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A Passage to India

E.M. Forster

3.68 · Rating details · 61,594 ratings · 2,840 reviews

E. M. Forster's exquisitely observed novel about the clash of cultures and the consequences of perception, set in colonial India

Among the greatest novels of the twentieth century and the basis for director David Lean’s Academy Award–winning film, A Passage to India unravels the growing racial tension between Indians, uneasy at best with colonial power, and the British, l ...more

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Paperback, 75th Anniversary, 362 pages

Published by A Harvest Book/Harcourt, Inc. (first published 1924)

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Dec 11, 2014 Jeffrey Keeten rated it really liked it · review of another edition

“Adventures do occur, but not punctually. Life rarely gives us what we want at the moment we consider appropriate.”

Illustrations from the Folio Edition by Ian Ribbons.

Adela Quested and Mrs. Moore have journeyed to India with the intention of arranging a marriage between Adela and Mrs. Moore’s son Ronny Heaslop. He is the British magistrate of the city of Chandrapore. He is imperial, much more so than when Adela knew him in England.

”India had developed sides of his character that she had never ...more

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Jan 18, 2014 Samadrita rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: adoration, timeless-classics, britain, european-literature, racism-slavery-post-colonial, don-t-melt-my-melting-pot, cherished, pg-woes, 1001-and-more, india

Make no mistake. This, to me, will always be Forster's magnum opus even though I am yet to even acquaint myself with the synopses of either Howards End or Maurice. Maybe it is the handicap of my Indian sentimentality that I cannot remedy on whim to fine-tune my capacity for objective assessment. But strip away a colonial India from this layered narrative. Peel away the British Raj too and the concomitant censure that its historical injustices invite. And you will find this to be Forster's unambi Make no mistake. This, to me, will always be Forster's magnum opus even though I am yet to even acquaint myself with the synopses of either Howards End or Maurice. Maybe it is the handicap of my Indian sentimentality that I cannot remedy on whim to fine-tune my capacity for objective assessment. But strip away a colonial India from this layered narrative. Peel away the British Raj too and the concomitant censure that its historical injustices invite. And you will find this to be Forster's unambiguous, lucid vision of humanity languishing in a zone of resentful sociocultural synthesis, his unhesitant condemnation not merely of racism, casteism, religion-ism and what other noxious, vindictive 'ism's we have had throughout the history of our collective existence but of the fatalistic human tendency of rejecting a simple truth in favour of self-justifying contrivances.

Yes there's the much hyped 'crime' analyzed in the broader context of presupposed guilt and innocence . There's the issue of race, class and privilege factoring into the ensuing judicial process. The ripples of the eventual fallout of this mishap disrupt the frail status quo that all parties on either side of the race divide were tacitly maintaining so far and pose crucial existential questions before people of all communities.
Then there are hypocritical Englishmen who cannot choose between preserving the sanctity of the Empire's administrative machinery and upholding their own prejudices. And hypocritical Indians who righteously accuse the Englishmen of institutionalized hatred while stringently maintaining their own brand of intolerance. But greater than the sum of all these thematic veins is the connecting thread of Forster's sure-footed, measured prose which explores not only the inner lives of the central characters but tries to penetrate the heart of a nation-state in the making.

The India depicted here is a foreign country to me - a time and a place yet to be demarcated irreversibly along lines of communal identities that are presently dominating our political rhetoric. It is of little appeal to the newly arrived umpteenth Englishman but, nonetheless, presents itself as an amalgamation of unrealized possibilities. Not once did my brows knit together in frustration on the discovery of any passage or line even casting a whiff of Forster's bias against the people or the land. My senses were stretched taut all the time in an effort to detect any. Sure, Dr. Aziz is a little infantilized and his importance is sometimes reduced to that of a plot device used for manufacturing the central conflict while Adela Quested, Mrs Moore and Mr Fielding appear before a reader as upright individuals who stand for the truth. The other Indian characters seem to be defined by their general pettiness. But these imperfect characterizations can be more than forgiven in the light of what Forster does accomplish.
The song of the future must transcend creed.

There are times when the narrator's voice dissects the drama unfolding against unfamiliar Indian landscapes with a kind of fond exasperation and times when it dissolves into a withering regret for the way the engines of civilization continue to trundle along towards some catastrophic destiny without ever pausing for the purpose of self-assessment. And it is the profound clarity of Forster's worldviews and his sensitivity and forthrightness in deconstructing the enigma of the 'Orient' that elevates his writing even further.

Perhaps life is a mystery, not a muddle; they could not tell. Perhaps the hundred Indias which fuss and squabble so tiresomely are one, and the universe they mirror is one.

It's not the 'handicap of my Indian sentimentality' after all. Forster sought to extract the kernel of truth buried underneath layers of artifice and his craft could successfully flesh out the blank spaces between that which can be expressed with ease. Those are always worthy enough literary achievements in my eyes. ...more

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May 26, 2018 Sean Barrs the Bookdragon rated it it was ok · review of another edition

Shelves: modernist-movement, postcolonial, 2018-10-book-challenge, 2-star-reads

In a rather ironic piece of narration, E.M. Forster sums up my opinion of this book perfectly:

“Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it, and the books and talk that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate, in the hope of justifying their own existence.”

Indeed, this book was so terribly dull. Ordinary, bland and mundane are all words that spring to mind. Nothing happened other than a single piece of melodrama that somehow managed to dominate the boo In a rather ironic piece of narration, E.M. Forster sums up my opinion of this book perfectly:

“Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it, and the books and talk that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate, in the hope of justifying their own existence.”

Indeed, this book was so terribly dull. Ordinary, bland and mundane are all words that spring to mind. Nothing happened other than a single piece of melodrama that somehow managed to dominate the book.

I understand why this book is so widely read and studied. From a critical postcolonial perspective, there are lots of juicy bits in here to dissect. There’s a lot to talk about, and I could easily write an essay on it because it raises so many important debates about race and national identity in the wake of colonialism. Seeing the true face of India becomes a difficult task because it has become so obscured with foreign influence and prejudices.

Indeed, the book is fiercely anti-imperialist and presents a compelling case for the benefits of an independent India. It also highlights the injustices the Indian native faced. Colonial rule is never good, and the coloniser always thinks his ways are better to the detriment of local culture, education and employment. He takes over and ruins everything despite how much he naively believes that he is improving the life of those he is oppressing.

Despite all this the plot has no energy. There were perhaps a few chapters, no more that forty pages or so, where the narrative managed to gain some momentum. The protagonist was imprisoned for a crime he didn’t do and the bits leading up to his trial were quite engaging. When the verdict was eventually reached the rest of the novel dribbled on. There was no story left! Yet it continued for another hundred pages. This meant that for a relatively short book, this felt like a really, really, long book.

This is a book I SHOULD have liked

I was really surprised at my reaction to this. This is a book that appeals directly to my interests; yet, it just seemed so painfully convoluted and dull. I did, however, really appreciate E.M. Forster’s prose. He is a very skilful writer and a wordsmith, his sentences and paragraphs roll into each other perfectly. (This seems like a generic point, though I only make it because the surface level of his writing is so eloquent in places.) It’s just a shame the plot did not carry the same level of mastery. It just needed to be tighter and more focused to be effective.

