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johnreadsthings 's review for:
Maurice
by E.M. Forster
Looking at my Goodreads account, I know I do tend to give mostly five-star or four-star ratings to books I read. Seldom do I give a three-star, even more scarce is a two-star. I don't really have a concrete system for this and I still think it shouldn't be that serious or strict (in the end, it's all personal tastes, but as a Virgo Sun, Capricorn Moon, I am inclined to overthink these things). I would've given this a four star, because admittedly, classics have never been my favorite and some of the passages in this novel went over my head and the whole book was indeed challenging to read. But I often bestow five stars to books which have impressed me so much, left quite a mark, spurred emotions of varying degrees and kind, and which in the end, left me goosebumped. And in regards to all that, E.M. Forster's Maurice was an easy five star.
I almost dnf-ed this because I was already at mark 50-pages and I was still struggling to be interested. But a break from the book helped because I am now finished and I am chastising myself for almost dnf-ing this. Forster surprised me with this one. As mentioned, I really don't have much classic books to compare this to but I had an idea of stories from that era, that genre. That expectation was not what I experienced in this one. I was surprised and shocked in the most pleasant way possible. Homosexuality, mentioned! Described! Unveiled! Love between men, front and center! Celebrated! Upending the society and its class system, done! It was all so explicit, nothing, if a little, was left to implicit statements. And I didn't expect, frankly, for a classic to be this engrossing and alive. Even though the language was a challenge, the story Forster told was brimming with life, with characters—especially the three main men: Maurice, Clive, and Alec—so colorful and fleshed out and human, with their strengths and charm, as well as, surprisingly, their own cruelties and darknesses. That last part and that last goodbye shocked me to the core I was left gasping. It was so cathartic and it was so unlike the expectations I had of the genre, of that era, and of that writer from that time. But it was the perfect end note to this brilliant, brilliant book.
I really loved this. And this is one of those books that I would reread until every slang and writing style present and acquired while it was written during the time it was done was deciphered and fully understood. Until I have the story imprinted on my mind. Until I have all these characters living in me.
I almost dnf-ed this because I was already at mark 50-pages and I was still struggling to be interested. But a break from the book helped because I am now finished and I am chastising myself for almost dnf-ing this. Forster surprised me with this one. As mentioned, I really don't have much classic books to compare this to but I had an idea of stories from that era, that genre. That expectation was not what I experienced in this one. I was surprised and shocked in the most pleasant way possible. Homosexuality, mentioned! Described! Unveiled! Love between men, front and center! Celebrated! Upending the society and its class system, done! It was all so explicit, nothing, if a little, was left to implicit statements. And I didn't expect, frankly, for a classic to be this engrossing and alive. Even though the language was a challenge, the story Forster told was brimming with life, with characters—especially the three main men: Maurice, Clive, and Alec—so colorful and fleshed out and human, with their strengths and charm, as well as, surprisingly, their own cruelties and darknesses. That last part and that last goodbye shocked me to the core I was left gasping. It was so cathartic and it was so unlike the expectations I had of the genre, of that era, and of that writer from that time. But it was the perfect end note to this brilliant, brilliant book.
I really loved this. And this is one of those books that I would reread until every slang and writing style present and acquired while it was written during the time it was done was deciphered and fully understood. Until I have the story imprinted on my mind. Until I have all these characters living in me.