December: Reading E. M. Forster
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2Nickelini
Oooh, I've been busy and didn't realize this was happening. I may be able to fit in either Maurice or Howards End mid-month. Sounds like fun!
3Medellia
Oh, spiffy. I've been reading a lot of Forster this year. I read A Room With a View last year and loved it--it makes it into my top 10 favorites list. After flipping through it again several months ago, I decided to make Forster a reading project for myself this year.
So I read Maurice (loved it), Howards End (loved it), Where Angels Fear to Tread (did not care for it), The Longest Journey (fell between Maurice/Howards End and Where Angels Fear to Tread), and Aspects of the Novel (an excellent, approachable work of criticism that has really affected the way I understand literature). I've read all but three of the stories in the Penguin Selected Stories. They're not as interesting to me as his novels, but they do have a certain quirky charm. Perhaps this group read will be my impetus for finishing that volume--and maybe, if I have the time and energy, I can get to A Passage to India. I've been saving it for "just the right time."
I reviewed Maurice and Howards End and will post those here in a moment.
So I read Maurice (loved it), Howards End (loved it), Where Angels Fear to Tread (did not care for it), The Longest Journey (fell between Maurice/Howards End and Where Angels Fear to Tread), and Aspects of the Novel (an excellent, approachable work of criticism that has really affected the way I understand literature). I've read all but three of the stories in the Penguin Selected Stories. They're not as interesting to me as his novels, but they do have a certain quirky charm. Perhaps this group read will be my impetus for finishing that volume--and maybe, if I have the time and energy, I can get to A Passage to India. I've been saving it for "just the right time."
I reviewed Maurice and Howards End and will post those here in a moment.
4Medellia
My review of Maurice with SPOILERS:
Spoilers follow. When I write a review, I often avoid discussing plot points, but in this novel, as in much of Forster’s work, the interest lies far more in the telling than the plot. In fact, it is interesting to see how much warmth and life Forster can impart to such a simple story. (Boiled down to the bare essentials: Maurice Hall gradually becomes aware of his homosexuality and enters into a chaste but loving relationship with Clive Durham; Clive reverts to (or purports to revert to) heterosexuality and marries; Maurice visits Clive at his estate, Penge, and sleeps with his gamekeeper, Alec Scudder, and after some more conflict between Maurice and Alec, the book ends happily.)
Much of the warmth comes from the typical Forsterian personality of the book, the tone often ironic but not cruel, critical but loving, and filled with poignant, lofty rhetoric. As another reviewer stated, Forster “captures the thrill of discovering your sexuality and capacity for loving another human being,” of coming to truly understand someone. “Love was harmonious, immense,” as Clive falls in love with Maurice; “He poured into it the dignity* as well as the richness of his being, and indeed in that well-tempered soul* the two were one.” When Maurice and Alec both panic and argue and threaten each other, it ends with Alec offering Maurice his hand. “Maurice took it, and they knew at that moment the greatest triumph ordinary man can win . . . He rejoiced because he had understood Alec’s infamy through his own—glimpsing, not for the first time, the genius who hides in man’s tormented soul.”
Forster also gives life to the story through careful and liberal use of symbolism and imagery. In Forster, objects and descriptions are never wasted, never exist in a vacuum, but always contribute to the power and emotion of the story. In the opening scene, young Maurice’s schoolmaster, Mr. Ducie, cringingly informs him about "the mystery of sex” (which Mr. Ducie finds to be “rather a bother”) as they stroll along a grey sea reflecting the colorless sky. He scratches diagrams in the sand, which bear no resemblance to any feelings or thoughts inside Maurice (who is not yet aware of his homosexuality, but cannot quite understand this uniting of male and female). Mr. Ducie waxes poetically and priggishly about Man and Woman and God, but it is silly and passionless rhetoric, and when Maurice says he shall never marry, Mr. Ducie invites Maurice and his future wife to dine with him “ten years hence.” Then they walk off and the tide erases the drawings behind them, and "darkness rolled up again, the darkness that is primeval but not eternal, and yields to its own painful dawn.”
This event is not wasted; Maurice alludes to it after he first sleeps with Alec, and Mr. Ducie’s reappearance (probably some ten years hence!) during the chief conflict between Alec and Clive gives force, irony, and clarity to the situation. The colorless sea, the drawings in the sand, erased by the tide, are the sort of descriptive symbols that take a simple, straightforward scene and impart an unforgettable mythic, resonant quality. The windows at Cambridge and Penge, the primroses and the boathouse at Penge, Alec’s gun, the imagined “crack in the floor” at the hypnotist’s, these are the lifeblood of the work.
