Some, but not all writers, can suffer with teething troubles on that first novel, E. M. Forster's 1905 'Where Angels Fear to Tread' is a prime example. It's a valiant effort for a writer in his early days before what would follow, and I can't help but compare this to the delightful novel he wrote only three years later, 'A Room with a View', which pleasantly surprised me as to just how good it was. This, just wasn't in the same league. Our Mr. Forster pretty much corners the literary market on English tourists being overwhelmed by the dream of another country, and what happens when that dream clashes against reality. Here, that clash ain't pretty. What it is, however, is sharp-witted, emotional, and sometimes uncomfortable, about what it means to be a tourist, and what it means to put stock in the dream of another place.
Bon voyage Lilia!, a young unsophisticated widow, is being dropped off at the train station by her in-laws - the domineering Mommy Dearest Mrs. Herriton and her children, Philip and Harriet. They are sending her on a trip to serene Italy with the young but trustworthy Caroline Abbott, to escape the droll life in Sawston, England, and prevent her from making a bad love match up. Yep, we're back in those days of frilly hats, turned up moustaches and fine porcelain skin with not a blemish in sight. Hello, Edwardian-era repression. You do look awfully uncomfortable in that corset my dear.
In Monteriano, Lilia marries the handsome but selfish Italian, Gino Carella but soon finds herself in an unhappy marriage with little personal freedom, and the cultural struggle between England and Italy becomes more heated. The set-up swiftly changes when Lilia's newborn comes into the picture, and the novel turns into what one could describe as an old fashioned custody battle. Philip and his sister Harriet set off to Italy to try and save the child from a poor upbringing. And the pleasant nature than went prior is gone, turning the novel into a more weighty affair. The characters have more gusto, and appear pained with panic, one in particular is forced into drastic measures that will effect the outcome. It doesn't help when Caroline confesses her love for Gino, but there is no walking off into the sunset hand in hand, Forster's horizon is filled with a storm rather than blue skies.
E.M. Forster is a terrific immersive writer, and it doesn't take much to be drawn into his stories. This short novel does contain some gorgeous prose, and it's quick to fall in with his social / political commentary, and the well-rounded dynamic characters are easy to love or hate. Just don't get down on yourself if you end up buying a one-way ticket to Tuscany, cancelling the ticket, buying the ticket again, and then cancelling it again. After all, you're only human. And there's no one that understands fickle, flawed humanity like E.M. Forster. So why not a better rating? - simple, I felt this was more of a writing exercise, where he was wearing trainers and not shiny shoes, the whole novel seemed it was written by a man still trying to figure himself out as a writer. Even the best have to start somewhere, right?. The ending also felt limp, casting a shadow over what when before. The idea's were there for sure, and he would only improve, writing eventually in nice polished shoes.
Worth reading, but lacking certain ingredients that would eventually turn him into one of Britain's finest. By the time my morning coffee and croissant comes around, this isn't likely to be lingering in my mind. Whereas 'A Room with View', which was read some time ago, still floats about occasionally.