Herrliche Analyse des anglo-amerikanischen Kanons vom 18. Jahrhundert bis Ulysses (+Dostojewski, Tolstoj, Gide, Proust) mit zahlreichen trefflichen Bonmots. Aber zwischen den etlichen bemerkenswerten Sprüchen zum Einrahmen gibt es auch allerlei Seichtigkeiten oder Kamingeplauder.

Shrewd.

Really enjoyed this one. While I wasn't familiar with every single book he referenced as examples for his various points, I did add a number of books to my to-read list...well, mentally—I think I still need to add them to my Goodreads list! :)

He likes Jane Austen which is always a good sign (if not an absolute requirement) in literary criticism. Also, his explanation of Wuthering Heights helped me understand it a little bit better.

This would be getting a higher rating if I'd read - or even heard of - most of the books listed. I might check out some of the titles and see if Forster was correct to choose them to demonstrate his theories, but while his observations are sound I'm not sure if his examples have stood the test of time.
Very interesting read for anyone who cares about how novels work, but quite a heavy and convoluted text despite its short length.

E.M. Forster’s book is not what one expects. It is not, in fact, an exposé of how to write. Rather it is a study of what is written, from one writer’s perspective. This is both the book’s strength and its weakness. Forster has opinions about everything, and is often critical of writers we tend to think of as canon. And yet, he offers insights into good writing that can be stunning, and hard to find elsewhere, perhaps because already stated here. He also offers us ways of looking that are surprising. Take his discussion of a novelist with a prophetic voice : « His theme is the universe, or something universal, but he is not necessarily going to ‘say’ anything about the universe ; he proposes to sing, and the strangeness of song arising in the halls of fiction is bound to give us a shock. » There is also a lovely portrait of ‘Homo Fictus’, that is, the way people are presented in novels : they seldom eat, nor sleep, they are obsessed with love and relationships, they die readily, they come into the world ‘more like parcels than human beings’, and they are open to our gaze. Here’s another insight I think particularly telling : « Nearly all novels are feeble at the end. This is because the plot requires to be wound up... and usually the characters go dead while he is at work, and our final impression of them is through deadness. » He is right, of course. Most novel endings feel ‘dead’. Perhaps there is a challenge here to writers to find ways to enliven the endings of books.

The book is packed with insights like these. It may not impact directly on my writing per se, but it has already had an impact on how I understand what a novel is, and what a writer does. Recommended. To both writers, and readers.

ليس من الجيد دائمًا أن تنقل محاضرة مسموعة داخل قاعة جامعية إلى كتاب، فلغة المحاضرة تختلف عن لغة الكتاب، ناهيك عن أن التواصل بن المحاضر والمستمع يختلف كثيرا عن التواصل بين الكاتب والقارئ، واعتماد المحاضر على أساليب معينة لتوصيل وجهة نظره للمستمع يُفقد الكتاب الكثير من النواحي الضرورية لاكتمال بنيته ككتاب. النقطة الأخرى وهي الفارقة؛ أن المحاضر، إدوارد فورستر، يعتمد في دراسته لأركان الرواية على مجموعة كبيرة من الروايات الإنجليزية والفرنسية والروسية وغيرها، تتفاوت شهرتها بين المحدوية وذيوع الصيت، وهذا يتطلب من القارئ الإلمام بها جميعا، فهو يشير إلى شخصيات رواية ما كأنها مثلا موجودة بينهم وأنهم يعرفونها تمام المعرفة فيتعدى ذلك إلى تحليل دقيق لشخصياتهم.. يمكنك تخيل مدى صعوبة كتاب يتحدث عن أشياء تبدو للكاتب بديهية وهي بالنسبة للقارئ أشياء يسمعها لأول مرة. حتى الإلمام بكل هذه الروايات قد لا تُتاح للقارئ العام بخلاف الناقد الأدبي!
لكن رغم كل ذلك فقد استفدت من أجزاء بعينها في الكتاب، خصوصا حين تحدث عن الرواية بصفة عامة، غير مُنسبة لعمل بعينه. لكن دائما على المرء توخي الحذر عند الشروع في قراة كتاب في النقد الأدبي.

This is a rather dated study of the novel that Forster delivered in a series of lectures at the Cambridge Arts Theatre in 1927, but some elements are still of interest.

Forster limits his study to about a dozen novels and their authors: The Brothers Karamazov, Moby Dick, Ulysses, Wuthering Heights, Madame Bovary, Moll Flanders, Emma, Tristram Shandy, The White Peacock, War and Peace, Bleak House and the Ambassadors. He breaks his areas of study into Story, Plot, People, Fantasy, Prophesy, Pattern and Rhythm. Here are some key points I picked up in each of the areas or in their related sub sections:

Story: is event and time sequence driven, and does not get into motivations of why things are happening, always begging only the question of “what comes next.”

Plot: extends story into the motivations behind the actions. Plot demands memory and intelligence. Inquisitive people have bad memory and are stupid at bottom.

