A Room with a View

By E.M. Forster

First published in 1908, E. M. Forster’s “A Room with a View” is the story of a young English middle-class girl named Lucy Honeychurch. As the novel opens we find Lucy touring Italy with her overbearing older cousin and chaperone, Charlotte Bartlett. The two are upset over the views from their rooms. Having been promised views that overlook the river Arno, the two instead receive views of the courtyard. Their complaints are overheard by Mr. Emerson, who offers to swap rooms with them, citing the fact that he and his son George both have rooms that overlook the Arno. After a brief romantic encounter between George Emerson and Lucy while they are in Florence, the two travel on to Rome where Lucy is wooed by her friend from England Cecil Vyse. When Lucy learns from the vicar that a local cottage has been rented she discovers that the Emersons have arrived in Rome. Again the prospect of romance with George entices Lucy but she is torn between the more acceptable prospect of a union with Cecil. “A Room with a View” is the classic human struggle of choosing a partner who is the most socially acceptable versus the desire for true love. This edition includes a biographical afterword.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Digireads.com Publishing
• Release date: Sep 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781420955989

E.M. Forster

E.M. Forster (1879-1970) was an English novelist. Born in London to an Anglo-Irish mother and a Welsh father, Forster moved with his mother to Rooks Nest, a country house in rural Hertfordshire, in 1883, following his father’s death from tuberculosis. He received a sizeable inheritance from his great-aunt, which allowed him to pursue his studies and support himself as a professional writer. Forster attended King’s College, Cambridge, from 1897 to 1901, where he met many of the people who would later make up the legendary Bloomsbury Group of such writers and intellectuals as Virginia Woolf, Lytton Strachey, and John Maynard Keynes. A gay man, Forster lived with his mother for much of his life in Weybridge, Surrey, where he wrote the novels A Room with a View, Howards End, and A Passage to India. Nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature sixteen times without winning, Forster is now recognized as one of the most important writers of twentieth century English fiction, and is remembered for his unique vision of English life and powerful critique of the inequities of class.

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A ROOM WITH A VIEW

By E. M. FORSTER

A Room with a View

By E. M. Forster

Print ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-5597-2

eBook ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-5598-9

This edition copyright © 2017. Digireads.com Publishing.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Cover Image: a detail of Dreaming on the Arno, c. 1902 (pencil, pastel & gouache on board), Robinson, Frederick Cayley (1862-1927) / Private Collection / Photo © Peter Nahum at The Leicester Galleries, London / Bridgeman Images.

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CONTENTS

Part I

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Part II

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Biographical Afterword

Part I

Chapter I

THE BERTOLINI

The Signora had no business to do it, said Miss Bartlett, no business at all. She promised us south rooms with a view close together, instead of which here are north rooms, looking into a courtyard, and a long way apart. Oh, Lucy!"

And a Cockney, besides! said Lucy, who had been further saddened by the Signora’s unexpected accent. It might be London. She looked at the two rows of English people who were sitting at the table; at the row of white bottles of water and red bottles of wine that ran between the English people; at the portraits of the late Queen and the late Poet Laureate that hung behind the English people, heavily framed; at the notice of the English church (Rev. Cuthbert Eager, M. A. Oxon.), that was the only other decoration of the wall. Charlotte, don’t you feel, too, that we might be in London? I can hardly believe that all kinds of other things are just outside. I suppose it is one’s being so tired.

This meat has surely been used for soup, said Miss Bartlett, laying down her fork.

I want so to see the Arno. The rooms the Signora promised us in her letter would have looked over the Arno. The Signora had no business to do it at all. Oh, it is a shame!

Any nook does for me, Miss Bartlett continued; but it does seem hard that you shouldn’t have a view.

Lucy felt that she had been selfish. Charlotte, you mustn’t spoil me: of course, you must look over the Arno, too. I meant that. The first vacant room in the front—

You must have it, said Miss Bartlett, part of whose travelling expenses were paid by Lucy’s mother—a piece of generosity to which she made many a tactful allusion.

No, no. You must have it.

I insist on it. Your mother would never forgive me, Lucy.

She would never forgive me.

The ladies’ voices grew animated, and—if the sad truth be owned—a little peevish. They were tired, and under the guise of unselfishness they wrangled. Some of their neighbours interchanged glances, and one of them—one of the ill-bred people whom one does meet abroad—leant forward over the table and actually intruded into their argument. He said:

I have a view, I have a view.

Miss Bartlett was startled. Generally at a pension people looked them over for a day or two before speaking, and often did not find out that they would do till they had gone. She knew that the intruder was ill-bred, even before she glanced at him. He was an old man, of heavy build, with a fair, shaven face and large eyes. There was something childish in those eyes, though it was not the childishness of senility. What exactly it was Miss Bartlett did not stop to consider, for her glance passed on to his clothes. These did not attract her. He was probably trying to become acquainted with them before they got into the swim. So she assumed a dazed expression when he spoke to her, and then said: A view? Oh, a view! How delightful a view is!

This is my son, said the old man; his name’s George. He has a view too.

Ah, said Miss Bartlett, repressing Lucy, who was about to speak.

What I mean, he continued, is that you can have our rooms, and we’ll have yours. We’ll change.

The better class of tourist was shocked at this, and sympathized with the new-comers. Miss Bartlett, in reply, opened her mouth as little as possible, and said:

Thank you very much indeed; that is out of the question.

Why? said the old man, with both fists on the table.

Because it is quite out of the question, thank you.

You see, we don’t like to take— began Lucy.

Her cousin again repressed her.

But why? he persisted. Women like looking at a view; men don’t. And he thumped with his fists like a naughty child, and turned to his son, saying, George, persuade them!

