I was in a dilemma between awarding three and four stars. Murdoch has the ability to write in a captivating manner.

However, I felt that this book had its drawbacks. There were an excessive number of characters, and it took me a while to distinguish them as the story progressed.

Moreover, the combination of a crime novel with an ordinary novel didn't quite work for me. In an ordinary novel, especially after I stopped reading children's books, I can't recall any book where everything turns out well for all the characters. This makes the情节seem implausible.

If the author intended it as a joke, then perhaps that could have been a redeeming factor. Additionally, the two gloomy men who lived a somewhat secluded life due to experiences in the war seemed a bit overdone.

Overall, while there were aspects of the book that were engaging, these issues prevented me from giving it a higher rating.

Once again, I asked my class to “consider a post-colonial reading of the text.” This instruction aims to encourage students to view the text from a perspective that takes into account the historical and cultural context of colonialism and its aftermath. By doing so, students can gain a deeper understanding of the text and the ways in which it may reflect or challenge the power dynamics and inequalities that have been shaped by colonial history.

A post-colonial reading can also help students to recognize the diverse voices and experiences that may have been marginalized or silenced in the text. It allows them to question the dominant narrative and to explore alternative interpretations that may offer a more nuanced and inclusive understanding of the text and its significance.

In this way, asking students to consider a post-colonial reading of the text is not only an opportunity for them to engage with a particular critical approach but also a way to foster a more critical and reflective attitude towards literature and the world around them.

I have a penchant for novels that juxtapose the classical spiritual realm and its mischievous characters with the modern world, just as this one does.

Consequently, I was certain I would enjoy The Nice and the Good. I'm inclined to label it a novel of manners. It belongs to that category of British novels where a plethora of characters assemble at a commodious country house by the sea, although there are also sections set in London.

However, being an Iris Murdoch novel, there's far more happening than just social comedy and shenanigans. For example, there's a suspicious death, and the specter of the Holocaust looms over the past.

As in her other novels, she grapples with the concept of good and how humans achieve that quality, here contrasted with the merely nice. The template Murdoch employs for her novel is the Agnolo Bronzini painting "An Allegory with Venus and Cupid," which portrays time and truth, jealousy, pleasure, and deceit, all of which feature prominently in the novel.

No doubt due to my fondness for a modern setting that seamlessly merges with the classical and, undoubtedly, because Iris Murdoch, as always, has crafted a novel of such remarkable breadth and intelligence, I consider this to be the finest novel I've read thus far this year.

The Nice and the Good is an enthralling novel that delves deep into the complex themes of love and human nature.

The story predominantly revolves around John Ducane and his various relationships. However, it further extends to explore the intricate web of connections among the diverse group of people residing at Trescombe House in Dorset. Kate and Octavian, the owners of Trescombe House, have over the years accumulated a collection of waifs and strays, all of whom now live together under one roof.

As the narrative unfolds, the characters engage in a series of relationships with one another. Some find themselves falling deeply in love, while others experience the heartbreak of falling out. The novel presents a rich tapestry of different kinds of relationships and loves. There are numerous unrequited love affairs, passionate entanglements, and even unconventional forms of love.

Adding an element of mystery and intrigue, the secondary plot involves a senior official at Whitehall who seemingly commits suicide in his office. At first glance, this combination of love and murder may seem strange, but in the hands of the author, it works remarkably well. As the novel progresses, it becomes evident how these two seemingly disparate themes are interconnected.

This novel is truly a masterclass in character interaction. I was completely captivated from start to finish, especially enjoying the mystery element that was seamlessly woven into the story. It kept me on the edge of my seat, eagerly turning the pages to uncover the truth.

Overall, The Nice and the Good is a thought-provoking and engaging novel that offers a profound exploration of love, human nature, and the mysteries that lie within us all.