Mirrors and echoes of characters and situations through the book provide further resonance and a pleasing sense of unity. Mr. Ducie’s appearances are one example. The interplay of the Clive/Maurice and Alec/Maurice relationships provide the most parallels: Clive and Alec being, respectively, upper and lower class; richer and poorer; chaste and physical; blue-eyed and associated with the Blue Room at Penge, brown-eyed and associated with the Russet Room. Clive is first presented as homosexual, then heterosexual; when Alec first appears, he is flirting with two young women, but he then sleeps with Maurice. At the beginning, Clive and Maurice argue before Maurice climbs into Clive’s window; they reconcile, and later part with a bang. In one of their first encounters, Alec and Maurice have a little tiff, then reconcile; afterwards, Alec climbs into Maurice’s window and they sleep together. This encounter is so forceful as to cause a sort of echo effect, as a major eruption and reconciliation follows, then another separation and reconciliation.
Between the mirrors and echoes of Clive and Alec lies a void in which Maurice falls into despair over the end of his relationship with Clive. I find this to be the weakest section of the book, as the energy slackens and the structure becomes a bit fuzzy. But there were still plenty of moments that kept my interest and attention, such as the oddly touching scene in which Maurice’s grandfather dies, which leads to character growth in Maurice, the cessation of suicidal thoughts in favor of a struggle for life. “Yet he was doing a fine thing—proving on how little the soul* can exist . . . He hadn’t a God, he hadn’t a lover—the two usual incentives to virtue. But on he struggled with his back to ease, because dignity* demanded it. There was no one to watch him, nor did he watch himself, but struggles like his are the supreme achievements of humanity, and surpass any legends about Heaven.”
In two of the quotes above, I starred the words “dignity” and “soul.” Widely separated in the book, the recurrence of these words is another example of Forsterian unity, the repetition of words, themes, phrases in a new context. There are many more examples of this sort of thing in the book, and this is one reason why I find rereading Forster to be rewarding—there’s always more to connect. (Much of what I have written above was heavily influenced by my understanding of the final chapter of Forster’s Aspects of the Novel, in which he discusses his notions of “pattern and rhythm”—I highly recommend that you read at least that chapter.)
For a book in which our eyes are averted from physical encounters, no detail provided, the prose crackles with sexual energy. When Maurice first meets Clive (in Risley’s room, as Maurice is unconsciously drawn to the homosexual Risley), the sentences are peppered with innocuous uses of words and phrases like “come,” “want,” “kneeling,” “flushed,” “under me,” “firm,” “roughly,” and so forth. And I hardly think it is a coincidence that in this meeting, Clive has come to Risley’s room to borrow some piano rolls to “play on Featherstonhaugh’s pianola,” or that Clive rebukes Maurice when he reaches for the roll on the pianola, saying that Maurice would be too rough with it.
As you can probably guess from the above, I developed an immediate and visceral love for this novel. I felt, pleaded, hoped for the characters. I can admit that it’s not Forster’s finest work, and that there are potential flaws—the characters not as finely drawn and fleshed out as they could be, occasional lapses into sentimentality, the ending perhaps improbably happy—but the last is a choice of idealism over realism that I’m ready to defend. The sense of liberation that it provides is an antidote to all that homosexuals in Edwardian England had to suffer, and that many people must still suffer in many parts of the world today. Go Forster.
Spoilers follow. When I write a review, I often avoid discussing plot points, but in this novel, as in much of Forster’s work, the interest lies far more in the telling than the plot. In fact, it is interesting to see how much warmth and life Forster can impart to such a simple story. (Boiled down to the bare essentials: Maurice Hall gradually becomes aware of his homosexuality and enters into a chaste but loving relationship with Clive Durham; Clive reverts to (or purports to revert to) heterosexuality and marries; Maurice visits Clive at his estate, Penge, and sleeps with his gamekeeper, Alec Scudder, and after some more conflict between Maurice and Alec, the book ends happily.)
Much of the warmth comes from the typical Forsterian personality of the book, the tone often ironic but not cruel, critical but loving, and filled with poignant, lofty rhetoric. As another reviewer stated, Forster “captures the thrill of discovering your sexuality and capacity for loving another human being,” of coming to truly understand someone. “Love was harmonious, immense,” as Clive falls in love with Maurice; “He poured into it the dignity* as well as the richness of his being, and indeed in that well-tempered soul* the two were one.” When Maurice and Alec both panic and argue and threaten each other, it ends with Alec offering Maurice his hand. “Maurice took it, and they knew at that moment the greatest triumph ordinary man can win . . . He rejoiced because he had understood Alec’s infamy through his own—glimpsing, not for the first time, the genius who hides in man’s tormented soul.”