It’s so obvious they should have the rooms, said the son. There’s nothing else to say.

He did not look at the ladies as he spoke, but his voice was perplexed and sorrowful. Lucy, too, was perplexed; but she saw that they were in for what is known as quite a scene, and she had an odd feeling that whenever these ill-bred tourists spoke the contest widened and deepened till it dealt, not with rooms and views, but with—well, with something quite different, whose existence she had not realized before. Now the old man attacked Miss Bartlett almost violently: Why should she not change? What possible objection had she? They would clear out in half an hour.

Miss Bartlett, though skilled in the delicacies of conversation, was powerless in the presence of brutality. It was impossible to snub any one so gross. Her face reddened with displeasure. She looked around as much as to say, Are you all like this? And two little old ladies, who were sitting further up the table, with shawls hanging over the backs of the chairs, looked back, clearly indicating We are not; we are genteel.

Eat your dinner, dear, she said to Lucy, and began to toy again with the meat that she had once censured.

Lucy mumbled that those seemed very odd people opposite.

Eat your dinner, dear. This pension is a failure. To-morrow we will make a change.

Hardly had she announced this fell decision when she reversed it. The curtains at the end of the room parted, and revealed a clergyman, stout but attractive, who hurried forward to take his place at the table, cheerfully apologizing for his lateness. Lucy, who had not yet acquired decency, at once rose to her feet, exclaiming: Oh, oh! Why, it’s Mr. Beebe! Oh, how perfectly lovely! Oh, Charlotte, we must stop now, however bad the rooms are. Oh!

Miss Bartlett said, with more restraint:

How do you do, Mr. Beebe? I expect that you have forgotten us: Miss Bartlett and Miss Honeychurch, who were at Tunbridge Wells when you helped the Vicar of St. Peter’s that very cold Easter.

The clergyman, who had the air of one on a holiday, did not remember the ladies quite as clearly as they remembered him. But he came forward pleasantly enough and accepted the chair into which he was beckoned by Lucy.

"I am so glad to see you, said the girl, who was in a state of spiritual starvation, and would have been glad to see the waiter if her cousin had permitted it. Just fancy how small the world is. Summer Street, too, makes it so specially funny."

Miss Honeychurch lives in the parish of Summer Street, said Miss Bartlett, filling up the gap, and she happened to tell me in the course of conversation that you have just accepted the living—

Yes, I heard from mother so last week. She didn’t know that I knew you at Tunbridge Wells; but I wrote back at once, and I said: ‘Mr. Beebe is—’

Quite right, said the clergyman. I move into the Rectory at Summer Street next June. I am lucky to be appointed to such a charming neighbourhood.

Oh, how glad I am! The name of our house is Windy Corner.

Mr. Beebe bowed.

There is mother and me generally, and my brother, though it’s not often we get him to ch—The church is rather far off, I mean.

Lucy, dearest, let Mr. Beebe eat his dinner.

I am eating it, thank you, and enjoying it.

He preferred to talk to Lucy, whose playing he remembered, rather than to Miss Bartlett, who probably remembered his sermons. He asked the girl whether she knew Florence well, and was informed at some length that she had never been there before. It is delightful to advise a newcomer, and he was first in the field.

Don’t neglect the country round, his advice concluded. The first fine afternoon drive up to Fiesole, and round by Settignano, or something of that sort.

No! cried a voice from the top of the table. Mr. Beebe, you are wrong. The first fine afternoon your ladies must go to Prato.

That lady looks so clever, whispered Miss Bartlett to her cousin. We are in luck.

And, indeed, a perfect torrent of information burst on them. People told them what to see, when to see it, how to stop the electric trams, how to get rid of the beggars, how much to give for a vellum blotter, how much the place would grow upon them. The Pension Bertolini had decided, almost enthusiastically, that they would do. Whichever way they looked, kind ladies smiled and shouted at them. And above all rose the voice of the clever lady, crying: Prato! They must go to Prato. That place is too sweetly squalid for words. I love it; I revel in shaking off the trammels of respectability, as you know.

The young man named George glanced at the clever lady, and then returned moodily to his plate. Obviously he and his father did not do. Lucy, in the midst of her success, found time to wish they did. It gave her no extra pleasure that any one should be left in the cold; and when she rose to go, she turned back and gave the two outsiders a nervous little bow.

The father did not see it; the son acknowledged it, not by another bow, but by raising his eyebrows and smiling; he seemed to be smiling across something.

She hastened after her cousin, who had already disappeared through the curtains—curtains which smote one in the face, and seemed heavy with more than cloth. Beyond them stood the unreliable Signora, bowing good-evening to her guests, and supported by ’Enery, her little boy, and Victorier, her daughter. It made a curious little scene, this attempt of the Cockney to convey the grace and geniality of the South. And even more curious was the drawing-room, which attempted to rival the solid comfort of a Bloomsbury boarding-house. Was this really Italy?

Miss Bartlett was already seated on a tightly stuffed arm-chair, which had the colour and the contours of a tomato. She was talking to Mr. Beebe, and as she spoke, her long narrow head drove backwards and forwards, slowly, regularly, as though she were demolishing some invisible obstacle. We are most grateful to you, she was saying. "The first evening means so much. When you arrived we were in for a peculiarly mauvais quart d’heure."

He expressed his regret.

Do you, by any chance, know the name of an old man who sat opposite us at dinner?

Emerson.

Is he a friend of yours?

We are friendly—as one is in pensions.

Then I will say no more.

He pressed her very slightly, and she said more.

