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E. M. Forster

Edward Morgan Forster, generally published as E.M. Forster, was an novelist, essayist, and short story writer. He is known best for his ironic and well-plotted novels examining class difference and hypocrisy in early 20th-century British society. His humanistic impulse toward understanding and sympathy may be aptly summed up in the epigraph to his 1910 novel Howards End: "Only connect".

He had five novels published in his lifetime, achieving his greatest success with A Passage to India (1924) which takes as its subject the relationship between East and West, seen through the lens of India in the later days of the British Raj.

Forster's views as a secular humanist are at the heart of his work, which often depicts the pursuit of personal connections in spite of the restrictions of contemporary society. He is noted for his use of symbolism as a technique in his novels, and he has been criticised for his attachment to mysticism. His other works include Where Angels Fear to Tread (1905), The Longest Journey (1907), A Room with a View (1908) and Maurice (1971), his posthumously published novel which tells of the coming of age of an explicitly gay male character.
years of life: 1 January 1879 7 June 1970

Quotes

Alexandra Skitiovahas quoted2 years ago
“Miss Lav­ish is so ori­ginal,” mur­mured Lucy. This was a stock re­mark,
Alexandra Skitiovahas quoted2 years ago
I wish Miss Lav­ish would tell me her­self. We star­ted such friends. But I don’t think she ought to have run away with Baedeker that morn­ing in Santa Croce. Char­lotte was most an­noyed at find­ing me prac­tic­ally alone, and so I couldn’t help be­ing a little an­noyed with Miss Lav­ish.”
Alexandra Skitiovahas quoted2 years ago
Miss Bart­lett had not heard of Alessio Bal­dov­inetti, but she knew that Mr. Eager was no com­mon­place chap­lain. He was a mem­ber of the res­id­en­tial colony who had made Florence their home. He knew the people who never walked about with Baedekers, who had learnt to take a si­esta after lunch, who took drives the pen­sion tour­ists had never heard of, and saw by private in­flu­ence gal­ler­ies which were closed to them. Liv­ing in del­ic­ate se­clu­sion, some in fur­nished flats, oth­ers in Renais­sance vil­las on Fiesole’s slope, they read, wrote, stud­ied, and ex­changed ideas, thus at­tain­ing to that in­tim­ate know­ledge, or rather per­cep­tion, of Florence which is denied to all who carry in their pock­ets the coupons of Cook.

Impressions

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