Forster also gives life to the story through careful and liberal use of symbolism and imagery. In Forster, objects and descriptions are never wasted, never exist in a vacuum, but always contribute to the power and emotion of the story. In the opening scene, young Maurice’s schoolmaster, Mr. Ducie, cringingly informs him about "the mystery of sex” (which Mr. Ducie finds to be “rather a bother”) as they stroll along a grey sea reflecting the colorless sky. He scratches diagrams in the sand, which bear no resemblance to any feelings or thoughts inside Maurice (who is not yet aware of his homosexuality, but cannot quite understand this uniting of male and female). Mr. Ducie waxes poetically and priggishly about Man and Woman and God, but it is silly and passionless rhetoric, and when Maurice says he shall never marry, Mr. Ducie invites Maurice and his future wife to dine with him “ten years hence.” Then they walk off and the tide erases the drawings behind them, and "darkness rolled up again, the darkness that is primeval but not eternal, and yields to its own painful dawn.”
This event is not wasted; Maurice alludes to it after he first sleeps with Alec, and Mr. Ducie’s reappearance (probably some ten years hence!) during the chief conflict between Alec and Clive gives force, irony, and clarity to the situation. The colorless sea, the drawings in the sand, erased by the tide, are the sort of descriptive symbols that take a simple, straightforward scene and impart an unforgettable mythic, resonant quality. The windows at Cambridge and Penge, the primroses and the boathouse at Penge, Alec’s gun, the imagined “crack in the floor” at the hypnotist’s, these are the lifeblood of the work.
Mirrors and echoes of characters and situations through the book provide further resonance and a pleasing sense of unity. Mr. Ducie’s appearances are one example. The interplay of the Clive/Maurice and Alec/Maurice relationships provide the most parallels: Clive and Alec being, respectively, upper and lower class; richer and poorer; chaste and physical; blue-eyed and associated with the Blue Room at Penge, brown-eyed and associated with the Russet Room. Clive is first presented as homosexual, then heterosexual; when Alec first appears, he is flirting with two young women, but he then sleeps with Maurice. At the beginning, Clive and Maurice argue before Maurice climbs into Clive’s window; they reconcile, and later part with a bang. In one of their first encounters, Alec and Maurice have a little tiff, then reconcile; afterwards, Alec climbs into Maurice’s window and they sleep together. This encounter is so forceful as to cause a sort of echo effect, as a major eruption and reconciliation follows, then another separation and reconciliation.
Between the mirrors and echoes of Clive and Alec lies a void in which Maurice falls into despair over the end of his relationship with Clive. I find this to be the weakest section of the book, as the energy slackens and the structure becomes a bit fuzzy. But there were still plenty of moments that kept my interest and attention, such as the oddly touching scene in which Maurice’s grandfather dies, which leads to character growth in Maurice, the cessation of suicidal thoughts in favor of a struggle for life. “Yet he was doing a fine thing—proving on how little the soul* can exist . . . He hadn’t a God, he hadn’t a lover—the two usual incentives to virtue. But on he struggled with his back to ease, because dignity* demanded it. There was no one to watch him, nor did he watch himself, but struggles like his are the supreme achievements of humanity, and surpass any legends about Heaven.”
In two of the quotes above, I starred the words “dignity” and “soul.” Widely separated in the book, the recurrence of these words is another example of Forsterian unity, the repetition of words, themes, phrases in a new context. There are many more examples of this sort of thing in the book, and this is one reason why I find rereading Forster to be rewarding—there’s always more to connect. (Much of what I have written above was heavily influenced by my understanding of the final chapter of Forster’s Aspects of the Novel, in which he discusses his notions of “pattern and rhythm”—I highly recommend that you read at least that chapter.)
For a book in which our eyes are averted from physical encounters, no detail provided, the prose crackles with sexual energy. When Maurice first meets Clive (in Risley’s room, as Maurice is unconsciously drawn to the homosexual Risley), the sentences are peppered with innocuous uses of words and phrases like “come,” “want,” “kneeling,” “flushed,” “under me,” “firm,” “roughly,” and so forth. And I hardly think it is a coincidence that in this meeting, Clive has come to Risley’s room to borrow some piano rolls to “play on Featherstonhaugh’s pianola,” or that Clive rebukes Maurice when he reaches for the roll on the pianola, saying that Maurice would be too rough with it.
As you can probably guess from the above, I developed an immediate and visceral love for this novel. I felt, pleaded, hoped for the characters. I can admit that it’s not Forster’s finest work, and that there are potential flaws—the characters not as finely drawn and fleshed out as they could be, occasional lapses into sentimentality, the ending perhaps improbably happy—but the last is a choice of idealism over realism that I’m ready to defend. The sense of liberation that it provides is an antidote to all that homosexuals in Edwardian England had to suffer, and that many people must still suffer in many parts of the world today. Go Forster.
5Medellia
My review of Howards End (no spoilers to speak of):
In a letter to Forrest Reid in 1915, E.M. Forster wrote, “My defense at any Last Judgement would be ‘I was trying to connect up and use all the fragments I was born with’—well you had it exhaustingly in Howards End, and Maurice*, though his fragments are more scanty and more bizarre than Margaret’s, is working at the same job.”
