...
Show More
"Fools rush in ..."
I guess I'm a fool. I thought E. M. Forster was easy to read, almost too easy sometimes. Delighted with his nearly faultless prose, I read his thin first novel, Where Angels Fear to Tread (1905), all in one afternoon. Forster tells the story of a young English widow who is seduced by her romantic vision of Italy and Italians and yearns to escape her controlling and snobbish in-laws in England. Her hasty marriage to a member of "Italian nobility" sets her English relations aflutter, leading to all sorts of sadness, disappointment, and eventual tragedy.
Line by line, the novel is very well written and a pleasure to read, but the tale's superficial chauvinism, scant humor, and rough ending left me with a nasty case of indigestion. I couldn't believe a book by one of my favorite authors really could be as nauseating as a quick first read made it out to be. So, after dinner, I started slowly reading the book again. Not surprisingly, with a careful second reading, I found the book to be much more palatable – still prickly in parts – but more palatable.
In the afternoon, all of Forster's obvious foreshadowing was lost on me, and I missed much of his dry, understated wit and self-deprecating irony. The characters seemed sketchy and melodramatic, and the plot seemed to ramble. But with a second reading, I found that I really liked Philip, whose disillusionment with false romance and gradual understanding of love and real humanity are at the heart of the story. Gino, Lilia, and Miss Abbot were each much more deftly drawn than I at first realized (even Mrs. Herriton and Harriet aren't so bad once you get used to them). The humor popped out when I took the time to clearly imagine the scenes I was reading. And what I had mistaken for a loosely organized, muddled first novel, was really very carefully balanced and symmetrical.
So, what did I learn from this book? When it comes to E. M. Forster (and I suspect many other authors, too), it really pays to re-read and to read slowly. Maybe requiring this much attention from the reader is the flaw of a first novel or an overly self-conscious novel. I've never before felt compelled to immediately re-read any of Forster's other books. But it was a rewarding undertaking, and I suppose that from now on, once I finish a book, I'll re-read the first chapters, which typically are teeming with important and telling details, before I pass judgment on a book.
I guess I'm a fool. I thought E. M. Forster was easy to read, almost too easy sometimes. Delighted with his nearly faultless prose, I read his thin first novel, Where Angels Fear to Tread (1905), all in one afternoon. Forster tells the story of a young English widow who is seduced by her romantic vision of Italy and Italians and yearns to escape her controlling and snobbish in-laws in England. Her hasty marriage to a member of "Italian nobility" sets her English relations aflutter, leading to all sorts of sadness, disappointment, and eventual tragedy.
Line by line, the novel is very well written and a pleasure to read, but the tale's superficial chauvinism, scant humor, and rough ending left me with a nasty case of indigestion. I couldn't believe a book by one of my favorite authors really could be as nauseating as a quick first read made it out to be. So, after dinner, I started slowly reading the book again. Not surprisingly, with a careful second reading, I found the book to be much more palatable – still prickly in parts – but more palatable.
In the afternoon, all of Forster's obvious foreshadowing was lost on me, and I missed much of his dry, understated wit and self-deprecating irony. The characters seemed sketchy and melodramatic, and the plot seemed to ramble. But with a second reading, I found that I really liked Philip, whose disillusionment with false romance and gradual understanding of love and real humanity are at the heart of the story. Gino, Lilia, and Miss Abbot were each much more deftly drawn than I at first realized (even Mrs. Herriton and Harriet aren't so bad once you get used to them). The humor popped out when I took the time to clearly imagine the scenes I was reading. And what I had mistaken for a loosely organized, muddled first novel, was really very carefully balanced and symmetrical.
So, what did I learn from this book? When it comes to E. M. Forster (and I suspect many other authors, too), it really pays to re-read and to read slowly. Maybe requiring this much attention from the reader is the flaw of a first novel or an overly self-conscious novel. I've never before felt compelled to immediately re-read any of Forster's other books. But it was a rewarding undertaking, and I suppose that from now on, once I finish a book, I'll re-read the first chapters, which typically are teeming with important and telling details, before I pass judgment on a book.