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Alec
William di Canzio’s Alec, inspired by Maurice, E. M. Forster’s secret novel of a happy same-sex love affair, tells the story of Alec Scudder, the gamekeeper Maurice Hall falls in love with in Forster’s classic, published only after the author's death.Di Canzio follows their story past the end of Maurice to the front lines of battle in World War I and beyond. Forster, who tried to write an epilogue about the future of his characters, was stymied by the radical change that the Great War brought to their world. With the hindsight of a century, di Canzio imagines a future for them and a past for Alec—a young villager possessed of remarkable passion and self-knowledge.Alec continues Forster’s project of telling stories that are part of “a great unrecorded history.” Di Canzio’s debut novel is a love story of epic proportions, at once classic and boldly new.
352 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 6, 2021
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 315 reviews
September 6, 2021
In Alec, William di Canzio brilliantly rethinks E.M. Forster's gay classic, Maurice.
Alec Scudder is the Welsh boy of working class means that Maurice Hall falls in love with in the classic story of Maurice. But in Alec the story is flipped and Alec's world is centered. We learn about the man who Maurice falls in love with as he grows up a poor boy in Wales with but one sexual encounter that will serve as his homosexual awakening. When he becomes the groundskeeper for a prominent squire he eventually meets Maurice and pushes himself to pursue a high-born man, against all nature and English social order. Where Forster's Maurice ends with the boys being sent off to World War I, di Canzio's book continues on, creating new stories for both Maurice and Alec that extend through the War and beyond.
Alec is truly a beautiful book. Di Canzio aptly taps into Forster's voice but also makes the book much more sexual in a way Forster never would have been allowed to do. This weaving of pre-Stonewall voice without the queer coding makes this book unique and important for it's literary contribution. The only downfall for this book was the disjunction between both the pace and detail of the pre-war and post-war portions of the book: where di Canzio took care with these items early on, the latter half felt rushed and out of place. Either way: Alec is a must read book for fans of Maurice, classic gay literature, and anyone who appreciates a genuinely important ending.
Alec Scudder is the Welsh boy of working class means that Maurice Hall falls in love with in the classic story of Maurice. But in Alec the story is flipped and Alec's world is centered. We learn about the man who Maurice falls in love with as he grows up a poor boy in Wales with but one sexual encounter that will serve as his homosexual awakening. When he becomes the groundskeeper for a prominent squire he eventually meets Maurice and pushes himself to pursue a high-born man, against all nature and English social order. Where Forster's Maurice ends with the boys being sent off to World War I, di Canzio's book continues on, creating new stories for both Maurice and Alec that extend through the War and beyond.
Alec is truly a beautiful book. Di Canzio aptly taps into Forster's voice but also makes the book much more sexual in a way Forster never would have been allowed to do. This weaving of pre-Stonewall voice without the queer coding makes this book unique and important for it's literary contribution. The only downfall for this book was the disjunction between both the pace and detail of the pre-war and post-war portions of the book: where di Canzio took care with these items early on, the latter half felt rushed and out of place. Either way: Alec is a must read book for fans of Maurice, classic gay literature, and anyone who appreciates a genuinely important ending.
August 6, 2021
I am stunned at the beauty of this book. I am a huge E.M. Forster fan. Maurice is one of my favorite books of all-time. The idea that a contemporary writer might create a new book from the vantage point of Alec, Maurice's love made me excited and worried. I hoped he would do justice to the original work and to its legacy. William di Canzio's Alec turns out to be a gorgeous work of fiction standing proud and equal alongside Forster's Maurice. We hear the original story from Alec's viewpoint. We find out what happens to the men after they profess their love for each other. Di Canzio takes us on a journey full of love and hope in a time when gay men didn't dare try to make a happy life for themselves. Through class, and time, and war... true love prevails. I can't stop thinking of Alec and Maurice and the joy these stories give me.
February 10, 2022
The tone of this novel started out on shaky ground for me—too expository and "on the nose." For those who don't know, this novel develops the story of Alec Scudder, the gamekeeper who catches the eye of Maurice in the novel by E.M. Forster.
As Forster explains in the Terminal Note to his novel, "Maurice" is the story of three men: Maurice, who represents Suburbia, his school friend Clive Durham, who represents Cambridge; the third is Alec Scudder, who represents—Forster does not say. Perhaps he represents the "Happier Year" to which the novel is dedicated.
Forster says he tried to evoke the backstory for Alec Scudder but had to scrap it. This novel, then, is that story, Alec's story, and fleshes out Alec's version of events. "Alec" also continues from where "Maurice" left off, bringing the narrative through the horrors of the First World War, known at that time as the Great War. Di Canzio does a wonderful job taking scraps of information from "Maurice" and creating a new work which expands the original. The result is both delightful and (mostly) believable.
The novel "Maurice" was written as a kind of fantasy, and once I adjusted my expectation to accept that "Alec" was written as an homage, in the same vein, I settled down and enjoyed it more. This novel also brings in historical figures out of Forster's life, such as Edward Carpenter and his working-class partner, George Merrill. In fact, even E.M. Forster himself appears under the name Morgan, which is how he was known.
I should like to point out that when "Maurice" was written Forster was still a virgin. During the Great War, Forster worked at a hospital in Alexandria where the wounded veterans cavorted naked on the beach. This is where Forster had his first experience, and this encounter is incorporated into the novel "Alec" through the character Morgan.
During the reading of "Alec" I watched the 1987 movie version of Maurice, as well as picking up the source novel and dipping into biographies of Forster. All in all, it has been quite the journey, maybe not quite The Longest Journey, but then again, it is not yet over.
4 or 5 stars? Depends on an ever fickle whim. "Consistently fickle" — is that a paradox?
As Forster explains in the Terminal Note to his novel, "Maurice" is the story of three men: Maurice, who represents Suburbia, his school friend Clive Durham, who represents Cambridge; the third is Alec Scudder, who represents—Forster does not say. Perhaps he represents the "Happier Year" to which the novel is dedicated.
Forster says he tried to evoke the backstory for Alec Scudder but had to scrap it. This novel, then, is that story, Alec's story, and fleshes out Alec's version of events. "Alec" also continues from where "Maurice" left off, bringing the narrative through the horrors of the First World War, known at that time as the Great War. Di Canzio does a wonderful job taking scraps of information from "Maurice" and creating a new work which expands the original. The result is both delightful and (mostly) believable.
The novel "Maurice" was written as a kind of fantasy, and once I adjusted my expectation to accept that "Alec" was written as an homage, in the same vein, I settled down and enjoyed it more. This novel also brings in historical figures out of Forster's life, such as Edward Carpenter and his working-class partner, George Merrill. In fact, even E.M. Forster himself appears under the name Morgan, which is how he was known.
I should like to point out that when "Maurice" was written Forster was still a virgin. During the Great War, Forster worked at a hospital in Alexandria where the wounded veterans cavorted naked on the beach. This is where Forster had his first experience, and this encounter is incorporated into the novel "Alec" through the character Morgan.
During the reading of "Alec" I watched the 1987 movie version of Maurice, as well as picking up the source novel and dipping into biographies of Forster. All in all, it has been quite the journey, maybe not quite The Longest Journey, but then again, it is not yet over.
4 or 5 stars? Depends on an ever fickle whim. "Consistently fickle" — is that a paradox?
July 30, 2023
'Alec' is okay, but nothing special. The author rewrites the last chapters from 'Maurice' from the perspective of Scudder and then it becomes a conventional First World War novel. I wouldnt read it again, if I knew the results.
March 10, 2022
I was in my mid-twenties when I had the chance to find an out-of-print Brazilian edition of E. M. Forster's Maurice at a second-hand bookstore, and to my amazement, there was also an out-of-print Brazilian edition of a selection of Cavafy's poems. I remember I still pondered if I should buy them both, I was very short on cash, but I couldn't miss such a chance. I yearned for these books! And both showed to be more than I could have expected.
Maurice may be considered a minor work by Forster by some critics, but do I care? Not even a bit. It actually mesmerized me and in some sense, it was epiphanic, even though I had already read some other books on the theme of homosexuality (André Gide, Jean Genet, James Baldwin, David Leavitt, to name a few), yet it was the way Forster dealt with it, Maurice's final speech and his assurance about his reciprocate love for Alec. One must not forget that the novel was written in 1913-1914, though only published posthumously in 1971, less than a year after Forster death, and 4 years after The Sexual Offences Act 1967, which "legalized homosexual acts in England and Wales, on the condition that they were consensual, in private and between two men who had attained the age of 21". This was too late for some men like Alan Turing. And it is quite weird that there was never any explicit ban on homosexual activity between women.
Di Canzio's Alec comes not as a sequel to Maurice, but a book of its own merits. It doesn't try to mimic Forster style, though a part of the book necessarily has to borrow from the prior work. And one must also have in mind that here, Maurice is a secondary character.
If in Maurice we are presented to Alec Scudder when he is introduced in the narrative as Clive Durham's family estate gamekeeper, di Canzio's Alec takes the reader some years back, telling of the young man origins and growing and the natural way he accepts his homosexually in his adolescence, regardless of the fact it was a criminal offense. Having come from a working-class family, and despite being a good student, at 17 he has to take a job as a gamekeeper in order to learn work and have a life of his own. After a year and a half, the property he works at is sold and he is contracted to work at the Durham's. In his spare time, he looks forward to reading poetry and literature, yearning to learn more. Here is where the two books share a bit of the narrative. A bit after Alec accepts his brother's invitation to immigrate to Argentina in order to have a better life, he gets to know Maurice, and the odds are at play.
From then on, di Canzio gives us not only a well-told story, sometimes heart-warming, sometimes heart-wrenching. He also offers us an homage to those who are said to be models after Maurice and Alec: Edward Carpenter and George Merrill, here presented as Ted and George. Siegfried Sassoon is also mentioned in regard to his Finished with the War: A Soldier’s Declaration. The war was responsible for the extermination of almost a whole generation of young men killed in battles for the profit and glory of old men with their stupid speeches and enterprises. And those spared were either handicapped or treated with indifference for their being members of the working class. So, what to fight for when you are treated as a lesser being by your own people who care more about birth status than capabilities? Not to mention the many gay men (and women) who bravely fought, yet were refused the possibility of any consensual relationship between adults of the same sex with the threat of being prosecuted as sex-offender?