I am, as it were, she concluded, the chaperon of my young cousin, Lucy, and it would be a serious thing if I put her under an obligation to people of whom we know nothing. His manner was somewhat unfortunate. I hope I acted for the best.

You acted very naturally, said he. He seemed thoughtful, and after a few moments added: All the same, I don’t think much harm would have come of accepting.

No harm, of course. But we could not be under an obligation.

He is rather a peculiar man. Again he hesitated, and then said gently: I think he would not take advantage of your acceptance, nor expect you to show gratitude. He has the merit—if it is one—of saying exactly what he means. He has rooms he does not value, and he thinks you would value them. He no more thought of putting you under an obligation than he thought of being polite. It is so difficult—at least, I find it difficult—to understand people who speak the truth.

Lucy was pleased, and said: I was hoping that he was nice; I do so always hope that people will be nice.

I think he is; nice and tiresome. I differ from him on almost every point of any importance, and so, I expect—I may say I hope—you will differ. But his is a type one disagrees with rather than deplores. When he first came here he not unnaturally put people’s backs up. He has no tact and no manners—I don’t mean by that that he has bad manners—and he will not keep his opinions to himself. We nearly complained about him to our depressing Signora, but I am glad to say we thought better of it.

Am I to conclude, said Miss Bartlett, that he is a Socialist?

Mr. Beebe accepted the convenient word, not without a slight twitching of the lips.

And presumably he has brought up his son to be a Socialist, too?

I hardly know George, for he hasn’t learnt to talk yet. He seems a nice creature, and I think he has brains. Of course, he has all his father’s mannerisms, and it is quite possible that he, too, may be a Socialist.

Oh, you relieve me, said Miss Bartlett. So you think I ought to have accepted their offer? You feel I have been narrow-minded and suspicious?

Not at all, he answered; I never suggested that.

But ought I not to apologize, at all events, for my apparent rudeness?

He replied, with some irritation, that it would be quite unnecessary, and got up from his seat to go to the smoking-room.

Was I a bore? said Miss Bartlett, as soon as he had disappeared. Why didn’t you talk, Lucy? He prefers young people, I’m sure. I do hope I haven’t monopolized him. I hoped you would have him all the evening, as well as all dinner-time.

He is nice, exclaimed Lucy. Just what I remember. He seems to see good in every one. No one would take him for a clergyman.

My dear Lucia—

Well, you know what I mean. And you know how clergymen generally laugh; Mr. Beebe laughs just like an ordinary man.

Funny girl! How you do remind me of your mother. I wonder if she will approve of Mr. Beebe.

I’m sure she will; and so will Freddy.

I think every one at Windy Corner will approve; it is the fashionable world. I am used to Tunbridge Wells, where we are all hopelessly behind the times.

Yes, said Lucy despondently.

There was a haze of disapproval in the air, but whether the disapproval was of herself, or of Mr. Beebe, or of the fashionable world at Windy Corner, or of the narrow world at Tunbridge Wells, she could not determine. She tried to locate it, but as usual she blundered. Miss Bartlett sedulously denied disapproving of any one, and added I am afraid you are finding me a very depressing companion.

And the girl again thought: I must have been selfish or unkind; I must be more careful. It is so dreadful for Charlotte, being poor.

Fortunately one of the little old ladies, who for some time had been smiling very benignly, now approached and asked if she might be allowed to sit where Mr. Beebe had sat. Permission granted, she began to chatter gently about Italy, the plunge it had been to come there, the gratifying success of the plunge, the improvement in her sister’s health, the necessity of closing the bed-room windows at night, and of thoroughly emptying the water-bottles in the morning. She handled her subjects agreeably, and they were, perhaps, more worthy of attention than the high discourse upon Guelfs and Ghibellines which was proceeding tempestuously at the other end of the room. It was a real catastrophe, not a mere episode, that evening of hers at Venice, when she had found in her bedroom something that is one worse than a flea, though one better than something else.

But here you are as safe as in England. Signora Bertolini is so English.

Yet our rooms smell, said poor Lucy. We dread going to bed.

Ah, then you look into the court. She sighed. If only Mr. Emerson was more tactful! We were so sorry for you at dinner.

I think he was meaning to be kind.

Undoubtedly he was, said Miss Bartlett.  Mr. Beebe has just been scolding me for my suspicious nature. Of course, I was holding back on my cousin’s account.

Of course, said the little old lady; and they murmured that one could not be too careful with a young girl.

Lucy tried to look demure, but could not help feeling a great fool. No one was careful with her at home; or, at all events, she had not noticed it.

About old Mr. Emerson—I hardly know. No, he is not tactful; yet, have you ever noticed that there are people who do things which are most indelicate, and yet at the same time—beautiful?

Beautiful? said Miss Bartlett, puzzled at the word. Are not beauty and delicacy the same?

So one would have thought, said the other helplessly. But things are so difficult, I sometimes think.

She proceeded no further into things, for Mr. Beebe reappeared, looking extremely pleasant.

Miss Bartlett, he cried, it’s all right about the rooms. I’m so glad. Mr. Emerson was talking about it in the smoking-room, and knowing what I did, I encouraged him to make the offer again. He has let me come and ask you. He would be so pleased.

Oh, Charlotte, cried Lucy to her cousin, we must have the rooms now. The old man is just as nice and kind as he can be.

Miss Bartlett was silent.

I fear, said Mr. Beebe, after a pause, that I have been officious. I must apologize for my interference.

Gravely displeased, he turned to go. Not till then did Miss Bartlett reply: My own wishes, dearest Lucy, are unimportant in comparison with yours. It would be hard indeed if I stopped you doing as you liked at Florence, when I am only here through your kindness. If you wish me to turn these gentlemen out of their rooms, I will do it. Would you then, Mr. Beebe, kindly tell Mr. Emerson that I accept his kind offer, and then conduct him to me, in order that I may thank him personally?