People: discussion on “round” and “flat” characters dominates. Flat characters can be described in a sentence and are best used for comedy while round characters are more complex (like real people). Dickens used flat characters mostly but got his point across through them rather effectively. Jane Austen was the master of round characters. The focus on the sensitivity of characters to each other is larger in the novel than in real life, as is the focus on love and death.

POV: can be of several types. Bleak House and War & Peace uses all forms of POV from Omniscient to Third Person. Forster doesn’t mind shifting POV - as long as it works!

Fantasy vs. Prophesy: both involve mythology, but fantasy invokes the creatures of the “lower air” ( i.e. fauns, druids, fairies etc.) while prophesy is grounded in the human. Prophetic fiction demands humility and the absence of a sense of humor.

Pattern: the hourglass pattern, where the principal characters invert roles between beginning and end is the dominant pattern discussed.

Rhythm: Proust is the master of rhythm, everything else in his masterpiece falls apart

Forster makes other observations: “To take the reader into your confidence means intellectual and emotional lowering” - this is a direct reference to the intrusive narrator who comments on the state of affairs from time to time, a style that has since gone out of fashion today. “The artist aims for the truth, and succeeds if he raises emotions.” “A novel must end with at least one living character.”

The Appendix section at the end of this book is well worth reading for it contains the frank thoughts and opinions of Forster on the same books that he read in preparation for the lectures. He isn’t kind to all the novels or to their authors in this section though, which makes it all the more compelling to read!

‘If you ask one man, "What does a novel do?" he will reply placidly: "Well—I don't know—it seems a funny sort of question to ask—a novel’s a novel—well, I don’t know—I suppose it kind of tells a story, so to speak.” He is quite good-tempered and vague, probably driving a motor-bus at the same time and paying no more attention to literature than it merits. Another man, whom I visualize as on a golf-course, will be aggressive and brisk. He will reply: “What does a novel do? Why, tell a story, of course, and I’ve no use for it if it didn’t. I like a story. Very bad taste on my part, no doubt, but I like a story. You can take your art, you can take your literature, you can take your music, but give me a good story. And I like a story to be a story, mind, and my wife’s the same.” And a third man he says in a sort of drooping, regretful voice, “Yes—oh, dear, yes—the novel tells a story.” I respect and admire the first speaker. I detest and fear the second. And the third is myself.’

‘When a baby arrives in a novel it usually has the air of having been posted. It is delivered “off”; one of the elder characters goes and picks it up and shows it to the reader, after which it is laid in cold storage until it can talk or otherwise assist in the action.’

Etc.

Let's get this out of the way immediately: I've never read an E.M. Forster novel, only his short stories. It might seem odd, then, that I chose to read his guide to good novel writing. A bit like taking a cookery class from Jamie Oliver having enjoyed one of his mince pies. Fortunately it wouldn't really have mattered whose guide to novel writing I read since I'm not planning on writing a novel.

That being said… I was in Manchester a few months ago to give a talk at the University. While catching up over tea and biscuits with the faculty someone asked me how my novel was going. I was rather bewildered by this, since I've never so much as started writing a novel. Had he got me confused with someone else? Had I gotten drunk at a conference and told him I was writing a four hundred page thriller about a handsome young Englishman who has to save the world from a nuclear-weapon-wielding arts student using a cunning mix of wit, maths, and did I mention his handsomeness? Because I'm really not ready to start writing my memoirs yet.

But no, I (and he) had fallen victim to a whimsical joke on my department website. Once upon a time I threw in some placeholder text to the effect of “I'm working on a novel, but till then here are my papers”, except I forgot to ever replace it with something less, you know, utterly fallacious.

Fortunately, and despite it being ostensibly a guide to novel writing, you don't need to have plans to write any novels in order to enjoy Aspects of the Novel. In fact if you are planning on writing a novel I'd recommend Stephen King's On Writing as a much more useful and practical guide to the business. This book of Forster's is more of a vague wander through the landscape of prose fiction, pointing out what makes a novel a novel and what properties good novels should possess. And a jolly nice wander it is too.

E M Forester is a remarkable man. Astute. And that's what makes Aspects of the Novel so compelling.

The book is a compilation of lectures, delivered in Trinity College, Cambridge in 1927, on what he considers universal aspects of the novel: story, characters, plot, fantasy, prophecy, pattern, and rhythm.
The lectures are unique and insightful. Had I not lost my book immediately after finishing it I would have loved to quote several of his shrewd, profound and appealing conclusions here.
What still remains with me is a) his emphasis, that writing novel is an art and can not be contained within the boundaries erected by rules and tricks of the 'craft'. In fact, his criticism for the two other contemporary works: Craft of Fiction and Art of Novel ('Yes, but which novel?,' he asks) in the appendix amused me most. And b) his lucid distinction between, and the explanation of the difference in effects of, a story and a plot (If it is in a story we say “and then?” If it is in a plot we say “why?”). These are extremely valuable lectures for a writer of fiction like me who wants to keep his readers hooked.