Like Heart of Darkness it occupies an uncertain place in the cannon of English literature; it’s not quite radical enough (and prejudice free) to be fully anti-colonial yet is still demonstrates the need for change. It’s a book I could study, but never one I could enjoy. Although I didn’t like this, I will still be trying another one of E.M. Forster's novels in the future. ...more

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Apr 06, 2011 William2 rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: uk, 20-ce, fiction

A Passage to India seems a bolder statement on Colonialism and racism than ever. The Indians are thoughtful and droll, speaking about the trouble making friends with Englishmen, who become less personable the longer they are in India. The British seem to a man all about keeping the Indian down, of holding the colony by force. The writing is beautiful. I just finished E.L. Doctorow's The March, which errs on the purplish side at times. There's no such overwriting here. Even when one reads more sl A Passage to India seems a bolder statement on Colonialism and racism than ever. The Indians are thoughtful and droll, speaking about the trouble making friends with Englishmen, who become less personable the longer they are in India. The British seem to a man all about keeping the Indian down, of holding the colony by force. The writing is beautiful. I just finished E.L. Doctorow's The March, which errs on the purplish side at times. There's no such overwriting here. Even when one reads more slowly the prose constantly surprises. And this is my second or third reading, too.

Few books I have found can sustain such interest over the years. Lolita, Madame Bovary, Germinal, they are rare. This time through I find myself astonished by Forster's skill at under-describing his characters. This technique adds to the fleeting, lighter than air aspect of the writing. He'd much rather talk about a gesture, say, or the layout of a house. But the characters are left very flat, if not without description altogether. We must go by their voices. Under-description of this sort was highly recommended by Elmore Leonard, too, in his day. He was another master of it.

Part Two opens with the story of the developing geology the India. Venturing into the Marabar Caves, whose substance is hundreds of millions of years old, is to enter the primordial. It is to be shown something ancient, far outside the mental and emotional scope of homo sapiens, who are no older than 100,000 years, and probably closer to 50,000. Forster's fascination here is with the numinous. Adela and Mrs Moore have since their arrival talked of nothing more than seeing the "real India." In her quest for this passage to India, Adela enters the caves with little knowledge of their history, and there finds herself face to face with the numinous. But in its most primitive essence, which of course includes the erotic, and just like that her heretofore admirable open mindedness is overwhelmed by the true otherness of India. Overwhelmed by fear, she makes an egregious category mistake—a reductio ad absurdum—that upends the lives of all the main characters. An unwarranted charge of attempted rape is lodged against Dr Aziz.

Aziz's arrest reminded of the U.S.'s current epidemic of frightened white cops shooting unarmed black men. These events are equitable only to the extent that both are examples of raw racism run amok. Aziz, however, will get a trial and be acquitted. Our shooting victims will never get that, even posthumously, as we have seen.

The novel is a big nail in the coffin of the Old India Hands. My God, how Forster must have been hated for writing it. How dare he besmirch their generations of "service" in keeping the Indian down. It's a very brave book. Forster indicts his nation in 1924, twenty-three years before Partition. All the insipid reasons for being in India are trotted out and shown to be lies. Britain was not in India to pass down a legacy of democratic administration, that was an unexpected and lucky outcome. It doesn't matter what Niall Ferguson says about the benevolence of the so-called Raj in Empire: The Rise and Demise of the British World Order. This was commercial exploitation at its basest. That the British left slightly fewer corpses in their wake than King Leopold of Belgium did in the Congo is not an argument in their favor.

One final note on this Folio Society edition. It's a beautiful book on acid-free paper with sewn signatures, wonderful to handle. Even turning the pages is a joy. But the illustrations by Glynn Boyd Harte are wretched and annoying. The book is best unadorned. ...more

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Oct 14, 2014 Jan-Maat added it · review of another edition

Shelves: british-isles, india, 20th-century

In a novel with the line “a perfectly adjusted organism would be silent” it is no surprise that the centre of this cloud of writing is the idea of the difficulty, or the possible impossibility of communication and direct connection between people.

Instead understanding has to be intuitive and incommunicable, Mrs Moore knows nothing has happened but can’t convince her son, how she knows or how Professor Godbole knows about her and the wasp is unclear and if we don’t like telepathy as an answer the In a novel with the line “a perfectly adjusted organism would be silent” it is no surprise that the centre of this cloud of writing is the idea of the difficulty, or the possible impossibility of communication and direct connection between people.

Instead understanding has to be intuitive and incommunicable, Mrs Moore knows nothing has happened but can’t convince her son, how she knows or how Professor Godbole knows about her and the wasp is unclear and if we don’t like telepathy as an answer then we are best off not asking the question, just as we are best off not asking what, if anything, happened in the Marabar caves. Miss Quested experienced something, but even E.M. Forster screwed up the draft versions that attempted to give her point of view as that something occurred. A clear statement would run counter to the intuitive direction of this novel. Nothing can make sense in the unreality of our group think, some alternative means of perception, something more (view spoiler) is required to understand.

Miss Quested speaks of wanting to experience the real India, but because she lives, as almost all the characters do, in the world of illusion, her quest will be concluded but the object missed. A failed seeker after the Holy Grail. (view spoiler)

In the beginning “they were discussing as to whether or no it is possible to be friends with an Englishman” (p33) (view spoiler) As evidence of the potential of intimacy: “he has shown me his stamp collection” (p34). I wasn’t expecting Forster to have a sense of humour (view spoiler), nor quite the brutality implicit in Dr Aziz showing the picture of wife to Fielding only for the chest of drawers to be later forced open and that photograph presented in court as evidence of his immoral and degenerate character.

The characters exist very firmly in their environments. The English, at the slightest suggestion that something is not right flip back to 1857, the dominance signalled in 1757 so provisional that everybody has to be continually on watch (view spoiler). There are no innocent conversations. No exchange of views. Every gesture has its own sub-text of resistance and opposition, if one chooses to live on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But this is also unreal or at least only an aspect of reality. Change the air and of a sudden there are “problems so totally different from those of Chandrapore. For here the cleavage was between Brahman and non-Brahman; Moslems and English were quite out of the running, and sometimes not mentioned for days” (p289). The novel doesn’t claim to completeness only to offer up a few shards to work upon the imagination (view spoiler).

Apparently the last two Viceroys of India read this novel. Pushed in conversation Dr Aziz at first looks to the Afghans, for the Mughal Empire to strike back and replace the British, only then to imagine an Indian community as a viable future (view spoiler). Nodding to Benedict Anderson then there is no divide between the realm of the imagination and the realm of tangible reality. The one flows into the other. The boats collide and overturn. Despite the different directions and tools the experience is one. ...more

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Aug 19, 2017 Warwick rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: india, fiction, colonialism, raj

‘The past! the infinite greatness of the past!’ thrilled Walt Whitman in ‘A Passage to India’. A quarter of a century later, Forster borrowed Whitman's title, but with a very different mood in mind. In place of the American's wild-eyed certainties, Forster gives us echoes and confusion; instead of epic quests of the soul, there is only an eternal impasse of personal and cultural misunderstanding.

Animals and birds are half-seen, unidentified; the landscape is a featureless blur; motives are illog ‘The past! the infinite greatness of the past!’ thrilled Walt Whitman in ‘A Passage to India’. A quarter of a century later, Forster borrowed Whitman's title, but with a very different mood in mind. In place of the American's wild-eyed certainties, Forster gives us echoes and confusion; instead of epic quests of the soul, there is only an eternal impasse of personal and cultural misunderstanding.

Animals and birds are half-seen, unidentified; the landscape is a featureless blur; motives are illogical and rest on miscommunication. All human language, in the final analysis, amounts to nothing more than the dull ou-boum thrown back from the Malabar caves during the fateful expedition at the heart of the novel. ‘If one had spoken vileness in that place, or quoted lofty poetry, the comment would have been the same – “ou-boum”.’