You may be aware that the epigram to Howards End is ‘Only connect…,” itself a fragment of a crucial speech which lays forth the central philosophy of our heroine, Margaret Schlegel: “She would only point out the salvation that was latent in his own soul, and in the soul of every man. Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer. Only connect, and the beast and the monk, robbed of the isolation that is life to either, will die.”
This theme of connections, inner and outer, and above all interpersonal, forms the backbone of the work. Margaret and Helen Schlegel, quietly focused on their inner lives, on connecting up their fragments and becoming fully realized individuals, encounter the Wilcoxes, with their “outer lives of telegrams and anger,” and Leonard Bast, teetering on the edge of poverty, focused on survival but wishing for better. The Schlegels, part of a disappearing class in England, living comfortably off of the money they inherited from their father, enjoy the luxury of the pursuit of art and lofty ideals. Leonard Bast’s life of struggling to put food on the table prevents him from reaching those heights of art and the mind, instilling in him a great desire for them and leading him to idealize the Schlegels. Mr. Wilcox makes his money in the brutal world of colonial exploitation and greedily acquires possession after possession, while his money-hungry children keep their hands outstretched.
The book is commonly analyzed as an exploration of the question of “who shall inherit England,” as Lionel Trilling put it. Howards End, the Wilcoxes’ residence, passed down through Mrs. Wilcox, stands in for England in this scenario. Alongside this consideration is the question of whether individuals of different social classes and temperaments can, indeed, “connect,” or whether this is simply an impractical ideal. These questions come together in the end, and the answers are not straightforward. The simple answer to “who shall inherit England” would seem to be the Schlegels (particularly, Margaret); however, I think that the final chapter suggests a certain synthesis that contains something of the Schlegels, the Wilcoxes, and even of Leonard Bast. It may be a tentative synthesis, even a slightly uneasy one, but it points hopefully toward future generations. That all is not neatly and happily wrapped up with every character at the end shows that connection is sometimes, but not always, possible. Perhaps it is because of this that Margaret states, “It is only that people are far more different than is pretended . . . It is part of the battle against sameness. Differences—eternal differences, planted by God, in a single family, so that there may always be colour; sorrow, perhaps, but colour in the daily grey.” For those who do connect, the reward is the special joy that left me smiling after the final sentence.
Mrs. Wilcox is one of the most fascinating creatures I have met in fiction recently. From her first appearance, she radiates a sort of spooky otherness that hangs over all the action, seeming to guide the movements of the other characters even after her death. I cannot quite penetrate her veil yet, though I have a sense of simultaneously knowing and not knowing her. In her first scene, I decided that she was my new hero—next scene, oh wait, no—next scene, oh yes she is—oh, then again… It is not that she is inconsistent, it is that her motivations are so far removed from mine that I can’t always predict her. At any rate, her domestic “tunnel vision” makes a fascinating counterpart to Mr. Wilcox’s aggressive imperialism.
Overall, this is a book that I can’t possibly grasp on a first reading. Only two-thirds of the way through did I start to assemble a list of themes and repeated phrases—movement vs. stillness, proportion, inner/outer, colour vs. grey or black and white, tangible/abstract, seen/unseen, item by item vs. the whole, and so forth. And of course there are those little connections that you notice as you read but know that there are so many more of, like Helen’s description of Howards End as a cozy “rabbit warren,” and the chilling description 200 pages later of Mr. Wilcox’s workplace areas as “little rabbit-hutches faced with glass or wire.” So it is with pleasure that I say that as of now I only perceive the work item by item, but that I look forward to future readings and hope, like Margaret, to perceive it as a whole.
All lovers of music should read chapter five, in which Forster details the characters’ differing reactions to a performance of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. On a personal note, I was lucky enough to take a class two years ago with Michael Steinberg (“Talking About Music,” he called it), a great man with a great love of the arts and a lifetime of service in the classical music world. He died a month ago, and he is greatly missed. He read that chapter aloud to us in class one day, and it was a sweet pleasure to read it on the page and hear his voice in my head. Professore M. was an inspiration, and I hope that I will have the chance someday to read that passage aloud to my own students. Of particular note was Helen’s fanciful reaction, in which little “goblins” crept into the work—“they merely observed in passing that there was no such thing as splendour or heroism in the world”—the goblins were vanquished, crept in again, and were vanquished at last in the joyful, heroic conclusion. “But the goblins were there. They could return. He had said so bravely, and that is why one can trust Beethoven when he says other things.”
And that, too, is why I trust Forster. He is also funny, witty, warm, wry, and a moralist in the best sense. There are even more layers that I haven’t packed into this review—characters, symbols, philosophical musings, finely crafted prose. But I’ll stop here and say, read it, and tell me what you think.
(*E.M. Forster's Maurice was written 3-4 years after Howards End.)