The book also touched me deeply on account of Alec's self-acceptance of his sexuality, even if it meant living it on and for his own for the time needed until he could express it. It is not always an easy deal, and many men and women get married in order to have a life they can show as socially acceptable while having extra-marital relations with same-sex partners. It still happens and we know that the moralistic attitudes towards homosexuality are strengthening in a part of the world, even in Europe. Thus, Alec comes in a good moment that it is necessary to remind both younger and mature generations of the trials and difficulties of living a fair and honest life within oneself. Being gay is not an option or a trend; it is part of a person's personality. I could never think otherwise.
Alec also breaks with the difference of classes, he is equal in relation to Maurice, and he demands it; it is not because he is from the working class that he may accept to be treated less. This is defying in the times the story happens, but a relation like the one he and Maurice wished for, there could not be differences. This, in some ways, also defies the tragic vision society has of homoerotic relations.
So, this is a very precious book, not entirely flawless, but again I tell it, that books don't have to be flawless, perfection is not a goal I search for. What I look for in a book is a well-written story, one that may captivate me for its writing, the way an author crafts a story; its ideas; its scenarios and landscapes; etc. In Alec, this is about this young man growing into an adult man conscious of himself, yearning for a life which he knows he can accomplish, regardless of the social, political, and economic prejudices and difficulties along the way. The war chapters are so very fine written and so hard to read through for the pain it causes. And I believe di Canzio leaves an open door to a sequel. Let's wait and see. If it is this good as Alec, then I am in!
Maurice may be considered a minor work by Forster by some critics, but do I care? Not even a bit. It actually mesmerized me and in some sense, it was epiphanic, even though I had already read some other books on the theme of homosexuality (André Gide, Jean Genet, James Baldwin, David Leavitt, to name a few), yet it was the way Forster dealt with it, Maurice's final speech and his assurance about his reciprocate love for Alec. One must not forget that the novel was written in 1913-1914, though only published posthumously in 1971, less than a year after Forster death, and 4 years after The Sexual Offences Act 1967, which "legalized homosexual acts in England and Wales, on the condition that they were consensual, in private and between two men who had attained the age of 21". This was too late for some men like Alan Turing. And it is quite weird that there was never any explicit ban on homosexual activity between women.
Di Canzio's Alec comes not as a sequel to Maurice, but a book of its own merits. It doesn't try to mimic Forster style, though a part of the book necessarily has to borrow from the prior work. And one must also have in mind that here, Maurice is a secondary character.
If in Maurice we are presented to Alec Scudder when he is introduced in the narrative as Clive Durham's family estate gamekeeper, di Canzio's Alec takes the reader some years back, telling of the young man origins and growing and the natural way he accepts his homosexually in his adolescence, regardless of the fact it was a criminal offense. Having come from a working-class family, and despite being a good student, at 17 he has to take a job as a gamekeeper in order to learn work and have a life of his own. After a year and a half, the property he works at is sold and he is contracted to work at the Durham's. In his spare time, he looks forward to reading poetry and literature, yearning to learn more. Here is where the two books share a bit of the narrative. A bit after Alec accepts his brother's invitation to immigrate to Argentina in order to have a better life, he gets to know Maurice, and the odds are at play.
From then on, di Canzio gives us not only a well-told story, sometimes heart-warming, sometimes heart-wrenching. He also offers us an homage to those who are said to be models after Maurice and Alec: Edward Carpenter and George Merrill, here presented as Ted and George. Siegfried Sassoon is also mentioned in regard to his Finished with the War: A Soldier’s Declaration. The war was responsible for the extermination of almost a whole generation of young men killed in battles for the profit and glory of old men with their stupid speeches and enterprises. And those spared were either handicapped or treated with indifference for their being members of the working class. So, what to fight for when you are treated as a lesser being by your own people who care more about birth status than capabilities? Not to mention the many gay men (and women) who bravely fought, yet were refused the possibility of any consensual relationship between adults of the same sex with the threat of being prosecuted as sex-offender?
The book also touched me deeply on account of Alec's self-acceptance of his sexuality, even if it meant living it on and for his own for the time needed until he could express it. It is not always an easy deal, and many men and women get married in order to have a life they can show as socially acceptable while having extra-marital relations with same-sex partners. It still happens and we know that the moralistic attitudes towards homosexuality are strengthening in a part of the world, even in Europe. Thus, Alec comes in a good moment that it is necessary to remind both younger and mature generations of the trials and difficulties of living a fair and honest life within oneself. Being gay is not an option or a trend; it is part of a person's personality. I could never think otherwise.
Alec also breaks with the difference of classes, he is equal in relation to Maurice, and he demands it; it is not because he is from the working class that he may accept to be treated less. This is defying in the times the story happens, but a relation like the one he and Maurice wished for, there could not be differences. This, in some ways, also defies the tragic vision society has of homoerotic relations.
So, this is a very precious book, not entirely flawless, but again I tell it, that books don't have to be flawless, perfection is not a goal I search for. What I look for in a book is a well-written story, one that may captivate me for its writing, the way an author crafts a story; its ideas; its scenarios and landscapes; etc. In Alec, this is about this young man growing into an adult man conscious of himself, yearning for a life which he knows he can accomplish, regardless of the social, political, and economic prejudices and difficulties along the way. The war chapters are so very fine written and so hard to read through for the pain it causes. And I believe di Canzio leaves an open door to a sequel. Let's wait and see. If it is this good as Alec, then I am in!
December 24, 2021
Thank you William di Canzio for this gorgeous gift for fans of E.M. Forster's classic Maurice like myself. It's obvious from page one that this passion project means a lot to the author as it undoubtedly will to the reader. Di Canzio's approach is full of deference, passion and a tender adoration for the source material. Alec was my favorite character in one of my all-time favorite novels so this really felt like a personal piece of fiction that was written specifically for me. I am 100% the target audience for this, so bear that in mind as I gush about how beautiful the experience of reading this delicious treat of a novel was.
This could have been indulgent, derivative or even a parody in less capable hands but Di Canzio's prose mimics Forster's just enough to provide continuity while adding his own original flourishes. Alec is written over a century after its predecessor and yet is able to capture so much of the style and feel of the original while taking full advantage of the modern sexual candor and sensibility that the twenty first century affords it. Make no mistake, this ain't your grandpa's period British romance. Alec is unrestrained in it's sexual freedom and it's a joy to revel in it's liberated abandon. Di Canzio utilizes one hundred years of hindsight to imagine what might have happened after Maurice ends while also reframing the original novel and giving the reader Alec's perspective. I have always preferred working class stories to those of the super rich and have always been more fascinated by the underbelly inner-workings of the Downstairs more than the tip of the iceberg frivolity of the Upstairs. I'm more intrigued by the cogs making the clock tick than its glittery golden face. So Alec's perspective appeals to me much more than Maurice's and I found his version of the events to be refreshing and illuminating in interesting ways. Forster is well-known for his dialogue and Di Canzio emulated the punchy back and forth between the characters with effortless and endearing banter. This actually makes perfect sense when you take the author's background as a playwright and extensive experience in theatre into account.
This theatrical toolbox also provides Di Canzio with a clear gift for great characters. He deftly revives some old favorites from the original novel along with adding fresh, lovable new personalities to the story. I particularly loved Morgan, the Baroness, and Llewellyn. Even some old favorites like Maurice's sister Kitty get fleshed out with new storylines and character development. Of course, Alec and Maurice are the true stars of the story and I love them even more deeply and fully now than I did after reading the first novel. Alec has a refreshing acceptance and ease with his sexuality that contrasts Maurice's stifled and conflicted relationship with his nature in a wonderful and enjoyable way.
The setting starts off much as we have seen in Maurice and, if I'm honest, that was favorite portion of the novel. It makes perfect sense that Di Canzio had to navigate the first World War and the two men's experience of it but I can see why Forster struggled with and ultimately scrapped the continuation of their story once it was clear that the War would have to be addressed. These chapters are written well and include some moving and memorable scenes but Maurice and Alec's story was really one that belonged to the edges of civilization and in the freedom that they found for themselves outside of society.
The ending beautifully expanded the entire narrative (both the original and this one) to include elements that I won't spoil here but that served the overall themes perfectly. I can't say that Alec surpassed the classic source material but it doesn't feel like eclipsing the original was ever Di Canzio's intention. Instead he celebrates the progressive and rebellious hope of Forster's beloved classic and restores it to public consciousness while presenting it's glorious love story in new technicolor brilliance.
This could have been indulgent, derivative or even a parody in less capable hands but Di Canzio's prose mimics Forster's just enough to provide continuity while adding his own original flourishes. Alec is written over a century after its predecessor and yet is able to capture so much of the style and feel of the original while taking full advantage of the modern sexual candor and sensibility that the twenty first century affords it. Make no mistake, this ain't your grandpa's period British romance. Alec is unrestrained in it's sexual freedom and it's a joy to revel in it's liberated abandon. Di Canzio utilizes one hundred years of hindsight to imagine what might have happened after Maurice ends while also reframing the original novel and giving the reader Alec's perspective. I have always preferred working class stories to those of the super rich and have always been more fascinated by the underbelly inner-workings of the Downstairs more than the tip of the iceberg frivolity of the Upstairs. I'm more intrigued by the cogs making the clock tick than its glittery golden face. So Alec's perspective appeals to me much more than Maurice's and I found his version of the events to be refreshing and illuminating in interesting ways. Forster is well-known for his dialogue and Di Canzio emulated the punchy back and forth between the characters with effortless and endearing banter. This actually makes perfect sense when you take the author's background as a playwright and extensive experience in theatre into account.