Will Self once recommend as an exercise reducing a novel to a single word (he suggested in the case of The Naked Lunch, for instance, that it would be ‘insect’). For A Passage to India, that keyword would be ‘muddle’ – a term that recurs, gradually shedding its cosiness and accreting a sense of existential indistinctness, a kind of cosmic flou that renders good intentions, indeed all human endeavour, futile. ‘I like mysteries,’ says Mrs Moore, the novel's moral core, ‘but I rather dislike muddles.’ Elsewhere, Forster talks with something like dread of a ‘spiritual muddledom’ for which ‘no high-sounding words can be found’.

The plot of this book is, at times, heart-poundingly dramatic, but Forster is careful to make sure that even this is founded on doubt and indecision. In fact, what one thinks of as ‘the plot’ of A Passage to India is a storyline that arises, reaches its climax, and is resolved entirely within the second of the book's three acts. What then, you might ask, is the point of parts one and three? Well, among other things they prevent the plot from seeming too tidy – there is always something before the beginning, something after the end, to frustrate neat conclusions. ‘Adventures do occur,’ he says, ‘but not punctually.’ Life isn't tidy – it's a muddle.

British India is a perfect setting for this kind of exploration: not only does it play host to numerous individual confusions, it is itself, as it were, the political embodiment of such a confusion. One of the wonderful things about this book is that the obvious hypocrisy and conflict between the English and the Indians is not left to stand alone, as a heavy-handed message, but is echoed by similar divisions between Muslim and Hindu, man and woman, young and old, devotee and atheist. Still, it is the gulf of understanding between the British rulers and their Indian subjects that provides the most interesting material for Forster's bitter social comedy. Most of the Brits are deliciously dislikable, couching their racism in patriotic slogans, droning through the national anthem every evening at the Club, and – like one of the wives – learning only enough of the language to speak to the servants (‘so she knew none of the politer forms, and of the verbs only the imperative mood’).

The heroes of this book are those that try to reach across this divide, or to challenge the assumptions of their own side.

‘Your sentiments are those of a god,’ she said quietly, but it was his manner rather than his sentiments that annoyed her.

Trying to recover his temper, he said, ‘India likes gods.’

‘And Englishmen like posing as gods.’

These attempts don't work, and the reason they don't work is that cultural or racial divides are – the book suggests – only a special case of that ‘spiritual muddledom’ that is a universal constant. Still, the worldview isn't as bleak as it might seem. That famous ‘not yet’ in the book's closing lines is a lot more hopeful than a ‘no’, and if we're prevented from coming together by our tangled and violent past, that also raises the possibility that a better future can be laid down by the present we choose to enact now, every day, with each other. ‘For what is the present, after all,’ as Walt Whitman asked, ‘but a growth out of the past?’ ...more

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Jul 28, 2016 Henry Avila rated it really liked it

Adela Quested, a plain looking, young , affable, and naive English school teacher, travels to distant India in the early 1920's, accompanied by the elderly , kind, Mrs. Moore, (maybe her future mother-in-law) a widow twice, and see the real country, more important, to decide if she will marry Mrs. Moore's son, the magistrate, of the unimportant city of Chandrapore, disillusioned Ronny Heaslop ( he dislikes Indians now)...Conditions are very uneasy in India, the natives hate the British rulers, a Adela Quested, a plain looking, young , affable, and naive English school teacher, travels to distant India in the early 1920's, accompanied by the elderly , kind, Mrs. Moore, (maybe her future mother-in-law) a widow twice, and see the real country, more important, to decide if she will marry Mrs. Moore's son, the magistrate, of the unimportant city of Chandrapore, disillusioned Ronny Heaslop ( he dislikes Indians now)...Conditions are very uneasy in India, the natives hate the British rulers, and seek independence, and in turn the conquerors, despise what they perceive as an inferior, local race, besides the Hindu and Muslim populations are always ready to riot against their enemies, foreign and domestic, the tense, volatile situation needs the strong hand of the British army to keep peace, but for how long ? Mrs. Moore, like her female companion, Adela, wants to see and feel India, experience its atmosphere, no matter how alien, breathe in the romantic flavors, customs and particularly, the strange, exotic, mysterious and nevertheless engaging people, of this dangerous but fascinating nation. Warned not to go alone , the old lady, does, visits a mosque, and hears a voice in the dark, telling her to take off her shoes, she had, by Dr. Aziz, a young Indian, Muslim physician, ignorant foreigners, in the past, had shown disrespect, unexpectedly, they later become great friends, the two so completely different... Cyril Fielding, the head of the modest local college, is the only British man to show any sympathy for the poor, native people, he hates how they are treated, the Indians, especially the English women, who do not hide their contempt . Yet can friendships develop and last, between the Indian and the British, in the colonial era, such as the emotional Dr. Aziz and the calm Mr.Fielding ? There is not much to see in the unattractive, dirty city, no spectacular monuments, or building, nothing, the Ganges River flows leisurely by, not causing any impact, mostly ignored by the population, it isn't sacred here, occasionally a dead body is spotted, not devoured by the crocodiles, as it floats down to the ocean...In the local British Club, no Indian members of course, they gossip, drink, play cards and the highlight, tennis, when the notorious weather permits, scorching heat waves that crush the spirit, and monsoon rains pouring ceaselessly down, causing widespread, devastating flooding. Still twenty miles away , in the Marabar Hills, are countless caves to explore, nobody knows what makes them exciting though, the areas only attraction, a tour is organized and led by Dr.Aziz, composed also of Mrs.Moore, Miss Quested, Mr.Fielding, and prominent Indians, both Hindu and Muslims, but plans are not facts, they do not go accordingly, a disaster ensues which will effect many people, lives are changed...A very interesting exploration of India, during an unique period in its history, that even today is still relevant, to her destination as a rising superpower, both economically and militarily...Yes things change... ...more

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May 27, 2011 Fionnuala added it · review of another edition

Shelves: forster

So easy going - and then wham!
Quentin Tarantino could learn a lot from E M Forster. He'd learn that there's no need to pile on the menace in the early stages. The shock, when it comes is much more effective if the reader/viewer has been led into thinking all is ordinary and relatively safe. Forster is a master story teller, and a true philosopher as well.

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Feb 12, 2019 Piyangie rated it liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: brit-lit, own-library

A Passage to India is set in the time the British ruled India. Forster wrote this book after visiting India and having first hand seen the real relationship of the ruling British and the ruled natives. Since he had personal experience, it was easy for him to paint a true and accurate picture of how the British administrators governed the natives. First and foremost, Forster saw it was to be oppressive; he was not happy with the way the natives were treated. He observed a difference in the Brit A Passage to India is set in the time the British ruled India. Forster wrote this book after visiting India and having first hand seen the real relationship of the ruling British and the ruled natives. Since he had personal experience, it was easy for him to paint a true and accurate picture of how the British administrators governed the natives. First and foremost, Forster saw it was to be oppressive; he was not happy with the way the natives were treated. He observed a difference in the British who ruled India on behalf of the British Crown and couldn't comprehend how the liberal minded youth who were full of goodwill toward the native brethren became hard conservatives once in India in official capacity. He also observed that when the Indians live in British soil the personal relations between the two races were on friendly grounds; but in Indian soil, the relationship between the two races were strained with distrust and hostility. All his observations and his personal views over them led him in producing one of the best written fictions on East and West.

The cultural and religious difference between the two races was, according to Forster, the main impediment for closer relations. The different cultures have different manners and different ways of lives. They cannot be compared with one another to determine which is more superior. They are just different. If one culture tries and acts superior, then hostility is the inevitable result. This was the major mistake the British administrators did. From their point of view the natives were "uncivilized"; and they wanted to make them "civilized". By trying to make them "civilized", the British were imposing their culture and their way of life on the natives. They were of the view that what Indians needed were justice, discipline and peace. There they made the mistake, for the natives greatly resented this. What they really wanted was the British to understand, accept and respect their culture, their religion and their way of life. To be treated as a nonentity in your own country is a painful experience. Every race has their pride and wounded pride can lead to calamities. Failure to understand this was the key to hostility between the ruling and the ruled.