In a letter to Forrest Reid in 1915, E.M. Forster wrote, “My defense at any Last Judgement would be ‘I was trying to connect up and use all the fragments I was born with’—well you had it exhaustingly in Howards End, and Maurice*, though his fragments are more scanty and more bizarre than Margaret’s, is working at the same job.”
You may be aware that the epigram to Howards End is ‘Only connect…,” itself a fragment of a crucial speech which lays forth the central philosophy of our heroine, Margaret Schlegel: “She would only point out the salvation that was latent in his own soul, and in the soul of every man. Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer. Only connect, and the beast and the monk, robbed of the isolation that is life to either, will die.”
This theme of connections, inner and outer, and above all interpersonal, forms the backbone of the work. Margaret and Helen Schlegel, quietly focused on their inner lives, on connecting up their fragments and becoming fully realized individuals, encounter the Wilcoxes, with their “outer lives of telegrams and anger,” and Leonard Bast, teetering on the edge of poverty, focused on survival but wishing for better. The Schlegels, part of a disappearing class in England, living comfortably off of the money they inherited from their father, enjoy the luxury of the pursuit of art and lofty ideals. Leonard Bast’s life of struggling to put food on the table prevents him from reaching those heights of art and the mind, instilling in him a great desire for them and leading him to idealize the Schlegels. Mr. Wilcox makes his money in the brutal world of colonial exploitation and greedily acquires possession after possession, while his money-hungry children keep their hands outstretched.
The book is commonly analyzed as an exploration of the question of “who shall inherit England,” as Lionel Trilling put it. Howards End, the Wilcoxes’ residence, passed down through Mrs. Wilcox, stands in for England in this scenario. Alongside this consideration is the question of whether individuals of different social classes and temperaments can, indeed, “connect,” or whether this is simply an impractical ideal. These questions come together in the end, and the answers are not straightforward. The simple answer to “who shall inherit England” would seem to be the Schlegels (particularly, Margaret); however, I think that the final chapter suggests a certain synthesis that contains something of the Schlegels, the Wilcoxes, and even of Leonard Bast. It may be a tentative synthesis, even a slightly uneasy one, but it points hopefully toward future generations. That all is not neatly and happily wrapped up with every character at the end shows that connection is sometimes, but not always, possible. Perhaps it is because of this that Margaret states, “It is only that people are far more different than is pretended . . . It is part of the battle against sameness. Differences—eternal differences, planted by God, in a single family, so that there may always be colour; sorrow, perhaps, but colour in the daily grey.” For those who do connect, the reward is the special joy that left me smiling after the final sentence.
Mrs. Wilcox is one of the most fascinating creatures I have met in fiction recently. From her first appearance, she radiates a sort of spooky otherness that hangs over all the action, seeming to guide the movements of the other characters even after her death. I cannot quite penetrate her veil yet, though I have a sense of simultaneously knowing and not knowing her. In her first scene, I decided that she was my new hero—next scene, oh wait, no—next scene, oh yes she is—oh, then again… It is not that she is inconsistent, it is that her motivations are so far removed from mine that I can’t always predict her. At any rate, her domestic “tunnel vision” makes a fascinating counterpart to Mr. Wilcox’s aggressive imperialism.
Overall, this is a book that I can’t possibly grasp on a first reading. Only two-thirds of the way through did I start to assemble a list of themes and repeated phrases—movement vs. stillness, proportion, inner/outer, colour vs. grey or black and white, tangible/abstract, seen/unseen, item by item vs. the whole, and so forth. And of course there are those little connections that you notice as you read but know that there are so many more of, like Helen’s description of Howards End as a cozy “rabbit warren,” and the chilling description 200 pages later of Mr. Wilcox’s workplace areas as “little rabbit-hutches faced with glass or wire.” So it is with pleasure that I say that as of now I only perceive the work item by item, but that I look forward to future readings and hope, like Margaret, to perceive it as a whole.
All lovers of music should read chapter five, in which Forster details the characters’ differing reactions to a performance of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. On a personal note, I was lucky enough to take a class two years ago with Michael Steinberg (“Talking About Music,” he called it), a great man with a great love of the arts and a lifetime of service in the classical music world. He died a month ago, and he is greatly missed. He read that chapter aloud to us in class one day, and it was a sweet pleasure to read it on the page and hear his voice in my head. Professore M. was an inspiration, and I hope that I will have the chance someday to read that passage aloud to my own students. Of particular note was Helen’s fanciful reaction, in which little “goblins” crept into the work—“they merely observed in passing that there was no such thing as splendour or heroism in the world”—the goblins were vanquished, crept in again, and were vanquished at last in the joyful, heroic conclusion. “But the goblins were there. They could return. He had said so bravely, and that is why one can trust Beethoven when he says other things.”
And that, too, is why I trust Forster. He is also funny, witty, warm, wry, and a moralist in the best sense. There are even more layers that I haven’t packed into this review—characters, symbols, philosophical musings, finely crafted prose. But I’ll stop here and say, read it, and tell me what you think.
