It's a novel I aspire to. It begins with a babble, Miss Honeychurch at table, her aunt in attendance; and it continues as such - a minimum of Forster comment and all narrative. Of course, it would have been wonderful if Forster had come out, told life, love as he really saw it. But he didn't, and we must live with this. He tells the tale of girl expecting boy, not expecting the boy who turns out to be her true love. And that is what is fantastic - the eternal love that is proclaimed. And truth. The girl belongs to boy. And boy to girl. The narrative entertains, and confirms this as it progresses. Love is wonderful - the best we can get, if we can get it. Read this, and read it again - if you believe in love (or maybe more so if you don't). Each reading is an assertion of achievable purpose and hope.
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