Time of the Angels by Iris Murdoch

I have just concluded reading Iris Murdoch's The Time of the Angels, a wonderful novel about spiritual grappling and metaphysical contemplation. I was disappointed at the end of the novel to lose a sense regarding the identities, the realities of being of Muriel and Elizabeth. Perhaps in a sequel...? Not certain. Rector Carel Fisher was an extraordinarily troubled person for reasons never clarified, unfortunately. Sometimes one meets a character without understanding altogether the psychological dynamics influencing him...or her. His brother, Marcus, is in many respects the more interesting character, one struggling to know the meaning of his life, to understand, perhaps, that which motivates him to write a philosophical work on what constitutes the good of life, the love of life...perhaps. What does a writer seek in the authoring of a book, that is to contribute to the advancement of humaneness?
In Murdoch's short novel (230 pages), principally she tells a story, one limited to a small world of characters, almost all of them living in two residences. How sad their existences in the rectory: the rector, his mistress/servant, his daughter, his niece who actually is his daughter with whom he has an incestuous relation, and a Russian and his son. What a diverse cast of dysfunctional actors!
Missionaries to this familial group are three people who seek to bring redemption to the rector and his entourage. Redemption does not occur, at least not for the rector. Regarding most of the others we must speculate. Are we hopeful? Yes, somewhat, in the same way that we always reserve some amount of hope in the midst of the human condition.
To my list of women authors with whom I find myself much in love are Iris Murdoch and Rebeccah Goldstein, both philosophical writers. O, thank you, Iris and Rebeccah!

Winebibbing

I pour my burgundy from the Vella box onto two rocks in the stemware glass (fabrique en France, comme mon Waterman) not to chill the wine but to dilute it, water it with ice cubes.
One normally drinks burgundy as room temperature (indeed according to the norm), a standard about which I learned many years at a Magic Pan Restaurant off north Michigan Avenue in Chicago. Nevertheless chilled burgundy is flavorful, refreshing, and I am hopeful that it extends the duration of the mild buzz. Recipe: two ice cubes, six ounces of burgunday, one crystal wine glass. God blesses us.
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Identifying Terrorists

The time has come, rather late we regret, to cease identifying terrorists by their alleged religious affiliations. Terrorists should not be designated "Islamic extremists" or "Christian nutcases" or "Buddhist militants." Some terrorists claim religious affiliation, but we should not dignify their claims, and mass media should not serve their propaganda. Ku Klux Klan claimed to be a Christian organization with all its insidious trappings, but actually it was (and continues to be) an ignorant, bigoted, terrorist group. Certain so-called "skinheads" claim to be Christian, as do certain racist militias, but they actually are antichrist and anti-God in their hate-filled hearts.
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Wilde, Spinoza

I fell in love with the philosopher Spinoza today, and with Oscar Wilde as well. The latter was a gay guy, flaming, wrote funny plays, and he was a great writer. Spinoza may not have had any time for sex, gay or otherwise. His was a gloriously beautiful mind, and his ethics was superlative in its conception. I recommend both of these writers' work for joy and edification. I am glad for the lives of both these men, despite whatever flaws some have attributed to one or the other.