This theatrical toolbox also provides Di Canzio with a clear gift for great characters. He deftly revives some old favorites from the original novel along with adding fresh, lovable new personalities to the story. I particularly loved Morgan, the Baroness, and Llewellyn. Even some old favorites like Maurice's sister Kitty get fleshed out with new storylines and character development. Of course, Alec and Maurice are the true stars of the story and I love them even more deeply and fully now than I did after reading the first novel. Alec has a refreshing acceptance and ease with his sexuality that contrasts Maurice's stifled and conflicted relationship with his nature in a wonderful and enjoyable way.
The setting starts off much as we have seen in Maurice and, if I'm honest, that was favorite portion of the novel. It makes perfect sense that Di Canzio had to navigate the first World War and the two men's experience of it but I can see why Forster struggled with and ultimately scrapped the continuation of their story once it was clear that the War would have to be addressed. These chapters are written well and include some moving and memorable scenes but Maurice and Alec's story was really one that belonged to the edges of civilization and in the freedom that they found for themselves outside of society.
The ending beautifully expanded the entire narrative (both the original and this one) to include elements that I won't spoil here but that served the overall themes perfectly. I can't say that Alec surpassed the classic source material but it doesn't feel like eclipsing the original was ever Di Canzio's intention. Instead he celebrates the progressive and rebellious hope of Forster's beloved classic and restores it to public consciousness while presenting it's glorious love story in new technicolor brilliance.
December 17, 2023
A beautifully written story of love and war.
July 9, 2021
I was kindly provided with a review copy of the Macmillan Audiobook of this title via NetGalley.com – many thanks. It is wonderfully read by the actor John Sackville, who deftly conveys the plot and rhythm of a new/unknown novel and captures all the voices and accents (not least Alec’s) clearly and without cliché. I would happily listen to Sackville reading Forster’s canon texts.
Alec is the debut novel from William Di Canzio, a Yale-educated US playwright and Creative Writing tutor. It’s pitched by the publishing trade as ‘a reimagining and continuation’ of E.M. Forster’s beautiful, groundbreaking, affirmative gay novel Maurice (which Forster wrote in 1913-14, revised across many decades, and finally agreed could be published, in 1971, after his death), retold from the perspective of the gamekeeper Alec Scudder – the working-class eventual lover, and life partner of Forster’s bourgeois, initially flawed, hero Maurice Hall. Maurice’s struggles, growth and journey to self-knowledge and eventually joyous physical love with Alec form the core of Forster’s short, deceptively simple, deceptively rich, novel. Alec is, quite simply, one of LGBTQ literature and (via James Ivory’s 1987 classic) LGBTQ film’s most beloved characters. In Forster’s novel he’s wonderfully sketched, but minimally written (in part a stylistic decision; in part because the upper-middle-class Forster didn’t get to know Alec and men of his class intimately – sexually and socially – until slightly later). Almost every reader/viewer wonders or ponders what happens next for Maurice and Alec after Forster’s ending, and most crave more of Alec and his story (the Clive stans excepted).
I adore reading literally any extension of Maurice and Alec’s story – and, on paper, Di Canzio’s project to do this from (I had hoped) Alec’s perspective is a wonderful idea. However, it’s important to add that Di Canzio’s effort is not the first. On the contrary, his Alec joins three unofficial Maurice sequels already (self-)published as books (ranging from sophisticated to dire), and a wide field of Maurice fan fiction – much of it outstanding on quality of writing, sensitivity, inventiveness and research, and just a great read. Where Di Canzio’s novel differs is that it’s the first Maurice sequel/reworking to be explicitly approved by Forster’s literary estate (including reusing whole chapters of Forster’s novel), from a prestige publisher, marketed as a Literary Fiction event, endorsed by Forster’s 2010 biographer Wendy Moffat. In his afterword and promo around Alec, Di Canzio writes of his ‘instinct that there was more of the story to tell’ and of ‘the urgency of expanding queer geneaologies’. What’s lacking is the sense that this instinct and endeavour are widely shared and make him part of a community.
So what of the novel itself? I enjoyed Alec – but as summer reading, propelled centrally by plot curiosity, rather than a timeless companion which rewards repeated readings as Forster’s Maurice does. For anyone considering reading Alec, please do read (or re-read) Maurice too. Forster’s novel is 100 pages shorter (incidentally, the Alec hardback is priced higher than hardback 1st Editions of Maurice), and (contrary to some reviews here) quite different in tone and style. Where Forster centres character depth, subjectivity, and fleet, snarky social commentary, Alec is long, linear and story-heavy. Di Canzio writes beautifully, but in a mainstream ‘classical’ style that IMO isn’t particularly Forsterian. The narration is third-person throughout (apart from occasional letters – Alec’s – and short extracts from Maurice’s diary early in the war: I wanted more), and surprisingly thin on dialogue. This might be ‘Alec’s story’ but it’s not told (much) in Alec’s voice.
Di Canzio asserts in his endnote that ‘I know Alec Scudder better than Forster did’, but doesn’t make the case for why – and, of course, the task of writing a working-class queer British Edwardian as an Ivy League American, without depth knowledge of 1910s England, its class system and social attitudes, is fraught with potential pitfalls. To his credit, Di Canzio avoids many of these, but not quite all: there are errors which a copy editor (or historical advisor) should have spotted. For instance, as a working-class British child in the 1890s, there’s no way Alec would have stayed in school after age 14 (regardless of his abilities) or been taught French or Latin. (And it’s unlikely that a male child with parents running a small business, and/or with this education, would be destined for service to the gentry: this needed a narrative explanation.) Michaelmount, where Alec takes up his first position as a servant before Penge, might seem a credible country-house name in the US, but not the UK. Di Canzio randomly gives Alec a Welsh mother (a trope of some US-authored Maurice sequels is that the authors struggle to accept that dark, sexy, non-upper-class Alec is English), who is well-drawn, but the tolerant ‘Welsh Unitarian’ religious background Di Canzio gives her is borderline non-existent. Welsh Methodism is far more likely – and, as anyone who’s seen the film Pride will glean, not reliably gay-friendly. Later, Di Canzio’s (barely altered) version of the British Museum chapter demonstrates that he has no idea how London railway termini work.
The novel’s distracting, improbable ending hinges on an error big enough that I dropped my rating from 4 stars to 3. Having barely introduced Maurice’s family hitherto, Di Canzio closes with a comes-from-nowhere plotline in which Maurice’s sister Kitty is pregnant outside marriage. Aside from the fact that Forster’s own abandoned 1914 Epilogue hints that Kitty might be her brother’s lesbian counterpart, if an ‘Indian Army Officer’ had made Kitty pregnant in 1918-19, when India remained under British colonial rule, he would have been British and white. And, even if Mrs Hall is racist (another random late reveal), ‘N-’ isn’t the slur she would have applied to a half-Indian or Indian child. The period-correct racial slang can be discovered easily enough by reading Forster’s brilliant anti-colonial posthumous queer story ‘The Other Boat’ (in which blond colonial officer Lionel March is engaged in a steamy, far-from-vanilla, affair below deck with the ‘half-caste’ Rikki Moraes, nicknamed Cocoanut, who he has known since childhood).
What did I like? As other reviewers say, Alec’s self-knowledge and affirmative lack of shame about his sexuality are an immense gift to readers. Alec’s early life as a villager in Osmington, Dorset, his early self-realisation of his sexuality and his first sexual experience are credibly imagined and explained, and beautifully written. I particularly loved the episode where the Eugene Sandow-inspired physique contest rocks up in the county town, Dorchester, and teenage Alec sneaks in and gets rather over-excited, with fruitful repercussions later. The later introduction of real-life gay male historical figures from Forster’s circle and time into the story, including an affectionate portrayal of Morgan himself, are well done (though Carpenter and Merrill are treated with more po-faced reverence than Forster would have given them). I was thrilled that Di Canzio treats Forster himself without condescension – in marked contrast with two of the earlier unofficial Mauricesequels – and I cheered aloud that he uses Morgan to refute Lytton Strachey’s (too-often-quoted) diagnosis that Maurice and Alec’s affair was too ‘wobbly’ to last beyond six months. Given how much of the novel is devoted to World War I, Di Canzio could also have introduced Forster’s friend J. R. Ackerley, who served and was wounded on the Western Front. Alec equally isn’t written with any evident awareness of Forster’s early 'Maurice' drafts (where Alec is characterised differently), his wider posthumous queer fiction (see above), or the field of contemporary ‘post-memory’ World War I fiction featuring queer real-life and fictional figures (pre-eminently, Pat Barker’s Regeneration trilogy).
That said, Di Canzio deserves great credit for writing Alec and Maurice into a large-scale, developed, World War I narrative at all rather than evading the issues the Great War presents for all Maurice sequels by finding ruses to get them out of the war. While this will please readers with a taste for World War I narratives, the downside is that the war – and Maurice and Alec’s wartime separation – takes up a third of the novel, while the Forster-canon chapters of their love story take up a further quarter but heavily replicate Forster’s text. (And I found it particularly odd that, in the most pivotal Forster-canon chapters – the British Museum, the hotel – Di Canzio barely works on Forster’s prose, so that Alec’s perspective isn’t really centred as promised.) Most readers will crave and expect more of Alec and Maurice together than we get: i.e. an expanded, extended exploration of their love (and lovemaking), relationship, conflicts, challenges, growth and adventures together, not apart. But the novel’s blow-by-blow linearity and emphasis on story, coincidence and external ‘action’ give the lovers peculiarly little space, and Maurice himself little characterisation (and, at times, random attitudes that don’t seem at all consistent with his development in Forster’s novel). In a final oddity, the only sexually explicit chapter details Alec’s first teenage sexual experience (very well done), but no comparable sexual scenes are written between Maurice and Alec at Penge, the hotel or their later life.
Forster wrote, ‘Two men can defy the world – but, after 350 pages, Di Canzio settles for a less-defiant, weakly justified coda which (like Fred Carrier before him) just sends Maurice and Alec to America. Many versions of Maurice and Alec’s story remain to be told; I really hope Alec will be only the first of many times the Forster estate gives its blessing.