She raised her voice as she spoke; it was heard all over the drawing-room, and silenced the Guelfs and the Ghibellines. The clergyman, inwardly cursing the female sex, bowed, and departed with her message.

Remember, Lucy, I alone am implicated in this. I do not wish the acceptance to come from you. Grant me that, at all events.

Mr. Beebe was back, saying rather nervously:

Mr. Emerson is engaged, but here is his son instead.

The young man gazed down on the three ladies, who felt seated on the floor, so low were their chairs.

My father, he said, is in his bath, so you cannot thank him personally. But any message given by you to me will be given by me to him as soon as he comes out.

Miss Bartlett was unequal to the bath. All her barbed civilities came forth wrong end first. Young Mr. Emerson scored a notable triumph to the delight of Mr. Beebe and to the secret delight of Lucy.

Poor young man! said Miss Bartlett, as soon as he

Reviews for A Room with a View

[theloislevel · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Well, I think I'm going to be teaching this book this year. I see the themes that make it a good one to teach to adolescents. I have a little trouble reading it, though, unless I'm not tired and have no distractions...I tend to get a little lost in the words!

[jonfaith · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The inhabitants of Windy Corner (as well as Pensione Betolini) are left pale and perforated after Forster's serial needling. Forster can only stop heckling his characters long enough to appreciate the song of the season's and the subtle currents of music.

[breic-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

It's fun and builds up stronger, but I never really connected with it. Maybe the weak start threw me.

[cindywho-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Listened to the Classic Tales podcast version. Not bad.

[herenya_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Lucy Honeychurch and her cousin Charlotte are visiting Florence when they meet Mr Emerson and his son. Later in England, when they encounter the Emersons again, they both have private reasons for wanting to avoid them.I was delighted by much of this; it is astutely observant and gently humorous. Much ado is made over a kiss, which is baffling from a modern perspective, but I suspect this not only reflects attitudes common at the time but that Forster is intentionally showing that his characters are being a bit ridiculous.I would be even more enthusiastic if the final chapters had unfolded as they did. There’s an irritating scene where a man lectures Lucy, telling her what she should do. His motives aren’t unsympathetic, and his advice isn’t unreasonable -- but it is uninvited and he persists even when she becomes obviously upset. Moreover, the story then jumps in time, skipping over Lucy deciding what to do next and how she goes about it. I’m pleased with the final result, but why must you diminish her agency like that?It is obvious enough for the reader to conclude, “She loves young Emerson.” A reader in Lucy’s place would not find it obvious. Life is easy to chronicle, but bewildering to practice, and we welcome “nerves” or any other shibboleth that will cloak our personal desire. She loved Cecil; George made her nervous; will the reader explain to her that the phrases should have been reversed?

[theampersand · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

"A Room with a View" is a good novel in the nineteenth-century style, but it becomes a really interesting novel when one considers that it feels like one of the last of its kind. The old themes and plot devices -- marriage, propriety, manners, financial security, and consideration -- are still present, but in a changing, modernizing world. Indeed, a lot of the manners that allowed characters in previous romantic novels to effectively communicate with each other sometimes seem like hindrances to communication here: much of the time, the author seems to suggest that language itself can be a barrier to real understanding. Forster also includes a few characters with unmistakably modern ideas, describes the way that suburbia is encroaching on traditional English country life, and, most exciting of all, explores how values associated largely with the twentieth century, such as freedom and independence, might affect the traditional novel. Forster's imagery, particularly his use of water, seems more attuned to post-Freudian or Modernist writing as well. The novel's ending didn't surprise me in terms of plot -- this is, after all, a love story -- but it takes a few genuinely surprising thematic terms that would have been almost unimaginable in, say, a Jane Austen novel. It might not be an exaggeration to say that "A Room with a View" feels like the Victorian novel writing itself out of existence. The novel also has some other attractions. Forster has a lot of fun with the English abroad, who seek to bring their own country with them or take pride in finding an probably imaginary "real Italy." And then, of course, there's Lucy Honeychurch, the female character at the novel's center, who is wonderfully human and sympathetic. She's not as headstrong as Elizabeth Bennett, but because the conflict she feels, which often hinges on the conflict between her own affection for her upbringing and her desire for a new sort of life, her character might be an excellent recapitualtion of all the novel's themes. I didn't find "A Room with a View" to be a fun or thrilling read; in its way, it's very formal. But that doesn't mean it isn't a very, very good novel.

[amydross · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

What a dreadful, dreadful work of sentimental nonsense -- I'm frankly sorry to have read it. I can't believe this is what passes for serious literature in some circles.The whole piece is supposed to show the contrast between the shallow, conventional "high society" and the radical free-thinkers who oppose them. But these free-thinkers, supposedly so in touch with Nature and Truth and Love come across as sometimes tiresome, sometimes plainly mad. I also found the love story entirely unconvincing -- what on earth did Lucy see in a foul-tempered brute like George? I could write more about the subtle misogyny of this work, but it would just raise my blood pressure, so I'll let it lie.At least the writing was stylistically elegant and enjoyable to read.

