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Oh, love. Oh, Forster. Oh, is there anything more perfect than Forster on the beauty, the necessity, the transforming force of love? It's enough to make me fall in love with Forster himself. Last night I finished A Room with a View; I wanted to love it and love it I did.
I think my appreciation of this book is due in part to my previous reading of Forster--call it the Maurice effect. When I read Howards End I found it a bit cold; it was clear that Forster had a point to prove, and the novel seemed more like an intellectual exercise than a truly compelling story. It took Maurice (about which I was over the moon a year ago) to show me that Forster's intellectualism is inextricably linked to emotion, and that if he has a point to prove it's only because the point is so deeply felt. So when I opened A Room with a View and in the first chapter found Lucy Honeychurch saying, "About old Mr. Emerson--I hardly know. No, he is not tactful; yet, have you ever noticed that there are people who do things which are most indelicate, and yet at the same time--beautiful?" my heart rose, and I knew what sort of book I was in for and that I would love it.
A Room with a View begins in Florence, where Lucy is traveling with her cousin. Lucy is a young woman who has led a conventional life, but, because this is Forster, she must wake up out of conventionality and into an authentic life. This is easier to do in Italy, where Lucy meets and falls in love with a strange young man named George Emerson, and harder once she's back in England--Forster does an excellent job of showing us just how hard it is for Lucy to leave the safety of propriety.
It is possible, I suppose, to read A Room with a View primarily as a comedy of manners. It certainly contains enough humor, and Forster is clever enough at satirizing his cast of oh-so-English tourists in Italy. But since I suffer from a life-long case of terminal sincerity, the comedic aspects mattered less to me than the soul-stirring aspects. I believed completely in Lucy's struggles, and in their importance. I loved the delicate touch with which Forster set his most important scenes, and the life he breathed into his best characters. I liked that fact that even Cecil Vyse, representative of all that is repressive about society, turned noble in defeat--his final scene in the novel is really quite touching. I liked the ending too--I should have been able to predict it, but each time I thought I knew what was going to happen some uncertainty crept into me and I questioned.
Really a lovely book. It won't displace Maurice as my favorite Forster, but I'm so glad I read it. I've been having a run of very good reading luck lately: first To the Lighthouse, then Tinkers, and now this!
I think my appreciation of this book is due in part to my previous reading of Forster--call it the Maurice effect. When I read Howards End I found it a bit cold; it was clear that Forster had a point to prove, and the novel seemed more like an intellectual exercise than a truly compelling story. It took Maurice (about which I was over the moon a year ago) to show me that Forster's intellectualism is inextricably linked to emotion, and that if he has a point to prove it's only because the point is so deeply felt. So when I opened A Room with a View and in the first chapter found Lucy Honeychurch saying, "About old Mr. Emerson--I hardly know. No, he is not tactful; yet, have you ever noticed that there are people who do things which are most indelicate, and yet at the same time--beautiful?" my heart rose, and I knew what sort of book I was in for and that I would love it.
A Room with a View begins in Florence, where Lucy is traveling with her cousin. Lucy is a young woman who has led a conventional life, but, because this is Forster, she must wake up out of conventionality and into an authentic life. This is easier to do in Italy, where Lucy meets and falls in love with a strange young man named George Emerson, and harder once she's back in England--Forster does an excellent job of showing us just how hard it is for Lucy to leave the safety of propriety.
It is possible, I suppose, to read A Room with a View primarily as a comedy of manners. It certainly contains enough humor, and Forster is clever enough at satirizing his cast of oh-so-English tourists in Italy. But since I suffer from a life-long case of terminal sincerity, the comedic aspects mattered less to me than the soul-stirring aspects. I believed completely in Lucy's struggles, and in their importance. I loved the delicate touch with which Forster set his most important scenes, and the life he breathed into his best characters. I liked that fact that even Cecil Vyse, representative of all that is repressive about society, turned noble in defeat--his final scene in the novel is really quite touching. I liked the ending too--I should have been able to predict it, but each time I thought I knew what was going to happen some uncertainty crept into me and I questioned.
Really a lovely book. It won't displace Maurice as my favorite Forster, but I'm so glad I read it. I've been having a run of very good reading luck lately: first To the Lighthouse, then Tinkers, and now this!
