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3.96k reviews for:
A Room with a ViewA ROOM WITH A VIEW by Forster, E. M. (Author) on Oct-23-1989 Paperback
E.M. Forster, E.M. Forster
3.78 AVERAGE
3.96k reviews for:
A Room with a ViewA ROOM WITH A VIEW by Forster, E. M. (Author) on Oct-23-1989 Paperback
E.M. Forster, E.M. Forster
3.78 AVERAGE
I loved this. A classic really is a classic for a reason - this book has some unnameable quality that elevates it above many other books, but I couldn't say what it is, exactly. All I know is that even now, 113 years after publication, it still makes an impact.
The novel starts as Lucy Honeychurch, the protagonist, and her cousin Charlotte sit down in the restaurant of a pension in Italy. It's (presumably) around the turn of the century, and Lucy is abroad for the first time. She is dying to be "worldly," to see things, to evolve. She's brought the right travel guide and learned the names of all the artworks one should be seeing while in Florence.
The pension also houses a range of other guests, including the Emersons (a father and a son, both named George).
And the Emersons are the very opposite of what you would expect from a relatively well-to-do British guy in a turn-of-the-century novel. They are, in fact, so thoroughly modern that it offends everyone they meet.
They despise artificiality.
They can't stand posturing.
They prize directness.
They believe in real passion, and in authenticity.
Needless to say, Lucy is shocked when she meets them (and Charlotte, as her chaperone, doesn't know how quickly she can Lucy away from them).
As their holiday continues, however, Lucy realizes she is vaguely intrigued by the Emerson's authentic way of living and being in the world. But she's from a conventional, relatively well-off family. When she gets home, she's pulled back into that conventional atmosphere - and that's when trouble starts.
I suppose one of the things that makes this novel transcend its time, is that Lucy's struggle is still relevant. Do we choose convention, or adventure? And at what cost?
Likewise, there are still many people who are unable to live authentic lives - either due to social or political pressures, or because they are afraid to stray from convention. And I'm not just talking about the Harry & Meghan's of this world, but of regular people who live relatively privileged lives. I have known, and do know, people who look down on certain travel destinations because they're not in guide books, or who tout the merits of a certain movie because this or that actor is in it (even though they have not seen the movie yet). There's very little difference between those people, and Lucy praising a statue because her Baedeker guidebook told her it's good.
It's bewildering to encounter people like that - people who have adopted other people's opinions to cover up the fact that they have none of their own.
(I'm not talking about being shaped by someone else's opinion - we all are. I'm talking about people who don't weigh or synthesize those opinions to then form a position of their own).
The Emerson's simply can't stand all this posturing, and actively speak out against it. It was fascinating to see that play out in a 1908 novel - it was as if a modern reader was talking back to Victorian characters in real time. Super interesting.
And Forster's clever commentary on the way women were treated in Edwardian England:
"'Come this way immediately,' commanded Cecil, who always felt that he must lead women, thoug he knew not whither, and protect them, though he knew not against what" (137).
I also loved Lucy's character development, which was subtle and convincing.
And the writing - oh, I LOVED the writing:
"Honest orthodoxy Cecil respected, but he always assumed that honesty is the result of a spiritual crisis; he could not imagine it as a natural birthright, that might grow heavenward like the flowers" (157).
"There is a certain amount of kindness, just as there is a certain amount of light,' he continued in measured tones. 'We cast a shadow on something wherever we stand, and it is no good moving from place to place to save things; because the shadow always follows. Choose a place where you won't do harm - yes, choose a place where you won't do very much harm, and stand in it for all you are worth, facing the sunshine" (159).
"'Do trust me, Miss Honeychurch. Though life is very glorious, it is difficult. She was still silent. 'Life,' wrote a friend of mine, 'is a public performance on the violin, in which you must learn the instrument as you go along.' I think he puts it well. Man has to pick up the use of his functions as he goes along - especially the function of Love" (212).
And finally, this fantastic, feminist avant-la-lettre speech by George Emerson, of which this is only a fraction:
"He daren't let a woman decide. He's the type who's kept Europe back for a thousand years. Every moment of his life he's forming you, telling you what's charming or amusing or ladylike, telling you what a man thinks womanly; and you, you of all women, listen to his voice instead of to your own" (174).
Ah, so good.
This novel is quiet and thrilling all at once, and I will definitely read more of Forster's work after this marvellous introduction.