While reading this book, I had the opportunity to Google “Irish Murdoch Christian” as certain parts of the text piqued my curiosity. (According to Wikipedia, she referred to herself as a “Christian Buddhist,” so you don't have to repeat my diligent scholarly efforts in this regard.) A review of her novel Nuns and Soldiers came up, with the snarky title “A Romance for Highbrows.” Since the author of the review, George Stade, writes that Nuns and Soldiers is “the epitome and sum” of her other works, I feel it is reasonable to defend against his charges here. Stade takes issue with what he sees as a watered-down, equivocal kind of pseudo-Christianity. He claims that secular love is the efficient cause of what goes on in her novels. On the other hand, Iris Murdoch is a neo-Christian apologist. Her fictions, he argues, present a Christianity that has become more interesting since God took a powder, substituting a diffuse religiosity for a formulated religion and approving faith according to the rigor of disbelief.

A diffuse and unclear philosophy in a work of nonfiction can be vexing, but it seems like an odd charge to make against a novel. Novels are not necessarily multivalent, but one of their chief virtues is how they can give emotional content to experiences that may be inaccessible to the reader due to her own philosophical situation. One need not have taken Communion to understand how profaning it would break Major Scobie’s heart in Graham Greene’s The Heart of the Matter. Fiction grants us access to the emotional life of people whose entire belief structure is different from our own. To ask that a novel present a precise model of the proper role of romantic and divine loves, or that its characters be free of emotional and spiritual muddle, is to ask for an inaccurate portrait of experience.

In The Nice and the Good, which is quite suspenseful at times but is ultimately a comedy, it's hard not to question Murdoch’s beliefs (hence my Googling) because her notion of the divine sometimes seems patently Christian. John Ducane is a great character who grapples with the warring demands of kindness and correctness, and his queasiness at his own weakness makes him both likable and admirable. The book opens with the suicide of his colleague Radeechy, which he is tasked to investigate. His puzzling romantic but asexual relationship with a married woman is initially where he locates purity in his life. The creeping moral anxiety that attends his investigation of Radeechy’s death makes much in his life feel tainted, and his efforts to free himself from the taint are part of what makes the book so enjoyable to read. (He also stars in one of the more suspenseful scenes I've read in a long time, but I don't want to oversell it as it comes near the end and this is not a book worth reading for its intrigue, which is mildly disappointing overall.)

The portrait of Kate (Ducane’s married woman) is vivid; there is a botched breakup scene at the beginning of the novel that is heart-wrenching and one that most readers can probably identify with having been on both sides. There are also lots of flowers, city mugginess, and charming animals. All of this has an impressionistic force that must fuel Stade’s disdain, but I think it gives a clear picture of the kind of laborious and jumbled philosophizing that may be the only option in a life filled with cars, whiskey, flesh, offices, pebbles, and cats.

The opening of "The Nice and the Good" is truly a remarkable surprise. It commences like a golden age crime novel, complete with a death and numerous exclamatory phrases. However, the incident is initially regarded as a bit of a bore, as it disrupts weekend plans. As the novel unfolds, the investigation into the death becomes increasingly complex and dark, causing existential angst for John Ducane, the unofficial investigator. He grapples with the nature of being nice and good, longing for a simple, good life while simultaneously exploring his capacity for brutality. He desires soft and happy women but finds himself entangled with those he compares to snakes, demons, and witches on multiple occasions. It's not just women he deems demonic; Biranne, Eric, and Pierce all have their demonic moments. John is the one everyone turns to for help and advice, the one everyone believes is good and the potential savior who has placed himself on a pedestal. Yet, the novel follows his struggle with this perception.

Alongside the investigatory aspect of the book is a typical Iris Murdoch large country home. This time, it is inhabited by a "harem" of women and their children, a gay uncle, occasional visitors, and, in a cottage on the grounds, a refugee from Dachau concentration camp. The descriptions of forgotten graveyards and the ocean are beautiful, but once again, all the characters have their quirks and secrets. There are the precociously intelligent twins, the brooding Paula, the lovelorn Pierce, the restless Mary, and the secretive Theo. There are hints of incestuous lusts and an inability for anyone to discuss their past. We witness divorce, death, and affairs, yet the country is often contrasted with the "nasty," "crazy" city.