(*E.M. Forster's Maurice was written 3-4 years after Howards End.)
6Carmenere
E. M. Forster is already a favorite of mine. Howard's End and Room with a View being two fabulous books which I read a few years back. In honor of Forster I will be reading A Passage to India this month. It comes off of my TBR shelf so I can use it toward my ABC challenge as well as 75 book challange. Happy December reading!
7teelgee
I've had A Room with a View on my shelf for a long time - so ready to read it!
8lauralkeet
>7 teelgee:: yeah, we have a copy around here somewhere ... not sure if I'll get to it this month, though. Loved the film.
9englishrose60
One of my favourite authors. I have read all of his novels and liked them all. I shall not be rereading any of them this month but look forward to reading all your comments.
10digifish_books
BBC Radio 7 has a dramatisation of Where Angels Fear to Tread available at http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00fs89j/episodes/player
11wookiebender
I did enjoy A Room With A View (and the movie adaptation with Helena Bonham Carter) as an impressionable young thing. I read A Passage to India a year or two ago, and was less entertained - it seemed rather difficult in places, although not impossible, but I don't think it's one I'll re-read.
I still have on my shelves: Where Angels Fear to Tread and Howard's End. I think I might tackle Howard's End, if I can find where I've shelved it!!
I still have on my shelves: Where Angels Fear to Tread and Howard's End. I think I might tackle Howard's End, if I can find where I've shelved it!!
12Donna828
If you have a landing in your house, wookiebender, be sure and look there. Howard's End Is On The Landing by Susan Hill is on my wish list for 2010.
A Room With A View has been read and reread by me, so I think I'll look for a copy of A Passage to India later this month, and Maurice also looks interesting. Thanks, Medelia, for that excellent review above.
Edited to try and coax out a touchstone for Howard's End Is On The Landing.
A Room With A View has been read and reread by me, so I think I'll look for a copy of A Passage to India later this month, and Maurice also looks interesting. Thanks, Medelia, for that excellent review above.
Edited to try and coax out a touchstone for Howard's End Is On The Landing.
13Carmenere
No offense E.M. but Elizabeth von Arnim's picture was so much more pleasing to look at when it popped up on my screen.
14socialpages
I will start A Passage to India in the next few days.
Great reviews Medelia. Have you reviewed A Room With A View? I recently listened to it and enjoyed it as my introduction to E M Forster. I would love to hear your thoughts on it.
Great reviews Medelia. Have you reviewed A Room With A View? I recently listened to it and enjoyed it as my introduction to E M Forster. I would love to hear your thoughts on it.
15wookiebender
#12> If I had a landing, I'd definitely be storing Howard's End there! :)
I think it's actually already in Mt TBR (next to the bed) because I got all efficient and sorted out my Forster books back when he was first chosen! But I forgot to check last night.
I think it's actually already in Mt TBR (next to the bed) because I got all efficient and sorted out my Forster books back when he was first chosen! But I forgot to check last night.
16Medellia
#12 Donna828: Thanks! And I'm glad you made me go look up that Susan Hill book--it looks like something to add to the wishlist.
#14 socialpages: I haven't done a review for A Room With a View--I thought I would do one once I had reread it. Actually, maybe I'll reread it this month--it's a busy month for me, and that may be a more realistic goal than getting to A Passage to India. And it doubles for me as good literature & comfort read, so it'll be nice for evenings when I'm frazzled.
I've convinced myself. :) I'll keep you posted.
#14 socialpages: I haven't done a review for A Room With a View--I thought I would do one once I had reread it. Actually, maybe I'll reread it this month--it's a busy month for me, and that may be a more realistic goal than getting to A Passage to India. And it doubles for me as good literature & comfort read, so it'll be nice for evenings when I'm frazzled.
I've convinced myself. :) I'll keep you posted.
17janeajones
I just found a very dusty New Directions New Classics version of The Longest Journey on my shelves, so I'll read that one sometime this month. It's a wartime book that originally sold for $1.59 and which I picked up for 59 cents sometime in the misty past.
18Porua
I’ll be reading A Passage to India by E. M. Forster. Saw the 1984 David Lean movie a few years ago and quite liked it. Let's see how different (or not) the book is from the movie.
19bell7
I'll be reading A Room with a View.
20Porua
Finished A Passage to India. Wrote a rather long review of it. Check out my 50 Book Challenge thread,
http://www.librarything.com/topic/72408 for it.
I'll be starting a short story collection by him called The Celestial Omnibus and Other Stories today.
http://www.librarything.com/topic/72408 for it.
I'll be starting a short story collection by him called The Celestial Omnibus and Other Stories today.