On the other hand, Forster doesn't defend the natives either. He exposes their weakness, their flaws and their hypocrisies which made me ponder that after all we should view all these actions from pure human perspective. Irrespective of the difference in race, ethnicity, culture and religion, we are all human and as humans we do have inherent flaws; and if we want to live harmoniously and with peaceful human relations, we have to check our flaws and be kind and tolerant towards others.

The story through which Forster says it all is good but not great. The first part of this three part story was so slow that my first impression was that I would not be able to push it through. I love Forster's writing. It is absolutely beautiful. And that is what held the thread for me without breaking. But I admit that it was very trying. In part two, the story picks up the pace and although I still struggled through some of the chapters, the reading experience became much more pleasing.

Forster had chosen a good set of characters to set out the story. Although I didn't like many of the characters (except Mr. Fielding who I personally thought resemble the author) they essentially contributed well to his story. I feel that it never crosses Forster's mind that the reader should like his characters. I think he is more concerned that we understand them rather than like them.

Before I end the review I would like to share a conversation in the story that really struck me hard. During this conversation, Dr. Aziz tells Mr. Fielding that once they become free of British rule that they can be fully friends. That was the most thought provoking sentence of the entire book. Although he cannot hear me, I just wanted to shout out and tell him "Well done, Forster!" ...more

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Feb 08, 2017 Chrissie rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: hf, india, 2017-read, classics, audible-uk

This is so far my favorite book by E.M. Forster. I tried A Room with a View first and gave that three stars. This one, set in India probably about a decade or two before independence, mirrors British colonialism and the multicultural diversity of the land. This one has much more meat on its bones. Religion, multi-ethnicity, colonialism, imperialism, the dogged belief in the superiority of the rulers over the ruled and most specifically how very difficult it is to communicate over cultural barrie ...more

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Jul 12, 2011 Shovelmonkey1 rated it it was ok · review of another edition

Recommends it for: people looking for literary nytol

Recommended to Shovelmonkey1 by: 1001 books list

Shelves: india, bookcrossing-books, epic-snooze-fest, 1001-books

Written in 1924 this so called literary classic and 1001 book is set against the backdrop of the British Raj and the slow move towards Independence. This book has been showered with awards - I gave my copy of a good shake just to see if any of the awards had got stuck between the pages - although personally the only award I would be inclined to hand out for E.M Forster's most famous novel would be the highly coveted shovelmonkey1 pillow award for producing an epic snooze fest.

I read this book w ...more

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Nov 19, 2014 Carol rated it it was ok

Shelves: buddy-read-jean, classics, buddy-read-susan, read-2015, cultural-india

This tediously long 362 page story set in a 1924 British ruled India begins when an "old" (twice married) Mrs. Moore brings a plain freckled-faced Adela Quested on a visit to meet her son Ronny Heaslop, the City Magistrate, with hopes of marriage. Mrs. Moore soon befriends a local Indian and Surgeon, Dr. Aziz (view spoiler) causing a political uproar.

At this point in the novel.....a little over 160 page

...more

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Feb 06, 2013 Megan Baxter rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Can there ever be friendship between the colonizer and colonized? Individuals from each group? Can that trust last? Can it flourish? What happens when events put it under stress?

Forster has no easy answers in this book, as he dissects British colonial rule in India, and its impact on Indians and the British who have come there expressly to rule over India.

Note: The rest of this review has been withdrawn due to the recent changes in Goodreads policy and enforcement. You can read why I came to th ...more

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Jul 27, 2017 Gabrielle rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: classics, own-a-copy, read-in-2017, cultural-shock, reviewed, movie-fodder, uk

The more I explore E.M. Forster’s books, the more I come to realize that he was a man who held very unconventional views for his days. In “A Room with a View”, he discussed the independence of spirit of women, in “Howards’ End”, the subtle ways the class division separates people and in “A Passage to India”, he expresses very anti-colonialist views about what was once the jewel of the crown: British-occupied India.

Racial tensions and prejudices turn a misunderstanding into quite a drama. The por The more I explore E.M. Forster’s books, the more I come to realize that he was a man who held very unconventional views for his days. In “A Room with a View”, he discussed the independence of spirit of women, in “Howards’ End”, the subtle ways the class division separates people and in “A Passage to India”, he expresses very anti-colonialist views about what was once the jewel of the crown: British-occupied India.

Racial tensions and prejudices turn a misunderstanding into quite a drama. The portrait Forster paints of the British occupants is very far from flattering: they consider the natives to be inferior in every way, often can’t be bothered to be civil to them and easily blame them for anything not going as smoothly as they wished, even when they are very obviously the ones at fault. The Indians in turn view the English as untrustworthy – except of course for those who seek to emulate them in every way. These combined attitudes reinforce many levels of animosity between races, religions and castes. Loyalty and justice are not easily defined for those living in this strange setting, and this further muddles the water.

After just a few pages, I knew that Aziz would get himself in trouble: he is just too candid and honest to play the hypocritical social game required to stay on the good side of the British. No one directly accuses him of anything, but people assume right off the bat that he has done something wrong, that like all members of his race, he is deviant and has a natural inclination towards criminal activities. A strange series of event makes him look guiltier and brings to the surface a lot of anger and resentment that proper social behavior had simply concealed under the surface. And the end result of that is the amplification of the negative prejudices both sides have towards each other. It is so easy to say – out of innocent ignorance – something that will be interpreted as appalling to the other side, but if there is no sensible and open dialogue, there is no resolution.

Forster went to India twice, and wrote this book soon after returning to England. Obviously, the experience had not been a positive one, and the racist attitudes of his compatriots disgusted him. But the novel is not didactic: the complexity of the situation is described in great details, to really convey to the reader that no easy solution can reconcile the politics of colonialism and personal relationship between diverse groups. Tensions are unavoidable, as are disagreement, but without openness and compassion, the conflict will remain irreconcilable.

The cultural differences in this book feel impossible to overcome because of power dynamics, but it is interesting to note that the different groups of Indians are just as virulent in their opposition to each other as the British are towards them. I was worried at first that this would be a Rousseauist story about noble savages and big bad white dudes, but Forster does not idealize the Indians and demonize the British; he simply shows that all humans are flawed despite their best intentions. He also makes clear that some of his characters’ attitude do not come from ingrained prejudices, but from parroting the hateful nonsense spewed by their superiors. By simply emulating senior officers, Mr. Heaslop doesn’t have to think too much about his direct experience of India, but he unwittingly propagates the disdainful attitudes of the racists at the top.

I’m from a corner of the world where there is a linguistic divide: English-speakers and French-speakers have been (metaphorically and literally) at each other’s throat for about 300 years and despite the historical rearview mirror, people still feed each other’s prejudices by generalizing intolerant attitudes and accusing each other of cultural colonialism with the only result of driving a wedge between perfectly decent people who just can’t give up this idea of colonial oppression. “A Passage to India” echoed this strange contemporary dynamic, and also made me think of the racial profiling police forces can’t seem to help in the United-States. Some things are very hard to overcome, and institutionalized hatred is certainly one of them.