Standing in contrast to everyone else is Kate, the "lady of the manor." She takes on the role that appears in all of Iris Murdoch's novels, that of the enchanter, although a relatively benign one. She and Octavian have an absurdly happy life, using those around them as needed and indulging whatever desires arise. It's not just Kate who has an impact on people. Willy, the Jewish refugee, is treated almost as an icon. People are constantly touching him or giving him offerings, "rather in the spirit of those who place saucers of milk outside the lair of a sacred snake." He seems to have his own bewitching qualities that draw people in, but ultimately, he has the same basic desires as everyone else.

This novel does seem to be a product of the sixties, with its miniskirts, frosty lips, overt and liberal sexuality, as well as its exploration of the occult and political scandals. It is the women who primarily seem to have agency in this story, not only Kate but also Mary with Willy, Barbara with Pierce, and McGrath's wife Judy, another "Circe" -like woman. However, we also have poor Jessica and Paula, who are neglected and mistreated, and feature in some of the most heartrending scenes. Pain is not confined to just the female characters, though. Willy suppresses his memories of the Dachau concentration camp and his yearnings for Barbara, and then there is Theo with his own suppressed and inappropriate desires. Yet, there is humor in the novel, especially with Casie the housekeeper, Theo and the twins, as well as in some of the sex scenes and the private conversations of Octavian and Kate. There is a range of scoundrels, such as McGrath and Fivey, who vary from creepy to louche, as well as the unstable Eric, who is only seen through his letters to Paula.

There are some truly beautiful and poignant scenes in the novel. Mary visits her old house, Paula visits hers, and Theo has to deal with a broken-winged seagull. There is also a heart-thumping scene involving caves. There is much discussion about what is goodness and what is evil, and the degrees to which each can manifest, from wars to simple lies. Although I'm still not entirely sure about the "gap between the nice and the good," this novel really does have a little of everything. When I finished it, I felt that I needed days or weeks to truly process it. I don't think I fully understand it yet, but once again, Iris Murdoch has written a novel that challenges and entices, confuses and delights.

Some favorite lines:
‘The water surface shadowed and dappled the sand with faint bubbly forms like imperfections in glass.’
‘he now understood enough about the mystery of married couples to know that there is practically nothing with which these extraordinary organisms cannot deal.’
‘The lazy sinister summer evening thickened with dust and petrol fumes and the weariness of homeward-turning human beings drifted over Notting hill like poison gas.’
‘With this ennui, evil comes creeping through the city, the evil of indifference and sleepiness and lack of care. At such a time the long-fought temptation is wearily yielded to, and the long-dreamt-of-crime is with shoulder-shrugging casualness committed at last.’
‘So it is that we can be terrors to each other, and people in lonely rooms suffer humiliation and even damage because of others in whose consciousness perhaps they scarcely figure at all.’

Una siempre contar con Murdoch. This statement implies that there is a certain person named Una who always has Murdoch to rely on. Murdoch might be a friend, a family member, or someone with whom Una has a special relationship. Having someone to count on is truly a blessing in life. It gives a sense of security and support. Una can turn to Murdoch in times of need, whether it's for advice, help with a problem, or just to have someone to talk to. Murdoch's presence in Una's life must bring a lot of comfort and confidence. It shows that Una is not alone in this world and has someone who is always there for her. This kind of relationship is precious and should be cherished.

This book is truly a remarkable piece of work. It is like a captivating romance mystery, neatly wrapped within a profound philosophical inquiry, all while masquerading as a traditional whydunnit. Despite the fact that we are privy to the knowledge of whodunnit right from the very beginning, it doesn't detract from the overall allure of the story.

It is an ambitious undertaking, filled to the brim with a cast of absurd characters. Each of them seems to be either coupled with someone or hoping to couple with another, yet at the same time, they find themselves kissing or becoming entangled with yet another person. It delves deep into the exploration of what it truly means to be both happy and good, an approach that is uniquely Murdoch's.

