Letters between Forster and Isherwood on Homosexuality and Literature

by Richard E. Zeikowitz, E.M. Forster, Christopher Isherwood

This original analysis of correspondence between E.M. Forster and Christopher Isherwood illuminates how these two influential writers grappled with WII, their personal relationships, and their creative works.

Genres: Nonfiction, Gay, LGBT, History

205 pages, Hardcover

First published July 15, 2008

Reviews

[Jean-Luke · Rating 5 out of 5]

From reading these letters you get the idea that Christopher Isherwood showed EM Forster just how much fun life could be. Isherwood's initial letters are from Germany, Greece, the Canary Islands, Portugal, Spain, usually accompanied by an invitation, but EM Forster always seems to have some excuse. Granted, he is 30 years older than Isherwood and had already done his fair share of traveling, but he remains very much the Edwardian, while Isherwood lets his flag 🏳️‍🌈 fly free. Isherwood famously ends up in California, while Forster grows into the old man (he died at 91) it seems he's been all his life. Oh, how I relate. In fact, I think I'll start classifying my days as 'Isherwood days' or 'Forster days' accordingly. Something changes after WWII when Forster seems to become more active than ever, taking trips to India, and America, and again tinkering with Maurice. Perhaps at last Isherwood rubbed off on him?

Imagine casually sending your regards to Wystan (WH Auden), Aldous (Huxley), Willie (Somerset Maugham), or quickly cycling over to see Dodie Smith. How about a weekend at the house of Leonard and Virginia Woolf, both apparently very wrapped up in their books?

"My life is water-colour rendering of yours: a burst water-pipe instead of a frozen radiator, cough and cold instead of clap, failure to start an article on "How I listen to Music" instead of a novel, and a £50 loan to poor Mrs Morgan at the garage instead of an American debt."

[Asclepiade · Rating 2 out of 5]

Sono un grande appassionato di carteggi ed epistolarî, perché spesso dalle lettere, come d’altronde dalle memorie o dai diarî, esce un quadro vivo d’un certo momento storico, e la civiltà d’un certo contesto emerge con particolare risalto sia da missive composte pensando ai posteri o limate in un secondo momento con l’occhio alla fama futura, sia da lettere inviate senza particolari preoccupazioni retoriche; fra l’epistola come genere letterario e quella come puro messaggio utilitaristico esiste, del resto, una gradazione amplissima di situazioni intermedie, anche perché ad esempio uno scrittore non sempre riesce a deporre i panni reali e curiali mentre scrive al prossimo in privato. Esistono perfino, e si leggono con piacere, carteggi che sono splendidi modelli di stile anche quando non dicono praticamente nulla, come molte lettere di Simmaco e di autori bizantini, ed altri, redatti da gente affatto imperita, dalla prosa rotta e impervia, densi però di curiosità e testimonianze, a volte commoventi, su luoghi e tempi e mentalità ed esperienze lontani dai nostri, come avviene per certi dispacci rinvenuti su papiri, o ai fogli mandati a casa da soldati o emigranti a stento alfabetizzati. Ci sono poi missive composte da gente famosa, che trovano l’onore della pubblicazione grazie appunto alla fama dell’autore, ma opache nell’eloquio e povere di contenuto, le quali, com’è ovvio, interessano il biografo e magari anche l’appassionato, ma non brillano per nessun altro pregio che le possa rendere piacevoli e interessanti a tutti gli altri lettori: per queste l’idea migliore mi sembra riservarne la pubblicazione a un’eventuale edizione critica. Ecco, il caso della corrispondenza fra Isherwood e Forster mi sembra proprio quest’ultimo. Che Isherwood fosse un epistolografo insulso me n’ero accorto leggendo il florilegio delle “lettere da Sintra” stampate qualche anno fa da un editore nostrano mettendovi in copertina, oltre a lui e a Spender, un Auden che a Sintra con gli altri due stette pochissimo e non scrisse lettere a nessuno (le lettere scritte da Isherwood a Forster durante il soggiorno nella città portoghese ovviamente sono incluse anche nella presente raccolta pubblicata da Archinto); speravo che almeno Forster meritasse la spesa del libro, ma mi sono ingannato: neanche lui come autore di lettere vale granché, sebbene sia migliore di Isherwood; ma ci vuol poco. Forster era vecchio, aveva problemi di salute (anche se fu molto longevo), era depresso per molti fatti politici e culturali che vedeva attorno a sé, ma a mio avviso era altresì un terribile piagnone: somigliava insomma a tante persone d’una certa età, che passano il tempo a lamentarsi di tutto: la salute, il governo, le finanze proprie e altrui, i libri (degli altri), i conoscenti, la gente in generale; in realtà faceva una vita piuttosto comoda e neanche tanto disagiata, ma non se ne rendeva nemmeno conto. L’altro infiorava le sue paginette di resoconti senza sugo, di freddure noiose, di battute che non fanno ridere; unico punto interessante, quando entrambi parlavano di Maurice, che, com’è noto, Forster lasciò inedito in vita, ma fece leggere a parecchi amici fidati. Il sottotitolo all’edizione italiana parla di lettere su letteratura ed omosessualità. Di letteratura, tutto sommato, in queste pagine si parla pochino, e quasi sempre a proposito di gente nota tutt’al più a specialisti di letteratura inglese (nei rari casi ove si citino scrittori famosi, come Tolstoj, non emergono giudizî degni di memoria); di omosessualità, meno ancora, e appena di striscio: sarà pure che in Inghilterra essa era un reato, ma lo era anche nella Roma pontificia, il che non impediva per esempio a Baldassar Castiglione di riferirne al riguardo motteggi molto divertenti e arguti nel Cortegiano; qua, con due corrispondenti seriosi e noiosi, di motteggi divertenti e arguti non si vede manco l’ombra: quando Isherwood tenta di fare il simpatico (Forster neanche ci prova), fa cascare le braccia. Insomma, un libro per addetti ai lavori o per idolatri dei due autori britannici, che ovviamente andrebbero in sollucchero anche leggendone le note per la lavandaia e la lista della spesa.