Forster’s humanist views are expressed with great sensibility and intelligence in all of his books. His prose is beautiful and takes you right to this exotic setting that you discover along with Miss Quested and Mrs. Moore. You will turn the last page and think about it for a long time. I gave it four stars simply because as interesting and well-written a book as it is, I did not enjoy it as much as “Howards End” or “A Room with a View”: maybe because the subject matter, while important, is a lot less pleasant, or maybe because I couldn’t get attached to any characters the way I did to Lucy or Margaret. In other words, this is a wonderful book that touched me less personally than Mr. Forster’s other works. ...more

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Nov 01, 2012 Kim rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: audiobook

In some ways it's hard to believe that this was published in 1924, given the prescience Forster demonstrates in relation to the future of the British Raj. Towards the end of the novel, one of the central characters, Dr Aziz, effectively predicts that Indians will throw out the British when England is is involved in another war in Europe and articulates - albeit not in so many words - the need for Indians to identify as Indians rather than as members of their individual religious communities in o
In some ways it's hard to believe that this was published in 1924, given the prescience Forster demonstrates in relation to the future of the British Raj. Towards the end of the novel, one of the central characters, Dr Aziz, effectively predicts that Indians will throw out the British when England is is involved in another war in Europe and articulates - albeit not in so many words - the need for Indians to identify as Indians rather than as members of their individual religious communities in order for that happen.

This is a story of the distrust and misunderstanding inherent in the relationship between colonisers and the colonised and poses the question of whether cultural differences can be overcome to find real friendship and understanding. It centres on the consequences of an incident in which a young English woman, Adela Quested, accuses the Indian Dr Aziz of assaulting her during an excursion to the Marabar Caves.

Forster's portrayal of the British colonial rulers is trenchantly critical. He exposes their hypocrisy, their fundamental fear of Indians and their desperation to retain control. While Forster's portrayal of Indian characters is largely - although not completely - sympathetic, he was a still a man of his time and there are some aspects of his portrayal of Indian characters which a contemporary reader is likely to find patronising.

Forster evokes a sense of time and place in beautiful prose and he provides plenty of food for thought. That said, there were times when the narrative seemed to meander and I wasn't always sure where Forster was going with it. This is one of those books I'm glad I listened to rather than read, because it allowed me to complete productive tasks while listening to those few parts of the novel which I might otherwise have skimmed. I knew that Sam Dastor's voices for both the English and the Indian characters would be excellent, having listened to his narration of Kipling's Kim. However, the downside of listening to Dastor is that he does not do female voices well. This wasn't an issue with Kim, because it contains no female characters to speak of, but Miss Quested is a central character in this novel and Dastor's voice for her is simply awful. I enjoyed listening much more when Miss Quested wasn't around.

The only other of Forster's novels I've read is A Room with a View, which I love. This one I like a little less. But I'm very glad that I finally tackled it and I don't know why it took me so long to do so.

...more

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Apr 03, 2014 Barbara rated it liked it · review of another edition

This book is a classic, but its motifs of culture clash and racialism strike an unfortunate chord in current times.

*****

The plot revolves around an Englishwoman who wrongly accuses a Muslim Indian doctor of attempting to assault her while they're visiting mystical Indian caves. Set in a time when the British controlled India, the book has several sub-themes.

One is the condescending attitude and behavior of the Brits toward the Indian people and the consequent mistrust and dislike the Indians f ...more

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Sep 12, 2013 Madeline rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: the-list

"The sky settles everything - not only climates and seasons but when the earth shall be beautiful. By herself she can do little - only feeble outbursts of flowers. But when the sky chooses, glory can rain into the Chandrapore bazaars or a benediction pass from horizon to horizon. The sky can do this because it is so strong and so enormous. Strength comes from the sun, infused in it daily; size from the prostrate earth. No mountains infringe on the curve. League after league the earth lies flat, "The sky settles everything - not only climates and seasons but when the earth shall be beautiful. By herself she can do little - only feeble outbursts of flowers. But when the sky chooses, glory can rain into the Chandrapore bazaars or a benediction pass from horizon to horizon. The sky can do this because it is so strong and so enormous. Strength comes from the sun, infused in it daily; size from the prostrate earth. No mountains infringe on the curve. League after league the earth lies flat, heaves a little, is flat again. Only in the south, where a group of fists and fingers are thrust up through the soil, is the endless expanse interrupted. These fists and fingers are the Marabar Hills, containing the extraordinary caves."

Taking place in the waning years of British rule in India (although Forster, writing the book in 1924, could not have know that India would become independent in less than twenty-five years), A Passage to India is, at the surface, the story of a misunderstanding and its long-ranging consequences. But that's only the barest plot description. The book is an exploration of the relationship between oppressor and oppressed, human imperfections and mistakes, and whether friendship can ever exist between the colonizer and the colonized. It's also a thoughtful and powerful critique of the British presence in India, which Forster shows us by shrinking the conflict to a handful of people.

Our main characters are Dr. Aziz, a native Muslim; Mr. Fielding, a British teacher who has not yet become one of the "Anglo-Indians"; and Mrs. Moore and Miss Quested, fresh off the boat from England. Miss Quested is in India to marry Mrs. Moore's son, and both women express an interest in seeing "the real India." Mrs. Moore befriends Dr. Aziz when she meets him in a mosque, and this leads to a friendship between her, Aziz, Miss Quested, and Fielding. After the women express an interest in seeing the Marabar caves, Dr. Aziz offers to be their guide. (The trip doesn't occur until halfway through the book, but the caves are a constant presence in the story, always looming somewhat menacingly in the background) While Aziz is at the caves with the women, an incident occurs, and due to a misunderstanding, Aziz finds himself accused by Miss Quested. An unfortunate series of events makes him seem guiltier than he is, and he is arrested. Miss Quested's accusation, and the sides the characters take in the ensuing trial, bring long-standing resentments and issues bubbling to the surface, and no one gets out unscathed.

This was the second Forster book I've read, and I enjoyed it more than A Room With A View. The latter didn't really grab me until about a hundred pages in, but this had me enthralled from the beginning. I loved Forster's beautiful descriptions of India, his look into people's minds, and the fact that a British author could write such a blistering portrayal of colonization. Better yet, he doesn't simply villify the English and idealize the Indians - everyone is flawed here, but no one is outwardly evil. Characters are all well-intentioned, but not always sympathetic. And once Aziz is arrested, Forster's description of the panic that grips the British is evocative and sadly familiar to 21st-century readers:

"They had started speaking of 'women and children' - that phrase that exempts the male from sanity when it has been repeated a few times. Each felt that all he loved best in the world was at stake, demanded revenge, and was filled with a not-unpleasing glow, in which the chilly and half-known features of Miss Quested vanished, and were replaced by all that is sweetest and warmest in the private life." ...more

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Jun 22, 2016 Jason rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

The India of Forster’s imagination is a vast, incoherent land of hostile earth and oppressive air; the weather, inhospitable to human life; the sun, a burning, penetrating force that crushes the soul; in the distance, sand, fields, bushes, more sand, more bushes, all indecipherable, all impenetrable to human reason. The mind boggles at the immensity and confusion of India, at the distant mountains, at the strange religions, at the endless tracts of land blending with the gray and threatening sky The India of Forster’s imagination is a vast, incoherent land of hostile earth and oppressive air; the weather, inhospitable to human life; the sun, a burning, penetrating force that crushes the soul; in the distance, sand, fields, bushes, more sand, more bushes, all indecipherable, all impenetrable to human reason. The mind boggles at the immensity and confusion of India, at the distant mountains, at the strange religions, at the endless tracts of land blending with the gray and threatening sky. This is a landscape of dreams and terrors. It is unreal, but not romantic - a land of deceit, irrationality, vague but persistent danger. Tempted here by mirages, the British have built their colony on a foundation of sand and it must soon crumble. But behind these fragments of visions, shimmering in the background as if through a hazy gauze at a glimpse at the true, permanent world, lie the Marabar Caves. They are present, but shadowy, just out of reach. What is inside those caves? The answer? The soul of India itself? Or something else? Why do the caves remain in the mind like an echo, as they do to poor Adela? I am haunted by the Marabar Caves, as Adela was haunted by them, as Mrs. Moore was haunted by them. They expand in my imagination, they beckon and seem to explain, and yet I cannot enter. The cavern dims and darkens as it curves away into the mountain, beyond my ken. The Marabar Caves are the key to the meaning of this novel, just as their counterpart in our collective unconscious is the key to understanding human existence, but that key, like the rest of India, is beyond my understanding.