[varwenea · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Some women would be satisfied simply being a “Leonardo”, so beautiful and mysterious, like the Mona Lisa by DaVinci. But not Lucy Honeychurch, our heroine desires to be a living, breathing woman with her own ideals – “a rebel who desired, not a wider dwelling-room, but equality beside the man she loved. For Italy was offering her the most priceless of all possessions – her own soul.” Some men can envelope a woman like a room, a room without a window, without a view. That’s Cecil Vyse. Her fiancé is a handsome gent from a respectable family – mediaeval, “Like a Gothic statue. Tall and refined… Well educated, well endowed, and not deficient physically.” This man checks off like a grocery list of traits to look for in an ideal husband in the Victorian ages, but alas he is soulless, “the sort who can’t know any one intimately.”Lucy, our resident Victorian rebel, finds in George Emerson, the man who literally offered his room with a view in the Bertolini Pension during a chance meeting while vacationing in Florence but also becomes the man who offers her the life she wants – to be with a man who is capable of sharing his life, open and picturesque, like a room with a view. Tada! In all honesty, the book is simple in plot. The fun is in reading the time it represented. I’m not sure I like having “the comic muse” and “the reader” included in the writing. I also didn’t get into the book immediately. A bit slow, a bit dulled by early 1900’s female conventions. But clearly, Lucy is at the verge of bursting at the seam with individualism. From Father Emerson to Lucy early in the book, “… Let yourself go. Pull out from the depths those thoughts that you do not understand, and spread them out in the sunlight and know the meaning of them.” When her betrothed “laughed at her feminine inconsequence” and concluded her frowning is “the result of too much moral gymnastics”, how does one learn what she really wants and accept who she really is? Father and son Emerson and a questionable “prematurely aged martyr” of a cousin/chaperone Miss Charlotte Bartlett will help Lucy find the way. Some quotes:On Gossip:“The Ghoulish fashion in which respectable people will nibble after blood.”On Men vs. Women:Freddy (Lucy’s younger brother upon meeting George): “How d’ye do? Come and have a bathe.”“Oh, all right,” said George, impassive.Mr. Beebe was highly entertained.“’How dy’ye do? how d’ye do? Come and have a bathe,’” he chuckled. “That’s the best conversational opening I’ve ever heard. But I’m afraid it will only act between men. Can you picture a lady who has been introduced to another lady by a third lady opening civilities with ‘How do you do? Come and have a bathe’? And yet you will tell me that the sexes are equal.”And “The Garden of Eden,” pursued Mr. Emerson (father), “which you place in the past, is really yet to come. We shall enter it when we no longer despise our bodies.”Mr. Beebe disclaimed placing the Garden of Eden anywhere.“In this – not in other things – we men are ahead. We despise the body less than women do. But until we are comrades shall we enter the garden.”On ? – heck, I don’t know. It’s just beautiful, a paragraph that I would never be creative enough to write:“That evening and all that night the water ran away. On the morrow the pool had shrunk to its old size and lost its glory. It had been a call to the blood and to the relaxed will, a passing benediction whose influence did not pass, a holiness, a spell, a momentary chalice for youth.”On the concept of doing minimum harm in life, but enjoying it nonetheless:“There is a certain amount of kindness, just as there is a certain amount of light. We cast a shadow on something wherever we stand, and it is no good moving from place to place to save things; because the shadow always follows. Choose a place where you won’t do harm – yes, choose a place where you won’t do very much harm, and stand in it for all you are worth, facing the sunshine.”Lucy’s farewell to Cecil:“’When we were only acquaintances, you let me be myself, but now you’re always protecting me.’ Her voice swelled. ‘I won’t be protected. I will choose for myself what is ladylike and right. To shield me is an insult. Can’t I be trusted to face the truth but I must get it second-hand through you? A woman’s place! ….. Conventional, Cecil, you’re that, for you may understand beautiful things, but you don’t know how to use them; and you wrap yourself up in art and books and music, and would try to wrap up me. I won’t be stifled, not by the most glorious music, for people are more glorious, and you hide them from me. That’s why I break off my engagement. You were all right as long as you kept to things, but when you came to people –‘ She stopped.”

[tairngire · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

For such a forward thinking book set in such a stringent culture, A Room With a View is rather fun to read. E.M. Forster's writing is smooth and his characterizations of people are ones the reader can really relate to. You know a Cecil, you've met a Lucy. And while they're not larger than life characters, they are characters full of life. The story itself is simple yet intriguing, and sits on that shelf of history that is not quite dated and not quiet modern. Also, the Baedeker and English tourist bits are still hilarious.

[cdeuker · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Many wonderful things in this novel about finding love and fighting conformity. Lucy is an endearing heroine, brave and cowardly in turns. The minor characters are interesting, the descriptions of place (Windy Corners, Florence) tremendous. Marred for me by a bit more preachiness than I like, and also by the lack of depth of George, Lucy's love. He's depressed at first, has sporadic Lawrencian attacks of "life," is depressed again, and is saved in love by his father at the end. It's hard to rejoice with Lucy in such a choice for life. Still, beautifully written and even though preachy, I'm in agreement with all that's being preached.

[michaelbartley · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

the story of a young woman in the victora age coming to find herself and her own voice. it is a classic for good reason worth reading

[lidbud · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is absolutely lovely. I would recommend this to someone who is wanting to read classics, but is unsure where to start, as it is a very easy read.

[ffortsa · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I had the great pleasure of listening to this via an Audible recording by B.J. Harrison, whose narration was wonderful. It's an early Forster, in which he delightfully skewers Edwardian upper middle class manners. A young woman takes a tour of Italy, with a rather purse-lipped older cousin/chaperone, and of course falls in love, to her own dismay, flees, makes bad choices, and then good ones.The characters are vividly different, and include sneering expats, an inappropriately wild female novelist, a clergyman, a pair of older British spinsters, and even a rather un-Italian pension proprietress. The writing is equally vivid. What is most striking to me is how Forster makes us privy to the thoughts of our heroine Lucy Honeychurch (what a name!). We hear her testing her conventions and emotions, as Italy shows her the possibilities of generous feeling, as well as the dangers of passion. Back home, she struggles to re-adapt to the expectations of society, but plans go delightfully awry.I've rarely laughed out loud walking uptown listening to a novel, but I did several times listening to this.