The novel starts as Lucy Honeychurch, the protagonist, and her cousin Charlotte sit down in the restaurant of a pension in Italy. It's (presumably) around the turn of the century, and Lucy is abroad for the first time. She is dying to be "worldly," to see things, to evolve. She's brought the right travel guide and learned the names of all the artworks one should be seeing while in Florence.
The pension also houses a range of other guests, including the Emersons (a father and a son, both named George).
And the Emersons are the very opposite of what you would expect from a relatively well-to-do British guy in a turn-of-the-century novel. They are, in fact, so thoroughly modern that it offends everyone they meet.
They despise artificiality.
They can't stand posturing.
They prize directness.
They believe in real passion, and in authenticity.
Needless to say, Lucy is shocked when she meets them (and Charlotte, as her chaperone, doesn't know how quickly she can Lucy away from them).
As their holiday continues, however, Lucy realizes she is vaguely intrigued by the Emerson's authentic way of living and being in the world. But she's from a conventional, relatively well-off family. When she gets home, she's pulled back into that conventional atmosphere - and that's when trouble starts.
I suppose one of the things that makes this novel transcend its time, is that Lucy's struggle is still relevant. Do we choose convention, or adventure? And at what cost?
Likewise, there are still many people who are unable to live authentic lives - either due to social or political pressures, or because they are afraid to stray from convention. And I'm not just talking about the Harry & Meghan's of this world, but of regular people who live relatively privileged lives. I have known, and do know, people who look down on certain travel destinations because they're not in guide books, or who tout the merits of a certain movie because this or that actor is in it (even though they have not seen the movie yet). There's very little difference between those people, and Lucy praising a statue because her Baedeker guidebook told her it's good.
It's bewildering to encounter people like that - people who have adopted other people's opinions to cover up the fact that they have none of their own.
(I'm not talking about being shaped by someone else's opinion - we all are. I'm talking about people who don't weigh or synthesize those opinions to then form a position of their own).
The Emerson's simply can't stand all this posturing, and actively speak out against it. It was fascinating to see that play out in a 1908 novel - it was as if a modern reader was talking back to Victorian characters in real time. Super interesting.
And Forster's clever commentary on the way women were treated in Edwardian England:
"'Come this way immediately,' commanded Cecil, who always felt that he must lead women, thoug he knew not whither, and protect them, though he knew not against what" (137).
I also loved Lucy's character development, which was subtle and convincing.
And the writing - oh, I LOVED the writing:
"Honest orthodoxy Cecil respected, but he always assumed that honesty is the result of a spiritual crisis; he could not imagine it as a natural birthright, that might grow heavenward like the flowers" (157).
"There is a certain amount of kindness, just as there is a certain amount of light,' he continued in measured tones. 'We cast a shadow on something wherever we stand, and it is no good moving from place to place to save things; because the shadow always follows. Choose a place where you won't do harm - yes, choose a place where you won't do very much harm, and stand in it for all you are worth, facing the sunshine" (159).
"'Do trust me, Miss Honeychurch. Though life is very glorious, it is difficult. She was still silent. 'Life,' wrote a friend of mine, 'is a public performance on the violin, in which you must learn the instrument as you go along.' I think he puts it well. Man has to pick up the use of his functions as he goes along - especially the function of Love" (212).
And finally, this fantastic, feminist avant-la-lettre speech by George Emerson, of which this is only a fraction:
"He daren't let a woman decide. He's the type who's kept Europe back for a thousand years. Every moment of his life he's forming you, telling you what's charming or amusing or ladylike, telling you what a man thinks womanly; and you, you of all women, listen to his voice instead of to your own" (174).
Ah, so good.
This novel is quiet and thrilling all at once, and I will definitely read more of Forster's work after this marvellous introduction.
A humorous, charming love story that has some funny moments but honestly didn’t do a lot for me
Good read. I couldn't remember reading it, even though I owned it, so I picked it up again a weekend ago. I was actually more surprised at how true the movie stuck to the novel. That's always pleasant. It's not Pride & Prejudice, but a good romantic turn, none the less.
adventurous
lighthearted
relaxing
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Reread, May 2025: I love this book so much. Wonderful Mr. Emerson! Wonderful violets! Even wonderful Charlotte Bartlett, who gets her redemption right at the end. “By the side of the everlasting Why, there is a Yes—a transitory Yes if you like, but a Yes.” I hadn’t realised before how entirely normal Lucy Honeychurch is. She’s not especially clever, or even sensitive. She has one or two talents, including one for Beethoven, and a certain receptiveness. That’s enough; that suffices, because she allows those parts of her to grow, for her to evade the mental and spiritual aridity of her class and time. The fact that she’s not special is precisely what makes her such a good heroine. We could be like this too, Forster suggests; we could all be true to ourselves, and kinder, and happy. Source: old personal copy
This book just made the list of my top 10 love stories. Fantastic read.