Alec is the debut novel from William Di Canzio, a Yale-educated US playwright and Creative Writing tutor. It’s pitched by the publishing trade as ‘a reimagining and continuation’ of E.M. Forster’s beautiful, groundbreaking, affirmative gay novel Maurice (which Forster wrote in 1913-14, revised across many decades, and finally agreed could be published, in 1971, after his death), retold from the perspective of the gamekeeper Alec Scudder – the working-class eventual lover, and life partner of Forster’s bourgeois, initially flawed, hero Maurice Hall. Maurice’s struggles, growth and journey to self-knowledge and eventually joyous physical love with Alec form the core of Forster’s short, deceptively simple, deceptively rich, novel. Alec is, quite simply, one of LGBTQ literature and (via James Ivory’s 1987 classic) LGBTQ film’s most beloved characters. In Forster’s novel he’s wonderfully sketched, but minimally written (in part a stylistic decision; in part because the upper-middle-class Forster didn’t get to know Alec and men of his class intimately – sexually and socially – until slightly later). Almost every reader/viewer wonders or ponders what happens next for Maurice and Alec after Forster’s ending, and most crave more of Alec and his story (the Clive stans excepted).
I adore reading literally any extension of Maurice and Alec’s story – and, on paper, Di Canzio’s project to do this from (I had hoped) Alec’s perspective is a wonderful idea. However, it’s important to add that Di Canzio’s effort is not the first. On the contrary, his Alec joins three unofficial Maurice sequels already (self-)published as books (ranging from sophisticated to dire), and a wide field of Maurice fan fiction – much of it outstanding on quality of writing, sensitivity, inventiveness and research, and just a great read. Where Di Canzio’s novel differs is that it’s the first Maurice sequel/reworking to be explicitly approved by Forster’s literary estate (including reusing whole chapters of Forster’s novel), from a prestige publisher, marketed as a Literary Fiction event, endorsed by Forster’s 2010 biographer Wendy Moffat. In his afterword and promo around Alec, Di Canzio writes of his ‘instinct that there was more of the story to tell’ and of ‘the urgency of expanding queer geneaologies’. What’s lacking is the sense that this instinct and endeavour are widely shared and make him part of a community.
So what of the novel itself? I enjoyed Alec – but as summer reading, propelled centrally by plot curiosity, rather than a timeless companion which rewards repeated readings as Forster’s Maurice does. For anyone considering reading Alec, please do read (or re-read) Maurice too. Forster’s novel is 100 pages shorter (incidentally, the Alec hardback is priced higher than hardback 1st Editions of Maurice), and (contrary to some reviews here) quite different in tone and style. Where Forster centres character depth, subjectivity, and fleet, snarky social commentary, Alec is long, linear and story-heavy. Di Canzio writes beautifully, but in a mainstream ‘classical’ style that IMO isn’t particularly Forsterian. The narration is third-person throughout (apart from occasional letters – Alec’s – and short extracts from Maurice’s diary early in the war: I wanted more), and surprisingly thin on dialogue. This might be ‘Alec’s story’ but it’s not told (much) in Alec’s voice.
Di Canzio asserts in his endnote that ‘I know Alec Scudder better than Forster did’, but doesn’t make the case for why – and, of course, the task of writing a working-class queer British Edwardian as an Ivy League American, without depth knowledge of 1910s England, its class system and social attitudes, is fraught with potential pitfalls. To his credit, Di Canzio avoids many of these, but not quite all: there are errors which a copy editor (or historical advisor) should have spotted. For instance, as a working-class British child in the 1890s, there’s no way Alec would have stayed in school after age 14 (regardless of his abilities) or been taught French or Latin. (And it’s unlikely that a male child with parents running a small business, and/or with this education, would be destined for service to the gentry: this needed a narrative explanation.) Michaelmount, where Alec takes up his first position as a servant before Penge, might seem a credible country-house name in the US, but not the UK. Di Canzio randomly gives Alec a Welsh mother (a trope of some US-authored Maurice sequels is that the authors struggle to accept that dark, sexy, non-upper-class Alec is English), who is well-drawn, but the tolerant ‘Welsh Unitarian’ religious background Di Canzio gives her is borderline non-existent. Welsh Methodism is far more likely – and, as anyone who’s seen the film Pride will glean, not reliably gay-friendly. Later, Di Canzio’s (barely altered) version of the British Museum chapter demonstrates that he has no idea how London railway termini work.
The novel’s distracting, improbable ending hinges on an error big enough that I dropped my rating from 4 stars to 3. Having barely introduced Maurice’s family hitherto, Di Canzio closes with a comes-from-nowhere plotline in which Maurice’s sister Kitty is pregnant outside marriage. Aside from the fact that Forster’s own abandoned 1914 Epilogue hints that Kitty might be her brother’s lesbian counterpart, if an ‘Indian Army Officer’ had made Kitty pregnant in 1918-19, when India remained under British colonial rule, he would have been British and white. And, even if Mrs Hall is racist (another random late reveal), ‘N-’ isn’t the slur she would have applied to a half-Indian or Indian child. The period-correct racial slang can be discovered easily enough by reading Forster’s brilliant anti-colonial posthumous queer story ‘The Other Boat’ (in which blond colonial officer Lionel March is engaged in a steamy, far-from-vanilla, affair below deck with the ‘half-caste’ Rikki Moraes, nicknamed Cocoanut, who he has known since childhood).
What did I like? As other reviewers say, Alec’s self-knowledge and affirmative lack of shame about his sexuality are an immense gift to readers. Alec’s early life as a villager in Osmington, Dorset, his early self-realisation of his sexuality and his first sexual experience are credibly imagined and explained, and beautifully written. I particularly loved the episode where the Eugene Sandow-inspired physique contest rocks up in the county town, Dorchester, and teenage Alec sneaks in and gets rather over-excited, with fruitful repercussions later. The later introduction of real-life gay male historical figures from Forster’s circle and time into the story, including an affectionate portrayal of Morgan himself, are well done (though Carpenter and Merrill are treated with more po-faced reverence than Forster would have given them). I was thrilled that Di Canzio treats Forster himself without condescension – in marked contrast with two of the earlier unofficial Mauricesequels – and I cheered aloud that he uses Morgan to refute Lytton Strachey’s (too-often-quoted) diagnosis that Maurice and Alec’s affair was too ‘wobbly’ to last beyond six months. Given how much of the novel is devoted to World War I, Di Canzio could also have introduced Forster’s friend J. R. Ackerley, who served and was wounded on the Western Front. Alec equally isn’t written with any evident awareness of Forster’s early 'Maurice' drafts (where Alec is characterised differently), his wider posthumous queer fiction (see above), or the field of contemporary ‘post-memory’ World War I fiction featuring queer real-life and fictional figures (pre-eminently, Pat Barker’s Regeneration trilogy).
That said, Di Canzio deserves great credit for writing Alec and Maurice into a large-scale, developed, World War I narrative at all rather than evading the issues the Great War presents for all Maurice sequels by finding ruses to get them out of the war. While this will please readers with a taste for World War I narratives, the downside is that the war – and Maurice and Alec’s wartime separation – takes up a third of the novel, while the Forster-canon chapters of their love story take up a further quarter but heavily replicate Forster’s text. (And I found it particularly odd that, in the most pivotal Forster-canon chapters – the British Museum, the hotel – Di Canzio barely works on Forster’s prose, so that Alec’s perspective isn’t really centred as promised.) Most readers will crave and expect more of Alec and Maurice together than we get: i.e. an expanded, extended exploration of their love (and lovemaking), relationship, conflicts, challenges, growth and adventures together, not apart. But the novel’s blow-by-blow linearity and emphasis on story, coincidence and external ‘action’ give the lovers peculiarly little space, and Maurice himself little characterisation (and, at times, random attitudes that don’t seem at all consistent with his development in Forster’s novel). In a final oddity, the only sexually explicit chapter details Alec’s first teenage sexual experience (very well done), but no comparable sexual scenes are written between Maurice and Alec at Penge, the hotel or their later life.
Forster wrote, ‘Two men can defy the world – but, after 350 pages, Di Canzio settles for a less-defiant, weakly justified coda which (like Fred Carrier before him) just sends Maurice and Alec to America. Many versions of Maurice and Alec’s story remain to be told; I really hope Alec will be only the first of many times the Forster estate gives its blessing.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 28, 2021
Upon finishing "Maurice", I dove into "Alec". The 1913 style of writing in Maurice was natural per the year it was written. I felt the 2021 publication of "Alec" seemed to have the author work too hard to capture that early 20th century tone.
I greatly liked Maurice and put it into my Favorites. I liked the ending of optimism with an unknown future. It seemed the novel begged for a sequel. But who knew in 1913 that WWI would soon break out. So Alec needed the story-line to have the main characters separated by war.
Thus, the breakdown of this book does not allow these two characters the time together I would have liked:
15% Alec coming of age prior to "Maurice". Alec strongly realizes he is gay.
20% "Maurice" book retold here, with only the Alec pieces. Tough to do. The author got permission to copy text here. It had much plagiarized (appendix states the allowance).
15% Maurice and Alec are together, but they still live in a tangle of both some new acquaintances as well as family and coworkers from "Maurice".
35% War keeps them apart.
15% Reunited and still in love, but not great progress.
This book ends much as Maurice ended: happy for the two of them with an unknown future ahead.
I'm a bit critical of each section:
I could have skipped the first 35%, since to tell early-Alec story forced the Maurice book to be retold. Early-Alec was interesting a bit, but this would have been 1909 territory with some open-topics here that didn't fit the conservatism of Maurice.
The next section (15%) of Maurice and Alec living together had me expecting them to get away from the family/previous-coworkers that had been stifling them - but this did not happen. Their meeting some friends of similar circumstances held promise, but then the war broke out.
This 35% of the book with them separated at war did not allow them to advance together. The graphics of war were not what I wanted here. (Yet I am someone that likes reading WWII books - I just felt this war-action didn't fit the love-tone for this book).
Even the final 15% progressed slowly per both of them having war effects.