What Forster has achieved here is a brilliant evocation of India as conjured by the hopes and fears of the British imagination. It is one of the most striking environments I have ever encountered in a novel. It seems to embody everything that Britain opposes - emotion, chaos, incomprehensibility - in contrast to Britain's self-perception of orderliness, control, reason, and duty. It is a canvas on which the English mind can display its deepest anxieties. Forster captures those anxieties with uncommon force. And, to play on that wondrous stage, Forster has supplied an equally stellar cast of characters, to enact the greater drama of the British Raj's influence on the people of both England and India. Dr. Aziz is amiable and proud, and deeply invested in ingratiating himself to his British masters, but he is also self-conscious and anxious. He reaches heights of happiness and expectation and then plunges into anger and resentment, all within a matter of moments, a product of having assimilated the slave mentality, which affects his every move and thought. Fielding is the Principal of a British school in India, benevolent, rational, without family ties, and desirous to befriend Aziz to separate himself from what he perceives to be the racism and ignorance of his fellow countrymen. He wants to prove he can be friends with an Indian. Dr. Aziz wants to prove he can be friends with a Brit. The relationship they form is remarkable for its subtlety and its truthfulness, and remains surprising right to the end of the novel. Then there’s Adela, who accuses Aziz of attacking her in the Marabar cave, but we know this isn't true. Something else happened. But what? And Ronny, her fiancee, is the casually pompous British Magistrate of the city of Chandrapore who would like nothing better than to have all these Indians whipped. And then there’s Mrs. Moore, Adela’s traveling companion, who is utterly destroyed by her own experience in the Caves. I loved Mrs. Moore. Her transformation after the caves is devastating. And I felt for Adela. On the stand, at the trial, she does a selfless and honourable thing, and it made me so glad. Dr. Aziz's transformation after the trial is unspeakably sad, but absolutely realistic. I despised Ronny, but ultimately pitied him, for how can he be expected to escape the social and political forces that forged him? See? These people were real to me. They are fascinating, believable, unforgettable.

The prose of this novel is scintillating. It is intensely ironic in tone, and satirical, but it also has a strangely suggestive side, enigmatic, mysterious, hinting at things unsaid that stick into the mind like an icicle, or opening vistas of possibility one can only see as through a haze. It weaves in and out of these modes with an astounding level of finesse and control, from satirical to funny to poetic and back again, insinuating secrets, dancing impishly, but never allowing us to forget, not for long, the mystery at the center of all things, the Marabar Caves. The question is not merely, what happened in those caves? But rather, what are the caves? And what is India? And what is human existence? Is there hope, and meaning, and purpose? Is there a purpose to the British Empire? Is there a purpose to human connection? Is there a purpose to empathy and understanding? Or is it all merely an endless echo in a dark cave, BOUM? All these questions, it seems to me, are the same question, the question that drives the engine of this novel, and indeed all examinations of why greater powers have always seen fit to oppress, manipulate, and exploit the weaker.

Don’t be turned off by the false sense, because it is a "classic," that this is some slow, dreary work. It isn’t. It’s alive, extremely entertaining. And mysterious. That was the biggest surprise - the uncanny, amazing feeling running through the entire text that there are deeper forces at work, that there are answers to the human conundrum just out of our line of sight, just around the bend of the cave. It’s about the British Raj and human beings and the (im)possibility of human connections, and it is one of the best novels I have ever read. Highly recommended. ...more

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Jul 29, 2014 Veronique rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: favourites-5and4-5, 2017

4.5

"India likes gods."
"And Englishmen like posing as gods.”

I first read this classic back when I was 18 and remember liking it. The main plot had remained in my memory but not much else. Re-reading it now in my 40s, I’m amazed how this text is so relevant to today’s sociological and indeed political landscape.

Forster’s novel, published in 1924, dealt with imperialism, showing the interactions between British and Indians in the fictional city of Chandrapore. As you expect, most of the English b ...more

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Jun 27, 2014 Kinga rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: pub-1924

“A Passage to India” is most of all a story of a fragile friendship which carefully treads the cultural differences. It’s a story of tiny misunderstandings and silly errors and their dramatic consequences.

Adela Quested who arrives in colonial India with the best and purest intentions ends up causing irreparable damage to the reputation of an Indian doctor Dr Aziz, and in consequence ruins his friendship with Cyril Fielding, an English teacher.

Adela is not so much a heroine but a catalyst of th ...more

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Nov 25, 2013 Roy Lotz rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: highly-recommended-favorites, anglophilia, novels-novellas-short-stories

Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it, and the books and talk that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate, in the hope of justifying their own existence.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what the novel is, exactly. It’s an exceedingly flexible and fluid form. The novel can accommodate historical behemoths like War and Peace, philosophical exercises like The Brothers Karamazov, wacky experiments like Ulysses, and mythical adventures like Th
Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it, and the books and talk that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate, in the hope of justifying their own existence.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what the novel is, exactly. It’s an exceedingly flexible and fluid form. The novel can accommodate historical behemoths like War and Peace, philosophical exercises like The Brothers Karamazov, wacky experiments like Ulysses, and mythical adventures like The Lord of the Rings. Or can it? Many works of fiction we call novels for lack of a better term; but can the term encompass both Pale Fire and In Search of Lost Time, The Trial and Huckleberry Finn, The Shining and On the Road? Really, what characteristics do all these multifarious works share? That they’re fiction?

The more I read, the more I think that there are novels, and there are various novelish things that perhaps we ought not to name. Names are only useful if they reliably tell us something about what they’re naming. So what is the novel, pure and simple, devoid of any hesitations or qualifications? Well, in lieu of any simple definition, I’d like to offer this gem of a book as a prime example of what I mean. A Passage to India is a paragon of the novel form.

Forster is a delicate craftsman. Without any plodding descriptions or obvious inner monologues, he manages to convey the personalities of his characters. They don’t spill out their philosophy of life; rather, they have commonplace conversations with one another. And out of the cadences of speech and the turns of thought in these banal interactions, we come to know the characters intimately—which is a pleasure, as Forster’s characters are wonderful works of art. They are, all of them, ordinary but interesting; impressive but imperfect; likable but limited. In short, they are real people; but, like all great fictional characters, they are also more than real people—they are whole types of people. A novelist does not simply capture people he knows; rather, he takes a characteristic here, a quality there, and fits them together like puzzle-pieces. The result is a person strikingly familiar, yet strikingly new. We feel like we've met before, but we’re happy to meet again.

In a great novel such as this, the drama does not feel manufactured or contrived; unlike some cheap thriller, the excitement is not the result of improbable coincidences or extraordinary events. Forster, instead, brings out the drama hidden in everyday situations; he brings to light tiny tensions, daily anxieties. The result is a penetrating exploration of human society and psychology. Forster shows how people both shape and are shaped by their circumstances; and this continuous interplay of social environment and personality unearths things never buried. Like a great still-life, Forster’s novel doesn’t so much reveal, as remind. A great work of science or of philosophy may make us cry out “How interesting and insightful!” But a great novel, such as this, makes us cry out “How true! How perfectly true!”