I listened to "A Room with a View" by E.M. Forster on audiobook. Written in 1908, it tells the age old story of a girl who has to choose between the socially acceptable and her heart/mind.
"It is a great opportunity, the possession of leisure."
The story starts in Florence, where the naive young Lucy Honeychurch meets the brutally honest George Emerson, and has a brief moment (and I do mean moment, as lovely as it is) of passion with him.
"The garden of Eden which we say is in the past is yet to come. We shall be equal when we stop despising our bodies."
It then continues to the English countryside, where Lucy decides to marry the stodgy Cecil Vyse (him of good snobby stock) but has all her plans upended by George's arrival and ardent engagements.
"Choose a place where you don't do very much harm and stand there for all you're worth facing the sunshine."
The landscape is beautifully laid out, and the language is precise and hilarious, in that way only the English can describe.
"She gave up trying to understand herself and joined the vast armies of the benighted who followed neither the heart nor the brain and march to their destinies by catchwords."
E.M. Forster skewers society and its stuffy hierarchies and mincing debates, and not a bit of is dated, despite the Edwardian era. If you like this sort of thing - clever funny period pieces that resonate in the modern world, I highly recommend this book.
"It is a great opportunity, the possession of leisure."
The story starts in Florence, where the naive young Lucy Honeychurch meets the brutally honest George Emerson, and has a brief moment (and I do mean moment, as lovely as it is) of passion with him.
"The garden of Eden which we say is in the past is yet to come. We shall be equal when we stop despising our bodies."
It then continues to the English countryside, where Lucy decides to marry the stodgy Cecil Vyse (him of good snobby stock) but has all her plans upended by George's arrival and ardent engagements.
"Choose a place where you don't do very much harm and stand there for all you're worth facing the sunshine."
The landscape is beautifully laid out, and the language is precise and hilarious, in that way only the English can describe.
"She gave up trying to understand herself and joined the vast armies of the benighted who followed neither the heart nor the brain and march to their destinies by catchwords."
E.M. Forster skewers society and its stuffy hierarchies and mincing debates, and not a bit of is dated, despite the Edwardian era. If you like this sort of thing - clever funny period pieces that resonate in the modern world, I highly recommend this book.
Forster, nonostante il suo essere anticonvenzionale, non riesce ad uscire completamente dalla mentalità britannica moralista e bigotta della sua epoca. La rappresentazione dell'Italia è da stereotipo. Per il resto il libro è leggibile e scorrevole per essere stato scritto in quegli anni. Personalmente ho detestato la protagonista.
"Love felt and returned, love which our bodies exact and our hearts have transfigured, love which is the most real thing that we shall ever meet, reappeared now as the world's enemy, and she must stifle it". This book surprised me, both in terms of its extremely scandalous plot and the prominence of individualism as a clear theme. Lucy's narrative was very intriguing to follow, and Forster's way of inviting the reader to speculate Lucy's decisions and perspective was cunningly clever. I will always hold the overall message of this novel close to my heart. The ending was pleasant, and I love how Lucy's sense of self becomes increasingly stronger throughout (in addition to how other characters' directness in their words encourages her to come out of her shell and express her true thoughts). In conclusion, I LOVED reading this, and I must say that novels of manners remain superior!
You know, I can't decide whether Forster had serious literary intentions when he wrote this book. Yes, it has some wonderful, profound moments, but at the same time it read as if Forster was busy chuckling at the naivety of the characters, not taking them very seriously. For instance Lucy. Was Forster siding with her, was she a heroine, or did he think she was slightly ridiculous? I just can't tell. I have a hard time thinking Forster considered her to be a very serious creation at all. There was an air that the characters and the story were all somewhat beneath Forster, like Forster knew this was just a silly little book he wrote to amuse somebody other than himself, and that Forster probably would have looked down upon anyone who said that they'd considered it to be an insightful, serious work.
What an oddity. I think I liked it, though... Or it was very readable, at least. Maybe too much so.
What an oddity. I think I liked it, though... Or it was very readable, at least. Maybe too much so.