What I wanted:
I wished this book would have started where "Maurice" left off. It would be hard to avoid WWI. But I hoped they would have left their homophobic setting from "Maurice" and traveled to another city where the cast from "Maurice" was not present. Let Maurice and Alec really grow as a couple for 1/3 of the book. Maybe another 1/3 book can allow the war to separate them, but with letters of communication and maybe brief get-togethers. Then let the ending 1/3 have them flourish together, vs the rushed feeling of wrapping things up in "Alec".
I think anyone who read Maurice a long time ago might have had no problem with this early part here that re-hashed the Maurice book, bringing the reader up to speed. Indeed, you might even skip "Maurice" and dive right into Alec and have caught the necessary plot pieces. (However, I would think all reviewers have to score Maurice higher than Alec, yes?) My reading of these books back-to-back wanted a TRUE second story in "Alec" - there was just far too much overlap and not enough final progression here.
Final rating: 3.5 but round down. After reading "Maurice" from the library, I'd like to own a copy to read again. I just don't feel the same for "Alec".
I greatly liked Maurice and put it into my Favorites. I liked the ending of optimism with an unknown future. It seemed the novel begged for a sequel. But who knew in 1913 that WWI would soon break out. So Alec needed the story-line to have the main characters separated by war.
Thus, the breakdown of this book does not allow these two characters the time together I would have liked:
15% Alec coming of age prior to "Maurice". Alec strongly realizes he is gay.
20% "Maurice" book retold here, with only the Alec pieces. Tough to do. The author got permission to copy text here. It had much plagiarized (appendix states the allowance).
15% Maurice and Alec are together, but they still live in a tangle of both some new acquaintances as well as family and coworkers from "Maurice".
35% War keeps them apart.
15% Reunited and still in love, but not great progress.
This book ends much as Maurice ended: happy for the two of them with an unknown future ahead.
I'm a bit critical of each section:
I could have skipped the first 35%, since to tell early-Alec story forced the Maurice book to be retold. Early-Alec was interesting a bit, but this would have been 1909 territory with some open-topics here that didn't fit the conservatism of Maurice.
The next section (15%) of Maurice and Alec living together had me expecting them to get away from the family/previous-coworkers that had been stifling them - but this did not happen. Their meeting some friends of similar circumstances held promise, but then the war broke out.
This 35% of the book with them separated at war did not allow them to advance together. The graphics of war were not what I wanted here. (Yet I am someone that likes reading WWII books - I just felt this war-action didn't fit the love-tone for this book).
Even the final 15% progressed slowly per both of them having war effects.
What I wanted:
I wished this book would have started where "Maurice" left off. It would be hard to avoid WWI. But I hoped they would have left their homophobic setting from "Maurice" and traveled to another city where the cast from "Maurice" was not present. Let Maurice and Alec really grow as a couple for 1/3 of the book. Maybe another 1/3 book can allow the war to separate them, but with letters of communication and maybe brief get-togethers. Then let the ending 1/3 have them flourish together, vs the rushed feeling of wrapping things up in "Alec".
I think anyone who read Maurice a long time ago might have had no problem with this early part here that re-hashed the Maurice book, bringing the reader up to speed. Indeed, you might even skip "Maurice" and dive right into Alec and have caught the necessary plot pieces. (However, I would think all reviewers have to score Maurice higher than Alec, yes?) My reading of these books back-to-back wanted a TRUE second story in "Alec" - there was just far too much overlap and not enough final progression here.
Final rating: 3.5 but round down. After reading "Maurice" from the library, I'd like to own a copy to read again. I just don't feel the same for "Alec".
July 15, 2021
4 1/2 stars. WARNING: This is a biased review. I’m a fan of E. M. Forster’s Maurice and James Ivory’s film. This book delves more deeply into the Alec Scudder character from the Maurice book & film. If I didn’t already love the Scudder & Maurice characters this book would probably be a 3 star. I was just very happy to be able to revisit these characters and learn more about them before, during and after the original’s timeline.
November 18, 2021
When the important thing is the two fabulous characters created by EM Forster and their story is developed while remaining faithful to the original work, "Maurice" (1913), for the reader who liked "Maurice", it is the extension of the pleasure of deprivation with the characters for a longer time, to get to know them better and to know more about their future.
The writing is not that of E.M. Forster but I believe that Forster would not write the same way if he lived today. William di Canzio develops a very interesting story, very relevant to homosexuals around the world and where we can find historical and social aspects that, despite dating to the beginning of the century. XX, are very current and are important.
A wonderful read.
Quando o importante são as duas fabulosas personagens criadas por E. M. Forster e a sua história é desenvolvida mantendo-se fiel à obra original, "Maurice" (1913), para o leitor que gostou de "Maurice", é o prolongar do prazer de privar com as personagens por mais tempo, de as conhecer melhor e de saber mais sobre o seu futuro.
A escrita não é a de E. M. Forster mas acredito que Forster não escreveria da mesma forma se vivesse hoje. William di Canzio desenvolve uma história muito interessante, muito relevante para os homossexuais de todo o mundo e onde podemos encontrar aspectos históricos e sociais que, apesar de se datarem ao início do séc. XX, estão muito actuais e são importantes.
Uma belíssima leitura.
The writing is not that of E.M. Forster but I believe that Forster would not write the same way if he lived today. William di Canzio develops a very interesting story, very relevant to homosexuals around the world and where we can find historical and social aspects that, despite dating to the beginning of the century. XX, are very current and are important.
A wonderful read.
Quando o importante são as duas fabulosas personagens criadas por E. M. Forster e a sua história é desenvolvida mantendo-se fiel à obra original, "Maurice" (1913), para o leitor que gostou de "Maurice", é o prolongar do prazer de privar com as personagens por mais tempo, de as conhecer melhor e de saber mais sobre o seu futuro.
A escrita não é a de E. M. Forster mas acredito que Forster não escreveria da mesma forma se vivesse hoje. William di Canzio desenvolve uma história muito interessante, muito relevante para os homossexuais de todo o mundo e onde podemos encontrar aspectos históricos e sociais que, apesar de se datarem ao início do séc. XX, estão muito actuais e são importantes.
Uma belíssima leitura.
January 30, 2022
felt like fanfiction—there were no insights or challenges to forster’s novel. the insertion of forster himself and other gay figures just furthered the self-indulgence of the plot.
i don’t get it. forster himself said he wrote maurice to provide a happy, romantic ending to gay characters at a time when there were none. why—if you’re a fan of him—go out of your way to put both men through copious amounts of trauma in your version?
i guess this would’ve been okay if it hadn’t been widely marketed as literary fiction & i’m glad other people enjoy it.
i don’t get it. forster himself said he wrote maurice to provide a happy, romantic ending to gay characters at a time when there were none. why—if you’re a fan of him—go out of your way to put both men through copious amounts of trauma in your version?
i guess this would’ve been okay if it hadn’t been widely marketed as literary fiction & i’m glad other people enjoy it.
May 2, 2022
I had great reservations about reading this book as the original is one of my favourites of all time. I thought this would amount to little more than Maurice fan fiction, but I’m pleased to say I was wrong. The character of Alec is enriched here, and we also get to see Maurice in an entirely new light as well. Maybe my feelings are coloured by my love of Forster’s work, but it is wonderful to see these characters again.
February 4, 2022
Heartfelt, sexy and luminously written. Read with the deepest of pleasure.
February 27, 2026
'And for the second time in his life, the knowledge of being loved overwhelmed him. The first time, when the kingfisher danced near the boathouse at Penge, the knowledge had washed over him like water, like the rain on the pond, cleansing him of his doubts and freeing him to trust Maurice and to stay in England to make their love real. This second time, in spite of the cottage’s dust and shadow, the knowledge came as light. The light revealed that he was loved to his core, also that he had done nothing to earn or merit such love, but that it was love’s nature to love.'
If the above sounds lovely and decorous, don't be fooled. This is the new sexified 'Wuthering Heights', depraved 'Saltburn', 'Bridgerton' neo-colonialism, and steamy 'Heated Rivalry' approach to fiction (especially titillating gay sex for startled straight people): slather on so much cock sucking and humping, it quickly becomes ridiculous and boring.
Which is a great pity, as there is a great novel lurking between the - what's rhe collective noun for erect penises? - and twisted sheets and bodily fluids. The Gallipoli / Somme sections are the best, equally brutal and tender. Even here, Scudder is plagued by inappropriate hard-ons for his fellow soldiers. And Maurice disappears for this large chunk of the novel, only to pop up at the end as a foil for English virtue and manners.
Apparently di Canzio used direct quotes from Forster's novel and correspondence to, er, flesh out his continuation of the story. I doubt very much if the Great Master would have been familiar with the term precum, among many other jarring idiosyncrasies.
If the above sounds lovely and decorous, don't be fooled. This is the new sexified 'Wuthering Heights', depraved 'Saltburn', 'Bridgerton' neo-colonialism, and steamy 'Heated Rivalry' approach to fiction (especially titillating gay sex for startled straight people): slather on so much cock sucking and humping, it quickly becomes ridiculous and boring.
Which is a great pity, as there is a great novel lurking between the - what's rhe collective noun for erect penises? - and twisted sheets and bodily fluids. The Gallipoli / Somme sections are the best, equally brutal and tender. Even here, Scudder is plagued by inappropriate hard-ons for his fellow soldiers. And Maurice disappears for this large chunk of the novel, only to pop up at the end as a foil for English virtue and manners.
Apparently di Canzio used direct quotes from Forster's novel and correspondence to, er, flesh out his continuation of the story. I doubt very much if the Great Master would have been familiar with the term precum, among many other jarring idiosyncrasies.
August 12, 2022
I never write reviews because I don't want to feel like I have to write a review of every book I read. But this was just too beautiful and moving to not write about. My husband and I both finished this book and cried. We both loved the original Maurice, and even quoted the "we shan't ever be parted" in our wedding vows in 2018, so these characters are special and dear to us - as I'm sure they are to so many readers. Dare I say, this may have been even more moving than Maurice itself. Bravo to William di Canzio for such a tour de force. Alec Scudder was always our favorite character anyway, so to hear the entire story and subsequent future from his point of view, was just lovely. My heart ached the entire time, it was gorgeously romantic.