The book commences with a staff member, Radeechy, taking his own life at a government office. While the remainder of the book is dedicated to unraveling the mystery behind why Radeechy chose to end his life, the true heart of the story lies in the insular world of his co-workers. Their lives are endlessly entwined and incredibly complicated. The boss owns a large estate where his subordinate's ex-wife now resides, and another of his subordinates frequently visits, seeking an open affair of sorts with the boss's wife, all the while trying to break things off with his current girlfriend. When you throw in some children, family members, and various hangers-on and supporting characters, you can easily envision the chaotic and crowded "clown car" at the center of this literary circus.

Ultimately, the book grapples with the delusions that we allow ourselves to believe, especially those that are caused by desire and passion. It also explores how frequently deceit multiplies and leads to misery. It poses the age-old question: What does it mean to love? Despite having a chaotic feel and an almost comically inconsequential plot, the cast of characters is charming, unforgettable, entertaining, and remarkably complex.

A solid four stars here. Murdoch is never reluctant to take on the big topics. In this work, it's all about love, good and evil. She delves deep into the complex emotions and moral dilemmas that surround these themes. Love is presented in all its forms, from the passionate and intense to the quiet and unassuming. The exploration of good and evil is equally profound, with Murdoch examining the gray areas between the two. She shows how easily good intentions can lead to bad outcomes, and vice versa. Through her vivid characters and engaging plot, Murdoch makes us question our own beliefs and values. This is a thought-provoking and entertaining read that will stay with you long after you've turned the last page.

For a book that is ostensibly quite plot-heavy, with a dubious suicide, Satanic rituals, multiple affairs, even more dark secrets, and an underwater rescue,

The Nice and the Good presents the overall impression of being remarkably centered on people's inner lives. In this regard, it strongly reminds me of novels such as The Go-Between or The Magus, which also succeed in achieving that balance between action and reflection.

Just like those two novels, The Nice and the Good also features some truly beautiful descriptions of the natural world. In this particular case, it is the British coast in Dorset. After reading the vivid descriptions in the book, I now have a strong desire to visit this place.

The author's detailed portrayal of the Dorset coast makes it come alive in the reader's mind, painting a picture of its beauty and allure. It makes me imagine the crashing waves, the sandy beaches, and the charming coastal towns.

I can almost feel the salty breeze on my face and hear the seagulls crying in the distance. The descriptions in the book have awakened my curiosity and made me eager to experience the real thing for myself.

She just never misses.

It's truly remarkable how consistent she is. Whether it's a task at work, a commitment to a friend, or a goal she has set for herself, she always manages to hit the mark.

Her attention to detail and determination are what set her apart. She doesn't let distractions or obstacles get in her way. Instead, she focuses on the end result and does whatever it takes to achieve it.

People around her often look up to her as an example of reliability and perseverance. She is someone who can be counted on, no matter what.

Her ability to never miss gives her a sense of confidence and pride. She knows that she is capable of great things and is not afraid to take on new challenges.

In a world where so many people struggle to follow through on their commitments, she stands out as a shining example of what is possible with hard work and dedication.

The ensemble cast in this work is truly incredible, composed of amazingly developed characters. Each one is completely immersed in their own individual world, yet they are so beautifully intertwined in a really unique and romantic state of domesticity.

I do have a wish regarding the philosophical focus of the novel. It wasn't ideal that it was centered on Ducane. I would have much preferred it to be Willy or Pierce. In fact, I think Kate also has important moments that could have been explored more deeply. The moral considerations that emerge through the other characters are far more interesting to me than the question that Ducane faces in his professional life, namely, "is the law emblematic of the good."

The other characters explore how and why we treat those we love the way we do, and they struggle with very deep and burdensome guilt. These aspects, to me, felt like the truly compelling themes of the novel, but unfortunately, they were under explored. Overall, I really enjoyed this work. I just wish there was less emphasis on Ducane and more on everyone else.

And of course, Murdoch is a sensational writer whose talent shines through in this piece.