[amerynth · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I have a very vivid memory of reading E.M. Forster's "A Room with a View" while sitting in a tent somewhere on a camping trip out west. So, I thought this was a probably a re-read for me.... but now I think I just made that memory up. I was certainly familiar with the plot, as the Helena Bonham Carter movie was on endless repeat on HBO when I was young so I knew I loved the story.The novel tells the story of Lucy Honeychurch, who lives in the repressed Victorian age where young women do what they're supposed to rather than following their passions. She gradually and quietly wakes up as the story progresses.This book was straight up my alley... the writing is great and full of marvelous little insights. Nostalgia may have pushed this up a bit to 5 stars for me, but it's a book I definitely wouldn't mind reading over again.

[thedivineoomba · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I read this book not knowing exactly what it was about. I found it initially to be a bit slow, and the characters absurd, going on about nothing. But that is what makes this book is so great! You get Lucy Honeychurch, a young woman traveling with her cousin Charlotte. Lucy lives in a world of extreme etiquette. When a young man of a lower social class steals a kiss, it takes Lucy out of her complacent world. She quickly finds a man at of her own social status, but as her fiancée pushes his thoughts and beliefs on her, Lucy finds herself caught between her social obligations and her newly found feelings. It took me a bit to follow the language and to understand that the author is deliberately exaggerating Victorian attitudes and customs, but once I caught on, it became a very enjoyable, and highly recommended.

[wrichard_22 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A young girl's awakening. Very readable and believable. The film's good too

[leslie398 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I found Lucy a bit wishy-washy, although a fairly realistic version of a girl in her late teens at this time. For me, the most interesting part of this novel was the relationship between Lucy and Miss Barlett, although I do admit to a soft spot for Mr. Emerson Sr. :)

The British tourists were pretty insufferable, but it felt true to life.

[donura1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Another English Classic down and too many to count left to listen to. Room with A View, one of the many E. M. Forster greats, as a Librivox audio book was very satisfying. I must give credit to the reader, Kara Shallenberg, for reading with feeling and lilt. It so makes a difference. I wear my iPod and listen to books whenever I am doing mundane work or knitting or sewing. I find that many of the classics calm me and humor me at the same time and needless to say, there is an unending supply waiting to be heard.Lucy Honeychurch was a breath of fresh air for a time period when young single women were mostly at the mercy of their mothers or the men they had promised to marry. Lucy and a senior cousin take a trip to Italy to immerse themselves in the art of Florence. They stay at a pension that caters to English travelers and it is there that Lucy meets Mr. George Emerson and his father. The Emersons are different from your typical English gentlemen. George was somewhat a bohemian for the day and an atheist. Lucy seems to even doubt herself and how she became immediately enchanted by someone so different from her circle in society so she denies her feeling for as long as possible and almost loses the one thing she was sure she wanted. Love. Forster illustrates class, and gender issues with great feelings but he also draws beautiful nature settings with words. I am now going to treat myself to a viewing of the film, with Helena Bonham Carter. Said to be one of her best roles.

[karin7-11 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

2 stars

Lucia (Lucy) Honeychurch is a conventional young woman on tour in Italy in the early 20th century who is accompanied by her middle aged cousin who is a spinster. The trip awakens more in her as she meets some unconventional people and witnesses a murder. She falls in love with George Emerson, an unconventional man who is a socialist and very much an individual. However, she denies and suppreses this as they are separated by Lucia's cousin, Miss Charlotte Bartlett. Lucy becomes engaged to a man she thinks she loves before meeting George once again, and the rest you have to read to find out.

The book started of rather insipidly, and there wasn't much depth put into the characters. Forster often used surnames as characters labels (surnames such as Eager, Lavish, Vyse (a surname, but sounds just like vise aka vice), or after famous people with certain outlooks that tied into his characters), which I found rather annoying. I finished this for 1001 books, etc, but was not thrilled with this book. Forster clearly meant this book to be a statement, but I didn't find it impressive in the least.

[booksfordinner · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Didn't finish. Never read this when I was younger. Obviously beautifully written, but just not holding my interest. Whole chapters about manners and whatnot, just not gonna happen. Same issues as when I periodically try and read Jane Austen. Recognize the brilliance, of course, just to much in another era.

[readingrat_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A quaint Victorian social satire and romance that makes for a short pleasant read.

[jaylia3 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

If I could give this more than 5 stars I would. Forster writes with beauty, sympathy and understanding. I’ve been wanting to te-read this for a while, and got to it this month for the GoodReads Dead Writers Society Literary Birthday read for January. Sometime last year I re-watched the movie and as I remember it, the movie follows the book very closely, though I’m sure I would see changes if I watched it now after right having finished the book. The only difference I noticed was the ending--in the book Lucy’s family and friends are angry with her for marrying George, but I don’t think that was in the movie. Both have their last scene back in Italy, in the same room Lucy was in before. The BBC apparently has a more recent production that has George die in WWI at the end, and Lucy visit Italy again as an older woman years later without him (!).

[silva_44 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I listened to the audio version on Librivox.org, and both the reading and the book impressed me. This is a beautiful love story, without any affectation or sap. Well done, E.M. Forster, well done.