April 16, 2023
[COMENTÁRIO]
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Alec
William di Canzio
E se 100 anos depois da escrita de um livro, com final bem aberto, alguém decidir escrever um novo livro (uma sequela) que continue a história/trama anterior?
"Alec" de William di Canzio é o exemplo disso. Alec é uma dss personagem principais do meu muito preferido "Maurice" de E. M. Forster. Nesta novela, editada em 2021, di Canzio narra o ponto e vista de Alec - o "namorado" de Maurice - continuando a trama. Se sabemos que aquele amor se constituía naquele tempo como um crime, ou o seu carácter de transgressão de classe social torna mais difícil a continuidade da relação, mas vais ser na rede de amizades que o casal mantém em aberto a possibilidade do amor e da partilha de vida. Muito interessante a importância dada a este aspecto que sabemos é constituivo das identidades e comunidades LGBTI ao longo de todo o século XX. Salientaria o detalhe de, no livro de Di Canzio, Forster aparecer como personagem: é Morgan um dos amigos que protege a relação.
Outro elemento particularmente interessante de "Alec" é o modo como a I Guerra Mundial marca presença na construção narrativa e na dificuldade da vivência deste amor. Ao longo de páginas duras de escrita sobre a violência intensa deste conflito, a personagem Alec incorpora o heroísmo e a resistência que lhe era esperado. Em alguns momentos o livro parece ser um libelo crítico sobre a heroicidade e o militarismo.
Bem a verdade é que foi uma leitura maravilhosa (que tardiamente estou a partilhar convosco) que vos aconselho, especialmente se amaram a leitura de "Maurice".
(li de 02/11/2021 a 06/11/2021)
#livro #literatura #leitor #leitores #leitura #literaturanorteamericana #literaturalgbti #lerLGBTI #lgbti #queer #queerbook #queerliterature
#maurice
#book #bookstagram #bookclub #bookstagramportugal #bookworm #booknerd #booklover
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Alec
William di Canzio
E se 100 anos depois da escrita de um livro, com final bem aberto, alguém decidir escrever um novo livro (uma sequela) que continue a história/trama anterior?
"Alec" de William di Canzio é o exemplo disso. Alec é uma dss personagem principais do meu muito preferido "Maurice" de E. M. Forster. Nesta novela, editada em 2021, di Canzio narra o ponto e vista de Alec - o "namorado" de Maurice - continuando a trama. Se sabemos que aquele amor se constituía naquele tempo como um crime, ou o seu carácter de transgressão de classe social torna mais difícil a continuidade da relação, mas vais ser na rede de amizades que o casal mantém em aberto a possibilidade do amor e da partilha de vida. Muito interessante a importância dada a este aspecto que sabemos é constituivo das identidades e comunidades LGBTI ao longo de todo o século XX. Salientaria o detalhe de, no livro de Di Canzio, Forster aparecer como personagem: é Morgan um dos amigos que protege a relação.
Outro elemento particularmente interessante de "Alec" é o modo como a I Guerra Mundial marca presença na construção narrativa e na dificuldade da vivência deste amor. Ao longo de páginas duras de escrita sobre a violência intensa deste conflito, a personagem Alec incorpora o heroísmo e a resistência que lhe era esperado. Em alguns momentos o livro parece ser um libelo crítico sobre a heroicidade e o militarismo.
Bem a verdade é que foi uma leitura maravilhosa (que tardiamente estou a partilhar convosco) que vos aconselho, especialmente se amaram a leitura de "Maurice".
(li de 02/11/2021 a 06/11/2021)
#livro #literatura #leitor #leitores #leitura #literaturanorteamericana #literaturalgbti #lerLGBTI #lgbti #queer #queerbook #queerliterature
#maurice
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March 27, 2024
Alec
By William di Canzio
Picador, 2021
Five stars
E.M. Forster’s posthumous “Maurice” was an important book to me, and to many gay men of my generation, as was the 1987 film made from it (which made Hugh Grant famous as the beautiful but cowardly Clive Durham). Forster was afraid to publish it in his lifetime, despite (or in fear for) his celebrity status as a great writer. Thus what was his most honest novel appeared in 1971, just four years before I came out while at university.
William di Canzio’s beautiful “Alec,” inspired by “Maurice,” is really the story I and my generation yearned for, presented through Alec Scudder’s life, including the critical chapters when it intersects with Maurice Hall’s visit to Penge with his Cambridge chum Clive Durham.
What di Canzio does so well is capture the tone of Forster’s writing, and the period in which the original book was set—the early 20th century, through the aftermath of World War I (which Forster didn’t have to deal with at all). He borrows crucial passages from Forster, thereby fusing the two stories together. Di Canzio does something else in his book: he inverts the social perspective of E.M. Forster’s voice, letting it all unfold through the eyes of a young, beautiful, smart working-class man from small-town England. The assumption of the charm of the upper classes in Forster’s book is subverted in favor of the pragmatic honesty of Alec’s social stratum. The Scudders have no love of aristocracy, and Alex himself rebels against being “in service” to anyone—even as he is forced to take a job in order to make money and survive. Social class in England is presented as it was, unromantic and surprisingly ugly in its ramifications.
Conversely, Maurice Hall’s world is presented as frustrating (his unsuccessful efforts to woo the class-bound Clive, for whom the crumbling country house and public status matter more than any kind of real love or happiness). Maurice’s upper-middle-class world of gentility and striving affluence is revealed to be steeped in compassionless class-consciousness and racism. The finale of the book zeroes in on this in a way that left me in tears.
The other inversion of expectations is that, in the end, it is Alex who saves Maurice’s life, initially. I love the way both men have to let go of their prejudices and limitations in order to make their own happiness possible. I love the way we see how both Alex and Maurice arrive at the conclusion that their right to feel love means that the rest of the world is wrong. This is what my generation had to do, and not everyone succeeded. I also love the way di Canzio introduces the characters of Ted and George (the historical figures of Edward Carpenter and George Merrill) as role models during an idyllic moment. I love the way di Canzio resists inserting 21st-century notions into the story. This is two men fighting desperately against a world entirely barricaded against them. Ironically, this is also two men willing to fight in a bloody, pointless, idiotic war for a nation that devalues and demonizes people like them. After all, Black men fought in World War II for a country that gave them almost nothing in return.
“Alec” is a lovely, brilliant book. If you haven’t read “Maurice,” read this first, and then read Forster’s book.
By William di Canzio
Picador, 2021
Five stars
E.M. Forster’s posthumous “Maurice” was an important book to me, and to many gay men of my generation, as was the 1987 film made from it (which made Hugh Grant famous as the beautiful but cowardly Clive Durham). Forster was afraid to publish it in his lifetime, despite (or in fear for) his celebrity status as a great writer. Thus what was his most honest novel appeared in 1971, just four years before I came out while at university.
William di Canzio’s beautiful “Alec,” inspired by “Maurice,” is really the story I and my generation yearned for, presented through Alec Scudder’s life, including the critical chapters when it intersects with Maurice Hall’s visit to Penge with his Cambridge chum Clive Durham.
What di Canzio does so well is capture the tone of Forster’s writing, and the period in which the original book was set—the early 20th century, through the aftermath of World War I (which Forster didn’t have to deal with at all). He borrows crucial passages from Forster, thereby fusing the two stories together. Di Canzio does something else in his book: he inverts the social perspective of E.M. Forster’s voice, letting it all unfold through the eyes of a young, beautiful, smart working-class man from small-town England. The assumption of the charm of the upper classes in Forster’s book is subverted in favor of the pragmatic honesty of Alec’s social stratum. The Scudders have no love of aristocracy, and Alex himself rebels against being “in service” to anyone—even as he is forced to take a job in order to make money and survive. Social class in England is presented as it was, unromantic and surprisingly ugly in its ramifications.
Conversely, Maurice Hall’s world is presented as frustrating (his unsuccessful efforts to woo the class-bound Clive, for whom the crumbling country house and public status matter more than any kind of real love or happiness). Maurice’s upper-middle-class world of gentility and striving affluence is revealed to be steeped in compassionless class-consciousness and racism. The finale of the book zeroes in on this in a way that left me in tears.
The other inversion of expectations is that, in the end, it is Alex who saves Maurice’s life, initially. I love the way both men have to let go of their prejudices and limitations in order to make their own happiness possible. I love the way we see how both Alex and Maurice arrive at the conclusion that their right to feel love means that the rest of the world is wrong. This is what my generation had to do, and not everyone succeeded. I also love the way di Canzio introduces the characters of Ted and George (the historical figures of Edward Carpenter and George Merrill) as role models during an idyllic moment. I love the way di Canzio resists inserting 21st-century notions into the story. This is two men fighting desperately against a world entirely barricaded against them. Ironically, this is also two men willing to fight in a bloody, pointless, idiotic war for a nation that devalues and demonizes people like them. After all, Black men fought in World War II for a country that gave them almost nothing in return.
“Alec” is a lovely, brilliant book. If you haven’t read “Maurice,” read this first, and then read Forster’s book.
October 5, 2022
Sou bastante reticente quanto a ideia de continuações apócrifas, ainda mais de um autor mais literário como E. M. Forster. Mas o que William di Canzio faz, com autorização do espólio de Forster, é excelente em sua estrutura, estética e enredo. A ideia de continuar "Maurice" sob a ótica do guarda-caça Alec se mantém fiel à psicologia dos personagens originais, aos temas caros a Forter (a divisão de classes na Inglaterra eduardiana), e às intenções sociopolíticas de sua proposta original (a ousadia de então propor um final feliz).
Uma das maiores dificuldades desse tipo de empreitada é retomar a psicologia dos personagens de modo fiel ao intento original do autor, e isso Di Canzio faz com habilidade. Aqui, a juventude de Alec é contada nos fornecendo uma construção psicológica, social e religiosa adequadas à postura do personagem que, no livro original, soava excessivamente ousada.