[Natassa · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm so emotional, especially with the way the book ended. This collection is a great way to dive into the lives and backgrounds of E.M. Forster and Christopher Isherwood, but in a slightly more vague way. Starting in 1932 and ending in 1966, we get to follow the two authors' friendship, both from behind a veil and up close. It's fascinating. We never get to experience their actual meetings, only what they write about them, and throughout the whole book we get this sense of nostalgia and longing, as they often write about missing each other and wishing to meet.

We also get to learn more about their journeys in both their personal lives and careers, and get a glimpse of how things were during the war. Unless you know absolutely everything about them, some parts could be confusing, but that's the charm of this book. They're talking to each other, not us. We just get the privilege of taking a peek and seeing what's on their minds.

I don't read many letters by writers, but I really appreciated this format. How they only talk to each other and no one else. It gave it more of a structure, in a way. If you're a fan of either of these authors I recommend you give this book a try. Not only do they share interesting ideas, but you finish it and feel as if you knew them. A strong 5/5 star book, if letters can be rated, I guess.

[K · Rating 4 out of 5]

Left this unfinished for months last year and forgot to finish up. I really enjoyed the experience of reading this and it made me want to go and read more nonfiction, published letters, this sort of compilation firsthand source. About literary/ artistic/ intellectual movements and groups of the people within them, how they think and lived and interacted with each other and the times that they lived in.

These emerging intellectual circles and the gossipy human element between the figures, are almost more interesting to me than the actual works these people produced. Would want to read more scholarly and pop fiction writing on these types of things. With this collection of compiled letters, you really get the sense of these two authors as people and as dear lifelong friends who had such love and affection for each other, aside from their professional mentor mentee, respected colleagues relationship. It fully humanizes them and puts into context that they, and legendary artists within their circle of acquaintaces, were all just folks of their day living life, they had their clique, just that they were all extraordinary people and managed to leave behind substantial impact upon the world.

Like the first academic publishing about Isherwood's and Forster's generation of writers that I'd read, this has a plethora of name drops and factoids that make me want to branch out in twenty other different directions to read more about their circle. DH Lawrence, TE Lawrence, Auden, Spender, W Somerset Maugham, Oscar Wilde's trial moments, Guy Burgess being a British spy turned Soviet defector and him having a lover in common with Isherwood, the Woolfs' Bloomsbury Group circle, Indian independence movement.... and that's just off the top of my head from the little details I've retained. Makes me want to go read Maurice and get better context for what Isherwood and Auden were discussing here on its evolution as a novel over the years since its writing to publication.

[Honeychurch · Rating 5 out of 5]

EM Forster is such a kind person, and reading these letters is a great way to get to know him/ pretend you're friends with him lol. You get to hear him talk about DH Lawrence, Virginia Woolf, George Orwell, and other authors in his circles, which is honestly so cool. For me, it made me feel like Owen Wilson in Midnight in Paris. It is just exciting to watch Christopher Isherwood start out as a fan and become a friend, exchanging creative writing with Forster and having pretty deep conversations. He gets the chance to actually tell Forster, as a friend, how much his books mean to him, and reading those letters was totally cathartic. He was saying exactly what I wish I could! If you've ever wanted to hang out with EM Forster but can't because it's 2022, this is so worth reading. I couldn't shut up about it for at least a week.

[Francesca · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

[Mason · Rating 5 out of 5]

A fascinating correspondence between two gay literary giants.