[read4to4live · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The female protagonist is self-centered and dim-witted. Her conversation (and thoughts) are 90% about herself, and 10% just silly. Unlike any Jane Austen heroine, I would not have the slightest desire to meet her in person. Her general appeal seems to rest upon her youth and good looks, her passionate piano playing, and her appreciation of nature; indeed, she seems almost a force of nature, an embodiment of a pure, childish life force. Does she ever once perform a genuine act of kindness, let alone empathy? She feels shame, that's all, when she can see that her actions negatively impact someone else, but not empathy, not a true human connection. Neither does she have a single original thought.Nevertheless, the entire book is worth it for the scene at the end where Mr. Emerson forces her to face the truth: her overwhelming desire to be trusted has led to nothing but lies. This scene was beautifully read by Joanna Davis. "They trust me," she hisses; "But why should they," he answers, "when you have deceived them?"What is the point of trust built on lies? Mr. Emerson is the one person in the book I would love to meet and know better. Truly kind, thoughtful, analytical, and intelligent, the one jarring note is his refusal to accede to his wife's desire to baptize their son. If he thinks it means nothing, then why not make her happy? It can be explained only by his reverence for the truth:"Am I justified?" Into his own eyes tears came. "Yes, for we fight for more than Love or Pleasure; there is Truth. Truth Counts, Truth does count."She "never exactly understood," she would say in after years, "how he managed to strengthen her. It was as if he had made her see the whole of everything at once."Truth counts.***"Mr. Beebe--I have misled you, I have misled myself--""Oh, rubbish, Miss Honeychurch!""It is not rubbish!" said the old man hotly. "It's the part of people you don't understand."***

[shootingstarr7 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

When I began A Room with a View by E.M. Forster, I wasn't sure what to expect. It's not a long book- less than 200 pages- but I got stuck about one hundred pages into Howard's End four years ago and never completed it. So in late May, I began reading it. It took me nearly a month and a half to complete it, making the story feel much longer than it actually was. I couldn't quite suss out the relationship between Lucy and Charlotte, or exactly why Charlotte found Mr. Emerson and his son so objectionable. I struggled with the rhythm of the novel nearly the whole time they were in Italy. But then they returned to England, and I finally got a feel for Lucy and the rhythm of the story, and in the end, I really enjoyed it. Perhaps the most fascinating thing about this novel is that Forster accurately reflects the changes of society and the novel at the time. The conflict between old Victorian proprieties and modern sensibilities and equalities plays out in its pages much the way it did in real life. The upper classes (as well as those who aspired to the upper class, in Charlotte's case) tried to retain their old social values, while the working classes sought progress. And though he never says it explicitly, Forster suggests that those touting progress and reform were more sensible than those who clung to the old ways. This is especially clear in the depictions of Cecil Vyse and George Emerson; Cecil is portrayed as being boorish and lazy, and nearly opposite of George Emerson, whose quiet strength ultimately wins Lucy's heart.

[lisamaria_c · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The introduction in the edition I read describes this as a "sunny novel." It is indeed--the first draft was Forester's first try at a novel, written when he was young, and very much in league with youth, and a youthful spirit. The light tone, the focus on romance, the good-humored social criticism and gentle social satire reminds me very much of Jane Austen, even if Forster was as far removed from her Regency era as his Edwardian is from ours. I had a smile on my face from the very first pages at how sharply drawn were Miss Lucy Honeychurch, a young Englishwoman visiting Florence and her companion Miss Bartlett, spinster martyr and chaperone. Even just reading the chapter headings was illuminating and amusing. One of the most revealing, I think, was In Santa Croce with No Baedeker. Baedeker was the popular travel guide of the day, which told you just what proper reactions you should have to the art around you. Lucy through much of the novel will be peering at the social Baedker of the reactions of her fellow British around her trying to decide just how to act rather than looking into her own heart. As much as anything else, this is her coming of age novel. Oh, and yes, romance. Her love interest to my mind isn't drawn all that strongly or appealingly. I didn't fall in love with George Emerson in the way I have the romantic heroes of Austen or Bronte or Gaskell. He's shown as rather impulsive and immature and not all that articulate. His father comes across more strongly as a character than he does. For all that, it's still is a strong appeal to let love be--and the ending gives more grace to certain character than I would have expected. It's a novel lovely and lyrical and warm.

[philsyphe · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A book of two halves, the being Italy, the second England.Set in the early 1900s, Lucy, the central character, is a young woman being taught the correct way to behave in society by the likes of her mother, her older cousin, and religious persons.In contrast, she meets Mr Emerson and his young son George, both of whom "tell it like it is", encouraging her to do the same.This is my first taste of E. M. Forster's work and I am impressed with his characterisation and plotting skills. He injects humour into scenes were you sometimes don't expect it, such as Lucy arguing with her fiancé, when she accuses him of not liking her mother because of her attitudes to social behaviour and puddings.The narrative did occasionally lapse into a somewhat bland tone, but overall I found it entertaining.