Forster’s novel does all of these things. It’s both a work of art, and a superlative example of the craft of the novel. And, like any good novel, I can’t say any more without spoiling the plot! You’ll just have to see for yourself. ...more

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Sep 16, 2018 Bradley rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: traditional-fiction, 2018-shelf

The one word that kept coming to mind as I read this and even after I finished, is: "Remarkable".

Honestly, even if I had never been told that E. M. Forster is one of those legendary greats, as mysterious as he is beloved, I would point to his writing and say the same damn thing.

I'm genuinely awed.

Beyond simple, clear prose, I was enraptured by the humor and odd observations in the dialogues, the irony of Colonial England ladies wanting to see "The Real India", or the great way that every single The one word that kept coming to mind as I read this and even after I finished, is: "Remarkable".

Honestly, even if I had never been told that E. M. Forster is one of those legendary greats, as mysterious as he is beloved, I would point to his writing and say the same damn thing.

I'm genuinely awed.

Beyond simple, clear prose, I was enraptured by the humor and odd observations in the dialogues, the irony of Colonial England ladies wanting to see "The Real India", or the great way that every single character is painted without bias or slant. It's definitely a humanist novel. But beyond that, for a novel out of 1925 and dealing with the heart of English occupation of India and the enormous prejudices and idiocies on BOTH sides of the debate, I'm flabbergasted with the number of courageous turns and observations.

It's not just a condemnation of the occupation, but there's plenty of that. It's about ignorance across the board, about true friendship, understanding and, of course, rampant misunderstanding.

India is painted in a gloriously chaotic fashion and England as is stolid, claustrophobic self, but there's lots of humor and heart and simple plain erroneous humanity on both sides.

Don't mistake my ramblings as a description of a travel tale. Misfortunes abound and innocent people's lives are or are nearly ruined. Who's to blame? Everyone. Is it a comedy? Yes. Is it tragic? Yes. Is it thoughtful and emotional and wise? Yes.

What really stuck with me was the preoccupation with the idea of marriage. Not actual marriage, but the perception of it. So many faults and accidents and a weight of tradition conspired to make a real hash out of the MC's engagement. But what made this novel brilliant was the way it perfectly dovetailed and highlighted, or was reverse-highlighting the reality of the English Occupation.

Marriage and occupation are so VERY alike, are they not? And Forster is no slouch on any front. He's clever and wide-ranging with his portrayals of women. Each is as different as can be. The good, the bad, and everything in-between. :) Like anyone. But the important bit is WHEN this came out. It's no knee-jerk reaction to women's right's movements. It's just seeing them with clear eyes. Or seeing the people of India the same way, for that matter. :)

But again, don't let me persuade you that this is all the novel is about. These are just a few tastes to a VERY rich and remarkable novel. :) I think I could read it 4 or 5 times and still find new gems or facets inside it. :) ...more

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Jan 22, 2016 Steven Walle rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

This book is a classic peace of literature. It describes the differences in the western mindset and the eastern way of thought. It shows how there are similarities in the two cultures of England and India. There are marked differences in the religeons of Hindoism, Budism, Islam, Christianity and intellectualism. I recommend this book highly to all.
Enjoy and Be Blessed.
Diamond

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Jan 07, 2017 Amanda rated it really liked it

Shelves: audible

3.5 stars rounded up because I recognize the importance of this work as part of the literary canon I just didn't love it. This is my 3rd book by E.M. Forster and my least favorite. I had a hard time getting into this. To be honest I found the beginning to be a bit of a slog and if I hadn't been reading this as part of a challenge I may not have finished it. BUT, I'm really glad I did because it all comes together nicely in the end. I listened to the audio which was a good choice for me. It pulle ...more

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Feb 03, 2017 Tahera rated it really liked it · review of another edition

Shelves: classics, i-have-a-physical-copy, historical-fiction

Set against the back drop of the British Raj this books explores the question of whether there could ever be a real bond of friendship and brotherhood between people belonging to two different nations, religion, culture. Although published in 1924, this book is suggestive of the mood which eventually led to the events of 1947 in the Sub Continent.

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May 10, 2017 Julie rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

It's a Saturday evening, and you and your significant other have just arrived at an outdoor barbecue, hosted by your sweetheart's employer.

As you step out on to the patio, you do a quick visual sweep of the social atmosphere. At first glance, it looks as though the party is dominated by your partner's coworkers, which is unfortunate, as they are all metallurgists. That's right. They're all metallurgists, and you're. . . well, you're you.

You've got your fingers crossed that someone's significant It's a Saturday evening, and you and your significant other have just arrived at an outdoor barbecue, hosted by your sweetheart's employer.

As you step out on to the patio, you do a quick visual sweep of the social atmosphere. At first glance, it looks as though the party is dominated by your partner's coworkers, which is unfortunate, as they are all metallurgists. That's right. They're all metallurgists, and you're. . . well, you're you.

You've got your fingers crossed that someone's significant other will turn out to be a pole dancer or a comedian, but as you approach the first pockets of people, you realize that, as usual, you're dreaming.

You dash off to find alcohol to sustain you, only to discover that the host is a recovering alcoholic and the only beverage that will be served on this night is a cucumber-infused water. What in the hell?

Soldiering on, you bravely break into one or two of these small social packs, trying to crack a joke, entertaining yourself by balancing the sliced cucumbers on your eyes, pretending they are pennies and you are blessedly dead.

No such luck. You're alive, but you're invisible, and you are stone-cold-sober and this may be the most boring evening of your life. Your partner has abandoned you to some work-related issue, and you are completely hopeless until you stumble upon a group of three people, standing off to the side. You hear something about a “Dr. Aziz” and some accusations that are damning, that apparently have been made by a female coworker. Two of the people reveal in the conversation that they are HR employees, and they are investigating the claim. You are suddenly a fly on the. . . paper plate? You can't hover closely enough. You are riveted. You hate to admit it, but you've always loved a good scandal. . . as long as it doesn't involve you.

You listen for as long as possible, until the small group breaks apart and walks away. Your partner startles you, returning to you, pulling you out of the trance of the story, and indicates to you that it's time to leave. Time to leave? But it just FINALLY got interesting. ...more

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Feb 24, 2013 Komal rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: my-most-beloved-books

When I first picked up this book, I was 13, and expecting to be insulted by some white guys going on about how barbaric my culture and history were and how the magnanimous British civilized us all. I was, thankfully, wrong.

It follows Mr Fielding, Miss Adela, and Mrs Moor as they come to tour India. They are shown about by Dr Aziz, a poor Muslim, and Adela's fiance Mr Moor. The basic storyline is one of Adela and Mrs Moor touring India, but then Adela eventually convicts Dr Aziz of sexual harassm ...more

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Jan 31, 2017 Paula W rated it really liked it · review of another edition

With everything going on this week, I can't help but think that this novel is still timely and relevant after all these years.

The book had a bit of a slow start for me. However, it was important for the author to fully describe exactly what life was like in British-controlled India, from where they lived to how they lived to who they interacted with and under what circumstances they were allowed to do so. Rampant racism and religious intolerance didn't only occur between the British and the Ind ...more

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Sep 12, 2009 K.D. Absolutely rated it liked it · review of another edition

Recommended to K.D. by: 501 Must Read Books, 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die (20

Shelves: classics, 1001-core, 501

Chandrapore, India during the British Raj in the 1920s. This is about a British young woman, Adela Quested falsely accusing an Indian doctor, Dr. Aziz of attempted rape. During the trial, Adela withdrew her lawsuit and admitted her mistake. The false accusation, the trial and the retraction further divided the nation between the white colonizers and the dark-skinned natives.

"Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet"" wrote Rudyard Kipling in his 1889-first published po Chandrapore, India during the British Raj in the 1920s. This is about a British young woman, Adela Quested falsely accusing an Indian doctor, Dr. Aziz of attempted rape. During the trial, Adela withdrew her lawsuit and admitted her mistake. The false accusation, the trial and the retraction further divided the nation between the white colonizers and the dark-skinned natives.

"Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet"" wrote Rudyard Kipling in his 1889-first published poem, "The Ballad of East and West". This 1924 novel of Edward Morgan Forster clearly illustrated this belief. England being the colonizer and India as the colonized country have two totally different cultures and beliefs. They have different religions, traditions, superstitions and obviously the most members of the fair-skinned race always thinks that they are better than their colonized country that happens to have a darker color of skin (in the novel, some English even called Indians 'niggers').

Since Indian independence from British Raj in 1947, does this 1924 novel still have significance to the young people of the world?

I was in my late 30's (2000-2004) when I traveled thrice to Mumbai, India. I toured the whole of Mumbai and its neighboring provinces. During one of my trips, I was waiting in the Singapore airport for my plane to India. There was a young female doctor who looked smart and friendly. After some introductions, I learned that she was a medical doctor and she was practicing in London. With my little knowledge of Indian history and being not too culture-sensitive yet, I said out: "Philippines has a lot of English-speaking people and it was because we were under American rule for 40 years. I think India must also feel indebted to British people for bringing good education system in India during their rule". To my surprise, she got upset and replied back: "Please do not credit the British for our educational system. Where do you think the golds of the Royal family came from? Blah blah blah"

In 1985, I saw the film adaptation of this novel that was nominated in the Best Picture category in the Oscars. It ended up winning two awards. It did not leave a big impression to me. I think I was too young (fresh from college) then and I had no idea about India's fight for independence in the 20's. Due to my trips to India, I bought the VCD copy of that movie and saw it again. The reason was that I wanted to see Mumbai on the screen again as I saw those tourist attractions featured in the film such as The Gateway to India, Taj Mahal Hotel, etc. Still, the movie did not give much impact to me.

Now that I am 45 years old, I read the book where that film was based on. The mesmerizing prose of E. M. Forster not only gave me a deeper insights on the struggle of Indians to gain their independence but it reinforced my personal belief that there is nothing to gain from a country being under the rule of any other (more powerful) country. The reason is that each country has its own culture and beliefs and those being deeply-rooted, cannot be easily shaken off by introducing another culture especially in a short period of time.

My only difficulty in reading this book is the lengthy painful-to-read narratives towards the middle trying to develop some of the minor characters. I thought that those secondary characters could be removed from the story without compromising its message. Otherwise, it is a perfect novel with well-developed characters, exotic backdrop, poetic narratives and a resounding message. The fact that E. M. Forster is British made me wonder how could a writer belonging to the oppressor race be able to write as if he was part of the oppressed race?

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Apr 11, 2015 Inderjit Sanghera rated it really liked it · review of another edition

‘A Passage to India’ is E.M Forster’s magnum opus, the novel which combined his febrile artistic vision and fascination with India. Some of Forster’s depictions of India are wonderful and he is able to capture the humidity, the maleficent mugginess of the Indian atmosphere to outsiders;

“She watched the moon, whose radiance stained with primrose the purple of the surrounding sky. In England the moon had seemed dead and alien; here she was caught in the shawl of the night together with the earth a ‘A Passage to India’ is E.M Forster’s magnum opus, the novel which combined his febrile artistic vision and fascination with India. Some of Forster’s depictions of India are wonderful and he is able to capture the humidity, the maleficent mugginess of the Indian atmosphere to outsiders;

“She watched the moon, whose radiance stained with primrose the purple of the surrounding sky. In England the moon had seemed dead and alien; here she was caught in the shawl of the night together with the earth and all the other surrounding stars.”

Just as the shawl of the night envelops the Indian skyline, coalescing the shimmering stars and incandescent moon into a scene of baleful beauty, so the shawl of India, with its myriad of strange customs, languages, religions, people, buildings, attitudes and wildlife enveloped the heart of Forster, who was endlessly fascinated with the seemingly boundless beauty of India. Indeed few non-Indian writers have ever dealt with India so sensitively and sympathetically, have ever painted India in the opalescent colours which Forster broad brushstrokes are able to achieve. The blush of the moon and the blue tint of a cloud form a central part of Forster’s homage to India, to its phosphorescence and its vastness and to the indescribable potency which lay at the heart of India, slumbering beneath the behemoth of the British Raj;

“The heat had drawn back a little before its next advance, the journey was not unpleasant. As she left Chandrapore, the moon, full again, shone over the Ganges and touched the shrinking channels into threads of silver, then veered and looked into her window. The swift and comfortable mail-train slid with her through the night, and all the next day she was rushing through Central India, through landscapes that were baked and bleached but had not the hopeless melancholy of the plain.”

The crux of the plot, an incidental sexual liaison within a network of eternally echoing caves, is not the major theme of the novel, which explores the relationship and gulfs between the British and their Indian subjects. Forster brilliantly captures the arrogance and priggishness of the colonialists, their ignorance and racism and the ignoble position of the native Indians in a society which was so keen to deny them their humanity, instead burdening them with the insurmountable weight of colonialism. Most of the Indian characters are reduced to the bumbling caricatures which the British had turned them into, lickspittles licking the mud-filled boots of ignorant bores, yet there is something lacking in Forster’s characterisations, which too often descent into caricturisations; the bellicose general, the frigid English lady, the sensitive poet and the sensitive sympathiser, many of the characters revert to type, and although types do exist, having them form the majority of a novel’s cast is inartistic. The two main protagonists, the doctor Aziz and the sensitive lecturer Fielding are both well fleshed out, as is Mrs Moore, who is probably the most “positive” character in the novel, yet even then Forster is unable to coax either of the main characters from the cocoon of clichés which engulf them; Aziz with his naiveté and juvenile emotional capacities and Fielding with his sensitive yet condescending love of Indian culture and people, the characters perhaps lack the half a dimension which allows them to become fully fleshes out human beings, which is made worse by the fact that Forster was a writer who aimed for psychological and social realism. But perhaps that is Forster’s point, that in a country with as many social imbalances as British India, it is impossible for us the British to view their subjects as human beings and vice versa as people are unable to overcome the barriers of empire.

One of the main preoccupations of Forster’s novel is whether Indians and the British can ever achieve true friendship, and the answer is ambiguous as the only way Indians are able to ingratiate themselves with the British is to speak their language and echo and parrot their customs and culture and disregard their own. Perhaps Forster’s point is that the differences in power and culture between the two people made the possibility of true friendship nearly impossible, as even the closest friendship in the novel, between Aziz and Fielding, is fraught with a myriad of misunderstandings which are a product of their cultural differences

“he grappled beneath the shifting tides of emotion which alone can bear the voyager to the anchorage, but may also carry him to the rocks. He was safe really-as safe as the shore dweller who can only understand stability and supposes that every ship must be wrecked, and had sensations the shore-dweller cannot know. Indeed, he was sensitive rather than responsive. In every remark he found a meaning, but not always the true meaning, and his life, though vivid, was largely a dream.”

Although the novel sometimes reeks of the fetid smell of Forster’s fetishisation of India, it still serves as a landmarks in exploring colonial India in a way that sympathised more with Indian culture and its people than was normal at the time is wonderfully written, with some passages of great beauty and profundity. ...more

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About E.M. Forster

E.M. Forster

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

He had five ...more