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A review by jackieeh
Aspects of the Novel by E.M. Forster
4.0
I was inspired to finally sit down and read this when, in the midst of my latest Isherwood read, I determined with glee that I was two degrees separated from Forster. And, yes, I'm the odd one out for several reasons, but E. M. Forster-->Christopher Isherwood-->Edmund White-->Me is a pretty exciting lineup to be part of.
How great would it have been to have been present at these lectures? Or, maybe not. Because today I can dogear pages and make notes in the margins and type up this review immediately, whereas if I had been in Cambridge in 1927 I probably would have sprained my wrist taking notes.
(Spoiler alert, Mr. Forster: technology does change things.)
Everyone knows the part about the king, the queen, and the difference between a plot and a story. Everyone should know how much E. M. Forster loved Moby Dick. This, in particular, spoke to my soul:
I was equally gratified to hear Forster championing Dickens, who I love in the same way I love the Phantom of the Opera musical: for reasons having nothing to do with taste and everything to do with my childhood and expressly against current coolness trends. Of course, Forster's onto me there, too, and adorably explains why he loves the Swiss Family Robinson so much while at the same time recognizing its limits. "That is why we are so unreasonable over the stories we like, and so ready to bully those who like something else."
I liked it. I learned from it. I disagreed with it at times. I'm still beyond thrilled to be two degrees from this guy.
How great would it have been to have been present at these lectures? Or, maybe not. Because today I can dogear pages and make notes in the margins and type up this review immediately, whereas if I had been in Cambridge in 1927 I probably would have sprained my wrist taking notes.
(Spoiler alert, Mr. Forster: technology does change things.)
Everyone knows the part about the king, the queen, and the difference between a plot and a story. Everyone should know how much E. M. Forster loved Moby Dick. This, in particular, spoke to my soul:
Moby Dick is full of meanings: its meaning is a different problem. It is wrong to turn the Delight or the coffin into symbols, because even if the symbolism is correct, it silences the book. Nothing can be stated about Moby Dick except that it is a contest. The rest is song.
I was equally gratified to hear Forster championing Dickens, who I love in the same way I love the Phantom of the Opera musical: for reasons having nothing to do with taste and everything to do with my childhood and expressly against current coolness trends. Of course, Forster's onto me there, too, and adorably explains why he loves the Swiss Family Robinson so much while at the same time recognizing its limits. "That is why we are so unreasonable over the stories we like, and so ready to bully those who like something else."
I liked it. I learned from it. I disagreed with it at times. I'm still beyond thrilled to be two degrees from this guy.