Iris Murdoch, Alzheimers and Picture Books, by Enid Richemont
Many, many years ago, I was given this book by someone who knew I was a fan of Iris Murdoch's writing, which I once was. I remember being devastated by her diagnosis of Alzheimers from which she would eventually die. Somehow, it seems, I never read this one, because glancing through it, nothing was at all familiar. From time to time, I prune my book collection, but very incompetently, so I thought I would check out this one, especially as it was a lazy, hot Bank Holiday. My reactions to it were weird - it was like meeting someone I'd had a passionate affair with a very long time ago (this happened to me in real life, once, too, and it was a very uncomfortable experience as 1. age had not been kind to him, and 2. he had, astonishingly, considering his talent and intellect, become a born-again Christian on a rather pointless mission to save my soul.) Back to Iris, though (the film based on her life, "Iris", was heartbreaking.) The knight reminded me that I was ...