Di Canzio está ciente também de que uma das críticas feitas ao romance original (que Roger Ebert repete em sua resenha do filme de James Ivory em 1987), era a suposta implausibilidade na superação da barreira social entre um intelectual burguês e um guarda-caça proletário. Uma vez superada a atração física, o que esses dois teriam para conversar? Uma crítica que sempre pareceu ignorar que o casal Maurice/Alec inspira-se em exemplo real, o casal de ativistas gays Edward Carpenter e George Merryll. Como resposta, Di Canzio insere uma versão ficcional destes dois, na forma de um velho casal de ativistas que acolhem e instruem o casal Maurice/Alec a navegar a sociedade inglesa de então.
Mas é na sua segunda metade que o livro conquista sua individualidade literária, quando temos um eficiente, envolvente e sensível romance sobre a experiência do soldado homossexual na I Guerra Mundial, sem que o drama inerente à isto seja usado como recurso vazio para o sensacionalismo emocional (como fez John Boyne no seu fraco "O Pacifista").
Forster havia escrito um epílogo ao romance original, que acabou descartado, onde Maurice e Alec viveriam como lenhadores no interior da Inglaterra. Di Canzio retoma até mesmo este detalhe, o atualizando para a realidade histórica inglesa: após a I Guerra, quase todas as reservas florestais foram derrubadas para a construção de fábricas de armas (o que me fez pensar em Tolkien), Maurice se vê obrigado a mudar seus planos para o futuro, e Di Canzio encerra a história dos dois de num tom elegante e esperançoso que, acredito, teria agradado à sensibilidade de Forster.
Uma das maiores dificuldades desse tipo de empreitada é retomar a psicologia dos personagens de modo fiel ao intento original do autor, e isso Di Canzio faz com habilidade. Aqui, a juventude de Alec é contada nos fornecendo uma construção psicológica, social e religiosa adequadas à postura do personagem que, no livro original, soava excessivamente ousada.
Di Canzio está ciente também de que uma das críticas feitas ao romance original (que Roger Ebert repete em sua resenha do filme de James Ivory em 1987), era a suposta implausibilidade na superação da barreira social entre um intelectual burguês e um guarda-caça proletário. Uma vez superada a atração física, o que esses dois teriam para conversar? Uma crítica que sempre pareceu ignorar que o casal Maurice/Alec inspira-se em exemplo real, o casal de ativistas gays Edward Carpenter e George Merryll. Como resposta, Di Canzio insere uma versão ficcional destes dois, na forma de um velho casal de ativistas que acolhem e instruem o casal Maurice/Alec a navegar a sociedade inglesa de então.
Mas é na sua segunda metade que o livro conquista sua individualidade literária, quando temos um eficiente, envolvente e sensível romance sobre a experiência do soldado homossexual na I Guerra Mundial, sem que o drama inerente à isto seja usado como recurso vazio para o sensacionalismo emocional (como fez John Boyne no seu fraco "O Pacifista").
Forster havia escrito um epílogo ao romance original, que acabou descartado, onde Maurice e Alec viveriam como lenhadores no interior da Inglaterra. Di Canzio retoma até mesmo este detalhe, o atualizando para a realidade histórica inglesa: após a I Guerra, quase todas as reservas florestais foram derrubadas para a construção de fábricas de armas (o que me fez pensar em Tolkien), Maurice se vê obrigado a mudar seus planos para o futuro, e Di Canzio encerra a história dos dois de num tom elegante e esperançoso que, acredito, teria agradado à sensibilidade de Forster.
August 11, 2024
Rating: 4.5 stars
Alec, William di Canzio's sequel to E.M Forster's Maurice, is beautiful, stays true to the prequel, and expands on the characters's backgrounds, future lives, and experiences during the Great War.
I really loved this book! I thought it was gorgeous, and that it both honoured and paid tribute to Maurice, while also continuing and expanding on Maurice and Alec's story in its own way. Alec, especially, got to be a much more complex and well-rounded character as we got to see his growing up, and get inside his head as the narrator of this book.
Alec is written in a more modern way, and doesn't shy away from sex in the same way Maurice did. However, I still felt like the book continued many of the themes in Maurice, and that it was a beautiful read.
Alec, William di Canzio's sequel to E.M Forster's Maurice, is beautiful, stays true to the prequel, and expands on the characters's backgrounds, future lives, and experiences during the Great War.
I really loved this book! I thought it was gorgeous, and that it both honoured and paid tribute to Maurice, while also continuing and expanding on Maurice and Alec's story in its own way. Alec, especially, got to be a much more complex and well-rounded character as we got to see his growing up, and get inside his head as the narrator of this book.
Alec is written in a more modern way, and doesn't shy away from sex in the same way Maurice did. However, I still felt like the book continued many of the themes in Maurice, and that it was a beautiful read.
July 22, 2022
OMG… I’ve just finished Season 2 of ‘Maurice’! And I loved it! ❤️
Who’s writing Season 3?!
Who’s writing Season 3?!
November 25, 2023
“It was love’s nature to love.” Really a 4.5. A continuation and homage to E.M. Forster’s groundbreaking gay novel Maurice. Beautifully rendered, wonderfully written and both an evocative creation of a time and place, a love that defied the conventions of the time and a testament to the powers of that love. In this novel “Morgan”, a character who is a parallel to Forster himself, laments that gay men’s stories have been expunged and “with no stories, we’re made to feel alone, unnatural, ashamed.” With these characters and this novel, di Canzio brings one of these stories to radiant light.
September 15, 2021
A fantastic imaginative rendition of the love story between Alec Scudder and Maurice Hall extended from the arc of Forster's MAURICE. All the warmth and homosexual ecstasy muted in the original is brought out in vivid colour here, and the result is liberating and gratifying. Really enjoyed it. Also, written with literary flourish and a healthy dose of scandal.
October 23, 2021
4.25/5 There's a nostalgic feel to this novel, especially as it's been several years since I read Maurice. I loved the characters and was thrilled to see them fleshed out even more here. I found their separation by war realistic and heartbreaking.
December 23, 2021
Stunning and beautiful work right here. So glad I read this.
November 30, 2023
I really liked this book. I found much joy in reading the continuation of the love story of Maurice and Alec. This is representation as it should have been and how it should be today. These stories should be told and not removed from history or existence.
October 5, 2023
Alec was exactly the book that I needed to read after an enormous reading slump. The book follows Alec Scudder, love interest of the titular Maurice, from E.M Forster’s novel. I first read Maurice in June 2021 and haven’t stopped thinking about it since, so I was very intrigued to discover this continuation and devoured it immediately.
I think it’s easy to write this concept off as ‘fanfiction’, which I almost did, (not that I don’t embrace fanfiction, but I wouldn’t normally consider it canonical). However, I’m glad that I went in with an open mind. Alec could be read as a stand-alone story if you really wanted to, exploring Scudder’s life before meeting Maurice, throughout the encounters described in Forster’s novel, and the lives of the two characters beyond. I wouldn’t, however, recommend it. If you go into Alec without having read Maurice, you miss just how well di Canzio captures Forster’s style. In fact, if it wasn’t for the more explicit sexual details, it would be difficult to tell where one writer stops and the other begins.
Even as someone who is usually quite prudish when it comes to love scenes in novels, I actually found the comparatively explicit scenes in Alec almost rewarding. They stand as a reminder of how times have changed since Forster wrote Maurice in 1914- using language that Forster couldn’t’ve even fathomed using when writing, even if Maurice remained unpublished until after his death. Reading scenes that were so obscene then, but entirely ordinary today feels triumphant and almost vindicating.
As for the story, I thought it was excellent. I’d immediately warmed to Scudder when reading the original novel, and it was great to learn more about him and his experiences. I recently read Alice Winn’s In Memoriam which details the lives of two young men in love, torn apart when they both go on to fight in the First World War. I thought it was absolutely stunning and deserves all of the praise that it has received. There are some clear similarities between the two stories, so fans of In Memoriam will really enjoy Alec and vice versa. Both are heartbreaking, brutal and passionate.
The inclusion of E.M Forster in the book (as Morgan) was fairly cheesey, though subtle enough as not to effect the story. Rather than just serving the purpose of an Easter egg, I felt that it really shows di Canzio’s respect and admiration of Forster. It is clear that he has an emotional and personal connection to the source material, which so many people do. Forster was so ahead of his time, and his work is so worth falling in love with. It’s nice to see him honoured this way.
***Spoilers***
I really appreciate that the ending of Alec wasn’t tragic, even though it very well could have been, but was still rooted in reality. Alec and Maurice don’t get a fairytale ending, defying the prejudice of the time. Instead, they get to live a simple life together, judged but not persecuted. The little family unit at the end of the book was so endearing and, though the world wasn’t ready to accept Alec, Maurice, Kitty and baby Anjali, the fact that they found happiness in each-other is a small victory.
All in all, a really beautiful book. 5/5
I think it’s easy to write this concept off as ‘fanfiction’, which I almost did, (not that I don’t embrace fanfiction, but I wouldn’t normally consider it canonical). However, I’m glad that I went in with an open mind. Alec could be read as a stand-alone story if you really wanted to, exploring Scudder’s life before meeting Maurice, throughout the encounters described in Forster’s novel, and the lives of the two characters beyond. I wouldn’t, however, recommend it. If you go into Alec without having read Maurice, you miss just how well di Canzio captures Forster’s style. In fact, if it wasn’t for the more explicit sexual details, it would be difficult to tell where one writer stops and the other begins.
Even as someone who is usually quite prudish when it comes to love scenes in novels, I actually found the comparatively explicit scenes in Alec almost rewarding. They stand as a reminder of how times have changed since Forster wrote Maurice in 1914- using language that Forster couldn’t’ve even fathomed using when writing, even if Maurice remained unpublished until after his death. Reading scenes that were so obscene then, but entirely ordinary today feels triumphant and almost vindicating.
As for the story, I thought it was excellent. I’d immediately warmed to Scudder when reading the original novel, and it was great to learn more about him and his experiences. I recently read Alice Winn’s In Memoriam which details the lives of two young men in love, torn apart when they both go on to fight in the First World War. I thought it was absolutely stunning and deserves all of the praise that it has received. There are some clear similarities between the two stories, so fans of In Memoriam will really enjoy Alec and vice versa. Both are heartbreaking, brutal and passionate.