21jfetting
I'm also reading The Celestial Omnibus and Other Stories - these stories are very different from his novels! "The Celestial Omnibus" is my favorite. It's the story of a little boy who finds a sign in an alley saying that he can catch a bus to heaven in that alley at either sunset or sundown. Heaven is more of a book-lovers heaven, populated with favorite characters (Tom Jones shows up) and the bus drivers are authors. It's fantastic.
22Porua
#21 I read the title story, The Celestial Omnibus, as a part of another short story collection called Short Stories of To-day. I was 10-12 years old (I was always reading stuff meant for grown ups) and this is one of the stories that stuck with me. Now that I've found the original book I'm eager to explore it and learn about the other stories.
23Porua
Finished reading The Celestial Omnibus and Other Stories. A rather strange experience for me. My review,
http://www.librarything.com/work/3032497/reviews/53581103
http://www.librarything.com/work/3032497/reviews/53581103
24jfetting
I like your review Porua. "Strange but beautiful" is exactly the right way to describe these stories. In the end, I loved them.
25Porua
# 24 Thank you, jfetting! This book is certainly different from anything else I've read so far this year.
26socialpages
I have just finished A Passage to India, which I read concurrently with the York Advanced Notes for A Passage to India. Very glad I did too. After reading Porua's excellent review (msg 20) I felt I needed some expert help to understand the different layers of meaning in Forster's work. This is a book which needs to be read slowly.
The Indians don't understand the English and the English don't understand the Indians. Confusion and conflict follow. Even the Indians are divided into Moslems and Hindus. Tension arises when what is intended is misinterpreted. I
I was a little disappointed that the reader never finds out what really happened to Adela in the cave but then I realised that it didn't matter.
The Indians don't understand the English and the English don't understand the Indians. Confusion and conflict follow. Even the Indians are divided into Moslems and Hindus. Tension arises when what is intended is misinterpreted. I
I was a little disappointed that the reader never finds out what really happened to Adela in the cave but then I realised that it didn't matter.
27Donna828
26: This is a book which needs to be read slowly.
I have rushed through too many good books this year, so I am saving A Passage to India to read after Christmas during that lull when we are eating leftovers and Christmas cookies and not much is required of me. It will probably take me into the new year.
I have rushed through too many good books this year, so I am saving A Passage to India to read after Christmas during that lull when we are eating leftovers and Christmas cookies and not much is required of me. It will probably take me into the new year.
28lauralkeet
OK, I'm in! I've been zipping through my December reads and being surrounded by snow at the moment, a trip to Tuscany is just what I need. So last night I started A Room with a View. As I wrote on my blog today, I've seen the 1985 Merchant Ivory film about a million times; it was superbly cast and received an Oscar nomination for cinematography. So it's impossible to read without imagining Helena Bonham-Carter as Lucy, or Maggie Smith as Charlotte. And it's easy to visualize scenic Florence and the English countryside. So I intend to really key in on the language and look for nuances that may not have been apparent to me on film.
29lauralkeet
Where is everybody? It's 24 hours after my last post ... and I've finished A Room with a View. Quite enjoyable but absolutely impossible for me to separate the book from the film. I can't quite say why, but I am fairly certain that if I hadn't seen the film I would not have enjoyed this book as much as I did. So I am left giving this book a respectable rating, while urging anyone who has not seen the film to do so ... you will not be disappointed !!
30janeajones
I've started The Longest Journey, but I can't say it's grabbed me by the throat -- I've been distracted by a couple of other books along the way. I will try to finish by the end of the month.
31christiguc
I've read Where Angels Fear to Tread. It was enjoyable, but I wasn't wowed by it. However, I did purchase The Celestial Omnibus and other stories because of the comments people have made here.
32Nickelini
#29 - I actually prefer the movie A Room With a View to the book--sacrilegious words here at LT, I know, but the cinematography! the music! the sets! the costumes! the casting! the hot Italian guy who drives the cart! You miss all of that in the book.
33Carmenere
I've been reading A Passage to India and about 3/4 of the way thru it. So far I like it very much but very curious as to how it all ends. Never saw the movie but I just picked it up from the library and will not view it until I've finished the book.
34lauralkeet
>32 Nickelini:: and the pond scene!
35Donna828
>33 Carmenere:: I've barely started A Passage to India, Lynda. Good to know that you like it. After reading the last few posts, I've been wanting to see some of the movie adaptations of Forster's books.
36wrmjr66
I've read both A Passage to India and Howard's End, but it has been ages. I am currently reading Where Angels Fear to Tread, and I hope to have it finished by the end of the month. It is very short, but then there is so much else to do this time of year!
38digifish_books
The movie, A Passage to India, is also superior to the book, IMHO. For me, Forster is a bit like Austen, I enjoy them more as movie adaptations than as novels.
39scarper
Hi all, great group!
I read A Passage to India about 10 years ago and it remains one of my all time favouite books. I quickly followed it with Where Angels Fear to Tread, A Room with a View and The Longest Journey. I found all three to be good reads but disappointing compared with A Passage to India...which may have been inevitable!
