Several . . . films [Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Field of Dreams, and Star Trek V: Final Frontier, 1989] send their heroes searching for hints of God's presence in the universe, on quests for spiritual meaning. . . . And like many New Age approaches that cloak self-absorption in veneer of spirituality, the films are not really about God and faith. In every case, the religious quest masks more human concern, reconciliation with the hero's own father. (Caryn James) What seems to us so grandiose about ethics, so mysterious and, in mythical fashion, so self-evident, owes these characteristics to its connection with religion, its origins from the will of the father. (Sigmund Freud 370) Thomas McCaskerville, the Scottish psychoanalyst in Iris Murdoch's Good Apprentice (1985), meticulously ethical, constantly concerned with doing what right, always thinking of the effects of his words and actions on others, and also religious in way, practicing what Harold Bloom calls Murdoch's astringent post-Christian Platonism, kind of negative theology. Let's say that God permanent non-degradable love object, Thomas says to young Stuart Cuno. Must we not imagine something of the sort? Then, running through typical, even stereotypical, Murdochian litany, Stuart eventually says that he wants to go it alone, without god, Just to try to be good, to be for others and not oneself. . . . [The good is] all, everywhere, as if everything spoke it and showed it - and it's so deep that it's entirely me, and yet it's entirely not me too -. Steady on, says Thomas. All that sounds like God. You say there no God, then you aspire to be God yourself, you take over his attributes. Perhaps that the task of the present age (140-41). John Updike, himself religious quester in his fiction, writes that Murdoch, unable in good conscience to locate in the external cosmos where God once reigned, turns, in the paradoxical gesture of Christian humanism, toward Man himself to supply the that Man demands. . . . Murdoch's central male triangle of Harry [Cuno], Edward [Baltram, Harry's stepson], and Stuart [Harry's son] . . . does not illustrate much in the way of depth (126). However, Thomas, the artistic saint, and Jesse Baltram, the saintly artist (Edward's biological father), supply plenty, maybe too much.(1) The esthetic puzzle, Bloom writes, is whether the comic story and the spiritual kernel can be held together by Miss Murdoch's archaic stance as an authorial will. Pearl K. Bell argues that the novel peculiarly disjointed and uneven (36); Gillian Wilce calls it a moral soap opera (30). Good Apprentice, however, does include realistic, sensitive portrayal of an analyst - the first and only such portrayal in her canon - and, as in A Fairly Honourable Defeat (1971), itself social and psychological comedy, and of equal rank with this one, here Murdoch creates characters and landscapes that come to life, colorful and vibrant people and settings. Further, in showing Stuart beating everyone over the head with his heavy-handed ethical message, Murdoch lampooning the didactic side of herself (undercutting her usual moral agenda), tactic that allows the surface of the novel to have light and airy feel, even as dark, mysterious forces seem to be at work. Her command of detail and her painterly descriptions invest the book with what Peter J. Conradi calls her luminous, lyrical accuracy (4). moral agenda allowed to drift and grow beneath the surface, as it often does in good literature. Ironically, by blatantly calling attention to morality with the naive character Stuart, Murdoch manages to push her own moral philosophy into the shadows awhile, where it becomes even more effective. Stuart portrayed as good person, but unintentionally clown, not saint. Thomas the saint figure, but although he presented as an almost ideal man (resembling Murdoch's father in his intelligence, steadiness, and success),(2) he nonetheless has faults as both man and analyst, which are used indirectly to criticize Freudianism once again (as Murdoch often does in both her fiction and nonfiction). …