of people voluntarily or involuntarily affected by a "dying christianity", which we could also call "old moral order". Somewhere this novel is a microcosm of the dying old moral order. When the novel came into my view under this perspective, I started enjoying it enormously.
More than that? Beautifully written, wonderful passages, and most of the novel was quite lively. Its one of those books which one would so wish to discuss with others; it would be perfect for a book club.
Overall, the characters were weak (except Shadox-Brown and Eugene), and all sort of pissed me off; that's not a bad thing though. It was full of ambiance; well executed. Mostly I clicked into the book when I started seeing the characters as individual metaphors for the philosophical themes directly mentioned in the novel, and archetypes of people voluntarily or involuntarily affected by a "dying christianity", which we could also call "old moral order". Somewhere this novel is a microcosm of the dying old moral order. When the novel came into my view under this perspective, I started enjoying it enormously.
More than that? Beautifully written, wonderful passages, and most of the novel was quite lively. Its one of those books which one would so wish to discuss with others; it would be perfect for a book club.
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