So i left Forster without reading Howards End. By coincidence, i decided to read it over the holidays and another kind member told me that Forster was this group's December author.
I read A Passage to India about 10 years ago and it remains one of my all time favouite books. I quickly followed it with Where Angels Fear to Tread, A Room with a View and The Longest Journey. I found all three to be good reads but disappointing compared with A Passage to India...which may have been inevitable!
So i left Forster without reading Howards End. By coincidence, i decided to read it over the holidays and another kind member told me that Forster was this group's December author.
40merry10
I'm halfway through Howard's End and loving it. I have A Passage to India waiting to be read too. Zadie Smith's On Beauty is a homage to Howard's End so I'll be interested how she did that.
41Carmenere
My mini review is here for those who are interested http://www.librarything.com/profile_reviews.php?view=Carmenere
42wrmjr66
I just finished Where Angels Fear to Tread, and I have to say I was a bit disappointed (if you want to find out why, read my review on the book's page). Certainly it doesn't measure up to Howard's End or A Passage to India. I'd call it a minor novel by a minor novelist.
43janeajones
Well, I finished The Longest Journey. It is Forster's second novel published in 1922. I found it somewhat amusing, if a bit quaint. The book jacket blurb claims "as a novel of ideas it is one of Forster's most brilliant and provocative performances." I found the ideas neither brilliant or provocative, in comparison with say, Thomas Mann's Death in Venice. It has more in common with some of D.H. Lawrence's disquisitions on the conflict of the life of the mind vs. the life of the body -- spirituality vs. nature -- without the sexual frisson of DHL.
The protagonist is Ricky Elliot, an orphaned and lame young Cambridge graduate. He unfortunately falls in love with and marries the unimaginative, practical and conservative Agnes. While visiting his aunt, family secrets begin to be revealed that will lead both to liberation and tragedy. The novel is an interesting mirror into the class conflicts in Britain in the period between WWI and WWII.
The protagonist is Ricky Elliot, an orphaned and lame young Cambridge graduate. He unfortunately falls in love with and marries the unimaginative, practical and conservative Agnes. While visiting his aunt, family secrets begin to be revealed that will lead both to liberation and tragedy. The novel is an interesting mirror into the class conflicts in Britain in the period between WWI and WWII.
44teelgee
Last night I finished A Room with a View. I enjoyed it but wasn't excited by it. I do want to see the movie now.
I liked Forster's exploration of the rights of women, though it was still about getting the man. There were many humorous moments and a lot of lovely prose. I gave it 3.5 stars.
I liked Forster's exploration of the rights of women, though it was still about getting the man. There were many humorous moments and a lot of lovely prose. I gave it 3.5 stars.
45BookConcierge
Maurice – E M Forster
4****
Written between 1913 and 1914, Forster’s novel of a young man’s awakening homosexuality was not published until 1971, a year after the author’s death. The novel caused a sensation when it was released, not just because of the subject matter, but because Forster dared to write a “happy ending.”
Still, there is much distress for Maurice as he comes to terms with his “inclinations” and struggles to form a relationship that will be honest and true. But then, many a heterosexual young person also struggles to find true love and acceptance.
I loved the way that Forster developed this character, showing Maurice’s confusion and naivete as a young man at boarding school, his headlong reckless nature as he pursued his pleasure and found first love, his despair when he thought all was lost and felt compelled to “find a cure” for his condition, and his eventual awakening to the possibilities that a mature and loving relationship might offer him.
I was appalled by some of the attitudes expressed in the novel, but sadly recognize some of the same behavior in current society. While much has changed in regard to societal attitudes about homosexuality in the hundred years since the book was written, and even in the nearly 50 years since it was first published, there is still hatred and persecution aimed at the members of the GLBT community.
4****
Written between 1913 and 1914, Forster’s novel of a young man’s awakening homosexuality was not published until 1971, a year after the author’s death. The novel caused a sensation when it was released, not just because of the subject matter, but because Forster dared to write a “happy ending.”
Still, there is much distress for Maurice as he comes to terms with his “inclinations” and struggles to form a relationship that will be honest and true. But then, many a heterosexual young person also struggles to find true love and acceptance.
I loved the way that Forster developed this character, showing Maurice’s confusion and naivete as a young man at boarding school, his headlong reckless nature as he pursued his pleasure and found first love, his despair when he thought all was lost and felt compelled to “find a cure” for his condition, and his eventual awakening to the possibilities that a mature and loving relationship might offer him.
I was appalled by some of the attitudes expressed in the novel, but sadly recognize some of the same behavior in current society. While much has changed in regard to societal attitudes about homosexuality in the hundred years since the book was written, and even in the nearly 50 years since it was first published, there is still hatred and persecution aimed at the members of the GLBT community.