Even though there is a lot learned as a writer and a critic/reader from this book, I have awarded it only three stars for two main reasons:
1. The lectures rely heavily on assuming (or expecting, reasonably so) an audience that has read Tristram Shandy, The Ambassadors by Henry James, Moby Dick, War and Peace,The Bleak House, Meredith's works (all of which I haven't read) and some then famous, now obscure 19th century works. I could not, thus, participate in the many extensive discussions - extensive by the length of the lectures.
2. The lectures on Prophecy and Fantasy, the central common trait in the novels as per the speaker, are outdated. Describing the spiritual elements in fiction through his definitions does not seem to be necessary anymore. Even if you take the time element out, these two lectures still remain vague, and neither readers nor literary critics benefit from them.

It is a series of lectures that literary students won't like to miss. An I-Ching for literary critics and for those of us who are searching religiously for a book of (literary) wisdom.
A piece of advice: be well acquainted with the 19th century works first to make the most of the book.

E. M. Forster susține că există șapte aspecte ale romanului: Povestirea, Oamenii, Intriga, Fantezia, Profeția, Schema și Ritmul. Pentru mine, nu a contat cât de corectă sau actuală este această scurtă analiză, ci mi-a făcut plăcere să rețin câte ceva:

•tÎn privința povestirii: „Toți semănăm cu soțul Șahrazadei, toți vrem să știm ce se întâmplă mai departe. E o trăsătură universală, și de aceea coloana vertebrală a unui roman trebuie să fie povestirea.” Memoria noastră sentimentală ne face să apărăm valoarea unor povestiri nu tocmai ideale.

•tDeosebirea dintre oamenii vieții și oamenii cărții: „În viața cotidiană nu ne înțelegem niciodată unul pe altul, nu există nici pătrundere completă, nici confesiune totală (...) ipocrizia reciprocă fiind una din condițiile existenței pe acest glob.” Proeminența iubirii la personaje se explică prin nevoia umană de idealizare, căci doar în romane poate fi tratată iubirea ca o permanență, întreținându-ne o iluzie plăcută, în timp ce viața/experiența indică o lipsă de constanță a sentimentelor. Personajele plate sunt necesare în roman, senzația de viață autentică rezultând din ciocnirea lor cu personajele rotunde, cu cele capabile de transformări, de tragedii și care pot surprinde.

•tIntriga solicită inteligența (pentru a considera un fapt atât izolat, cât și în conexiune cu celelalte fapte), dar și memoria cititorului. Defectul romanelor e că slăbesc spre final, ceea ce se explică prin epuizarea energiei scriitorului, prin alunecarea personajelor din mâna lui: „Autorul pretinde că personajele lui acționează pentru el și continuă să le menționeze numele și să folosească semnul dialogului. Dar personajele au fugit sau au murit.”

•tÎn romanele bazate pe fantezie, se cere un suprapreț, cititorul trebuie să accepte convenția propusă. „Ceilalți romancieri spun: Iată niște lucruri care vi s-ar putea întâmpla. Fantezistul spune: Iată ceva care nu se poate întâmpla.”

•tProfeția (numită și cântecul) din romane precum „Frații Karamazov” sau „Moby Dick” aduce implicații adânci în lumea obișnuită a prozei de imaginație. Profetesă este și Emily Bronte, căci „La răscruce de vânturi e o carte plină de zgomot – furtună și rafale de vânt – un zgomot mai important decât cuvintele și gândurile”. La ea, ca și la alți autori profetici: „ceea ce e implicat este mai important decât ceea ce e exprimat”.

•tExistă o schemă a romanelor, precum cea a clepsidrei din „Thais” de Anatole France sau din „Ambasadorii” lui Henry James, în care două personaje fac schimb de situații/aspirații, ca aerul și nisipul din jumătățile de clepsidră. Alte scheme, cum ar fi cea a marelui lanț, sunt și ele ușor de remarcat în romane.

•tRitmul, definit ca repetiție plus variație, poate da frumusețe textului. Proust e indicat aici ca exemplu de autor dezordonat, a cărui creație e ținută laolaltă de cusătura interioară a ritmului.

În concluzii, Forster spune: „Uitându-mă înapoi, la propriile mele fărâme de cunoaștere și în propria mea inimă, văd două tendințe ale spiritului uman: o mare înaintare obositoare, cunoscută sub numele de istorie, și o sfioasă mișcare piezișă de crab.” Mișcarea crabului ar putea duce, treptat, la o lărgire de perspectivă asupra romanului, dar și asupra oamenilor.

I like E.M. Forster novels in the same way I like fancy restaurants.

I appreciate them, but more often than not they are outside of my comfort zone, I don't really fit in with them, and I think they are overpriced and overrated.

Reading this book you get the sense that E.M. Forster is a bit of an opinionated prick. The saving grace here is that he definitely has the skills to back up being an opinionated prick. But I found the book useless as a guide to writing or as a portal into the mind of the writer or the mechanics of good writing, unless you want to write like E.M. Forster.

The book doesn't do a very good job of explaining how E.M. became a good writer either. What it does do is help you to reinforce his views on good writing so you can take his opinion, make it yours, and lord it over other people.

If you love "A Room With a View" or "Howards End" (the books, not the movies) then you might enjoy this book. If you aren't fans of exceedingly high-brow literature, then skip it.