The inclusion of E.M Forster in the book (as Morgan) was fairly cheesey, though subtle enough as not to effect the story. Rather than just serving the purpose of an Easter egg, I felt that it really shows di Canzio’s respect and admiration of Forster. It is clear that he has an emotional and personal connection to the source material, which so many people do. Forster was so ahead of his time, and his work is so worth falling in love with. It’s nice to see him honoured this way.
***Spoilers***
I really appreciate that the ending of Alec wasn’t tragic, even though it very well could have been, but was still rooted in reality. Alec and Maurice don’t get a fairytale ending, defying the prejudice of the time. Instead, they get to live a simple life together, judged but not persecuted. The little family unit at the end of the book was so endearing and, though the world wasn’t ready to accept Alec, Maurice, Kitty and baby Anjali, the fact that they found happiness in each-other is a small victory.
All in all, a really beautiful book. 5/5
April 27, 2025
Such a wonderful and heartfelt homage to one of the classics of queer literature.
I was emotional before even getting to the first page of this book. di Canzio’s dedication and the acknowledgements are so touching and personal. He is a married gay man who holds an esteemed position at a prestigious university, and is able to achieve this kind of success in his field irrespective of his sexuality, something that probably would have felt unfathomable to Forster. di Canzio writes this book, this continuation of one of the first published pieces of gay fiction in the western canon, following in the footsteps of a man who never felt safe enough to come out in his own life, let alone publish his work before he died. My heart.
So from the start, I was invested emotionally. And then remained invested as di Canzio explores Alec’s life and the years that follow Forster’s classic.
Alec dovetails so nicely with the original Maurice. While di Canzio’s own voice and stylistic choices as an author really come through here, he also does an admirable job of emulating Forster’s tone (without the novel reading like a cheap reproduction). The sex and queerness of the story is more up-front, and less coded, which I really appreciate given that Forster’s motivations for self-censorship don’t hold up as strongly in the twenty-first century. The novel also adds so much depth to Forster’s Alec, a character whose behavior was difficult to predict and who originally read more as a foil to Clive than he did a real, fleshed-out individual. This doesn’t read like a text inspired by a previous work, but rather a seamless integration with something that was, unbeknownst to the reader, only ever a half-formed thing.
After World War I, Forster reflected on the direction that his novel had taken, doubting the tenuous future for Maurice and Alec amidst the horrors of war. Speaking of how he sees the timeline of Maurice breaking from reality, he writes that, “[Maurice] belongs to an England where it was still possible to get lost . . . There is no forest or fell to escape to today, no cave in which to curl up, no deserted valley for those who wish neither to reform nor corrupt society but to be left alone.” There is an acknowledgement here that war could not have left these men untouched.
And in di Canzio’s reimagining of this story, it doesn’t, but it also doesn’t twist these characters beyond recognition. This is one of the best war novels that I have ever read, reminiscent in its fragmented and almost dream-like recollections of war of All Quiet on the Western Front. The chapters that shove Maurice and Alec into war are harrowing and beautifully written—they cut deep, in the way that war novels must.
In the end a really beautiful and gentle story (despite that incredibly depressing bit in the middle). A great follow-up for anyone who appreciates Forster’s original novel, and I would highly recommend di Canzio’s understated style to lovers of Elena Ferrante.
I was emotional before even getting to the first page of this book. di Canzio’s dedication and the acknowledgements are so touching and personal. He is a married gay man who holds an esteemed position at a prestigious university, and is able to achieve this kind of success in his field irrespective of his sexuality, something that probably would have felt unfathomable to Forster. di Canzio writes this book, this continuation of one of the first published pieces of gay fiction in the western canon, following in the footsteps of a man who never felt safe enough to come out in his own life, let alone publish his work before he died. My heart.
So from the start, I was invested emotionally. And then remained invested as di Canzio explores Alec’s life and the years that follow Forster’s classic.
Alec dovetails so nicely with the original Maurice. While di Canzio’s own voice and stylistic choices as an author really come through here, he also does an admirable job of emulating Forster’s tone (without the novel reading like a cheap reproduction). The sex and queerness of the story is more up-front, and less coded, which I really appreciate given that Forster’s motivations for self-censorship don’t hold up as strongly in the twenty-first century. The novel also adds so much depth to Forster’s Alec, a character whose behavior was difficult to predict and who originally read more as a foil to Clive than he did a real, fleshed-out individual. This doesn’t read like a text inspired by a previous work, but rather a seamless integration with something that was, unbeknownst to the reader, only ever a half-formed thing.
After World War I, Forster reflected on the direction that his novel had taken, doubting the tenuous future for Maurice and Alec amidst the horrors of war. Speaking of how he sees the timeline of Maurice breaking from reality, he writes that, “[Maurice] belongs to an England where it was still possible to get lost . . . There is no forest or fell to escape to today, no cave in which to curl up, no deserted valley for those who wish neither to reform nor corrupt society but to be left alone.” There is an acknowledgement here that war could not have left these men untouched.
And in di Canzio’s reimagining of this story, it doesn’t, but it also doesn’t twist these characters beyond recognition. This is one of the best war novels that I have ever read, reminiscent in its fragmented and almost dream-like recollections of war of All Quiet on the Western Front. The chapters that shove Maurice and Alec into war are harrowing and beautifully written—they cut deep, in the way that war novels must.
In the end a really beautiful and gentle story (despite that incredibly depressing bit in the middle). A great follow-up for anyone who appreciates Forster’s original novel, and I would highly recommend di Canzio’s understated style to lovers of Elena Ferrante.
March 22, 2022
This book is a fan-fiction of sorts where the author delves into the perspective of Alec, the groundskeeper from E.M. Forster's Maurice and also goes beyond the book, imagining a future for them.
**spoilers strewn about**
I had my doubts when I started this book. The first few chapters are basically a summary of Alec's childhood with not much insight. We are just presented with fact after fact about Alec's life. It does end with Alec's first sexual experience though and I thought this was written well. This trend continues through the book. William di Canzio has a talent for making sexual tension come alive!
The best parts of the book were probably the ones that coincided with Maurice. I discovered later that there were passages here that were taken from the original book itself. Perhaps this is what added to my enjoyment here. The book goes back to the style of the initial pages a bit again after this. There are summaries of happenings and a lot of plot conveniences. It all just felt like tools the author used to project his ideas of how homosexual couples existed in the early 1900s. They might have been true, but they weren't very convincing. The lack of a nuanced portrayal is what cost it. I wish the author had gone into more detail and fleshed them out instead of just presenting us with ideas and characters.
After this we enter World War I era and the book devolves into melodrama. It is well-done in parts. There are some descriptions that stay with you. A lot of it is very contrived too, though. Once again there are a lot of plot conveniences - like a lot of them. Example: Alec gets down at the wrong train station, then decides to go to a random hotel where it just so happens the manager is a gay American willing to help him.
If I had come across this on a site like Wattpad that is filled with fan fiction, I would have been really impressed. This is well-written for a fanfic and has a lot of good ideas. However as an actual book, it needed to be better.
**spoilers strewn about**
I had my doubts when I started this book. The first few chapters are basically a summary of Alec's childhood with not much insight. We are just presented with fact after fact about Alec's life. It does end with Alec's first sexual experience though and I thought this was written well. This trend continues through the book. William di Canzio has a talent for making sexual tension come alive!
The best parts of the book were probably the ones that coincided with Maurice. I discovered later that there were passages here that were taken from the original book itself. Perhaps this is what added to my enjoyment here. The book goes back to the style of the initial pages a bit again after this. There are summaries of happenings and a lot of plot conveniences. It all just felt like tools the author used to project his ideas of how homosexual couples existed in the early 1900s. They might have been true, but they weren't very convincing. The lack of a nuanced portrayal is what cost it. I wish the author had gone into more detail and fleshed them out instead of just presenting us with ideas and characters.
After this we enter World War I era and the book devolves into melodrama. It is well-done in parts. There are some descriptions that stay with you. A lot of it is very contrived too, though. Once again there are a lot of plot conveniences - like a lot of them. Example: Alec gets down at the wrong train station, then decides to go to a random hotel where it just so happens the manager is a gay American willing to help him.
If I had come across this on a site like Wattpad that is filled with fan fiction, I would have been really impressed. This is well-written for a fanfic and has a lot of good ideas. However as an actual book, it needed to be better.
August 15, 2021
I wish I had read E.M. Forster's novel *Maurice* long before this summer. It is a lovely novel and not only an important piece of English literature, but also queer history.
When I started *Maurice* a few weeks ago, I didn't realize William di Canzio had just published an imagined "sequel" called *Alec*. It turned out to be a beautiful follow-up novel and I didn't miss a beat.
While *Maurice*'s focus falls mostly upon Maurice and Clive and the politics of the closet, di Canzio gives the novel's third character his full due. Alec Scudder is certainly an important angle of the original novel's shape---a man unabashedly himself---but in this new novel that importance is savored.
di Canzio has written something sensual and sexy and still true to Forster's vision. I loved how he chose to weave in several lines from *Maurice* word-for-word. What a lovely homage! Fans will delight in this return to beloved characters, but I would encourage new readers to read both novels back-to-back, as I was lucky to do. It is seamless and satisfying!
When I started *Maurice* a few weeks ago, I didn't realize William di Canzio had just published an imagined "sequel" called *Alec*. It turned out to be a beautiful follow-up novel and I didn't miss a beat.
While *Maurice*'s focus falls mostly upon Maurice and Clive and the politics of the closet, di Canzio gives the novel's third character his full due. Alec Scudder is certainly an important angle of the original novel's shape---a man unabashedly himself---but in this new novel that importance is savored.
di Canzio has written something sensual and sexy and still true to Forster's vision. I loved how he chose to weave in several lines from *Maurice* word-for-word. What a lovely homage! Fans will delight in this return to beloved characters, but I would encourage new readers to read both novels back-to-back, as I was lucky to do. It is seamless and satisfying!
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