[deltaqueen50 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A Room With A View by E.M. Forster opens in Florence, Italy where tourists Lucy Honeychurch along with her cousin and chaperone, Charlotte Bartlett first make the acquaintance of the Emersons, father and son who give up their rooms to the two English ladies so that they will have a view. The other guests at this small inn all are British and are a varied assortment, but right from the start Charlotte is convinced that the Emersons are ill-bred and should be avoided. Of course the Emerson son, George and Lucy are obviously attracted to each other, but Lucy comes to agree with her cousin and tries to stay away from the Emersons but this often cannot be avoided. On a group trip to the Italian countryside, George not only challenges Lucy’s thinking but also kisses her, which in these rigid Edwardian times was a great affront. Lucy, more disturbed than before, and Charlotte pack up and depart Florence.The story then moves forward a few months to England and Lucy accepting the proposal of Cecil Vyse, much to delight of her family. But Cecil is domineering and judgmental. He is constantly telling Lucy what to think and how to act. When the Emersons appear back on the scene, Lucy feels trapped and cannot admit even to herself how she feels about George, but she does find the courage to break off her engagement to the pompous Cecil. Unknown to Lucy someone is making manoeuvres behind her back and ensuring that all works out the way it should.Room With A View is a romance and had many of the trappings of that genre, an exotic setting with summer storms, hillsides of violets, chance encounters and romantic rivals. This is also a love story with repressed feelings, denial, and class barriers, however, the author with his humorous and satirical style gives this story it’s extra sparkle and wit. While I wasn’t totally enamoured with his characters, I did admire the author’s ability to set the scene, serve up some intriguing dialogue, and give the reader a vivid picture of the repressed nature of Edwardian times.

[baswood · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Muddling through with E M Forster, whose wit is at its sharpest in this superb novel. The simple tale of a young woman whose spirit is awakened after a trip to Italy, which leads to her rejection of a "good" marriage, which Forster transforms into a novel that explores many aspects of life and society for the upper middle classes in England at the turn of the 20th century.The novel was published in 1908, when 19th century mores were still prevalent, but under attack from a rising middle class. This is only one of the many recurring themes in the novel. There is the struggle for individuality, the barriers between the social classes, a religious community losing its grip and of course a woman's place in a changing society. These heavyweight themes are all there for the observant reader to discover, however they are presented with such a lightness of touch and such good humour that the the reader is more likely to gasp with pleasure than to become embroiled in a serious discussion of the human condition. That is the art of this novel.Forster's dialogue is brilliant and witty throughout and his keenly observed characters are so well rounded that when they do or say surprising things (and many of them do) we are not surprised. The most obvious examples are Cecil Vyse's acceptance of Lucy's rejection of him and her subsequent assessment of his character; "His voice broke, I must actually thank you for what you have done - for showing me what I am." Then there is Mr Beebe who we have come to think of a reasonably progressive and tolerant parson, whose belief in celibacy allows him to take pleasure in broken marriage engagements. Forster's favourite character and one that I think he uses to speak through is the old Mr Emerson. A free thinking socialist whose sometimes outrageous comments signal major issues for the characters. "Beware of muddle" he says "life is glorious but it is difficult" Many of the characters are in a muddle, feeling their way through, most of them trying to do right, but all of them constrained. Lucy and George do break free, but it does not lead to happiness ever after. Life and world event intervene as Forster makes clear in an appendix written in 1958. Surprisingly enough the most underdeveloped character is George. We hear about him mainly through his father Mr Emerson, who relays to us his sons thoughts and personality. Whenever George appears he is largely silent or boisterous or just is. Perhaps this is what Lucy loves.Forster's ability to conjure up the effects of landscape and surroundings on his characters is brilliantly evident. Here is Lucy unchaperoned at last and exploring Florence. She is restive and thinking about not wanting to be a "medieval lady". She comes into the Piazza Signora where a dramatic event is about to happen:" Nothing ever happens to me she reflected,as she entered the Piazza Signora and looked nonchalantly at its marvels, now fairly familiar to her. The great square was in shadow: the sunshine had come too late to strike it. Neptune was already unsubstantial in the twilight, half god, half ghost, and its fountains plashed dreamily to the men and satyrs who idled together on its marge. The Loggia showed as the triple entrance of a cave, wherein dwelt many a deity, shadowy but immortal, looking forth on the arrivals and departures of mankind. It was the hour of unreality............."The notorious male nude bathing scene is vibrant and full of youthful vigour and Forster describes the lush green sward freshened after rain. "The three gentlemen rotated in the pool breast high after the fashion of nymphs in Gotterdammerung". Homo erotic? maybe, but no more so than D H Lawrence's wrestling scene in Women in Love and this naked bathing scene ends in farce and high spirits. As in A Passage to India and Howards End a carefully organised social event goes awry and leads to an event that will be life changing for those involved. In Passage to India it was Mrs Quested in the caves of Malabar, here it is an excursion to a wild mountain picnic spot above Florence. The ingredients are all here: The Emersons have been mistakenly included in the outing although by this time they have been more or less ostracised by the rest of the English group. They are not the right sort. The journey up in horse drawn cabs is fraught with difficulties and Mr Emerson argues with the others over the cab driver's dalliance with a girlfriend. They arrive in high dudgeon and wander off on their own. In a scene reminiscent of Mrs Quested in those caves, Lucy slipped down a terrace and lands at the feet of George:"This terrace was the well-head, the primal source whence beauty gushed out to water the earth.......For a moment he contemplated her as one who had fallen out of heaven. He saw radiant joy in her face, he saw the flowers beat against her dress in blue waves. The bushes above them closed. He stepped quickly forward and kissed her." Unlike the scene in the Marabar caves there is no mystery here. George comes forward and kisses her, but still the consequences are enormous for both of them.This is a relatively short novel: just 200 pages and the events take place within a one year time span. There is however so much to enjoy and so much to ponder over that its the sort of book you end up flicking back through almost as soon as you have read it: for the sheer pleasure and joy of reading

[tjsjohanna_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The language and the manners and the characters all combine to make this a delightful read. What adds a layer of richness is the theme of being true - of not hiding behind convention but declaring truth, particularly in relationships. I especially enjoyed Lucy and her struggle between what she felt inside and what she thought she should do. And there are such great characters in this book - Mr. Beebe is quite interesting, though I was disappointed with him in the end. And Charlotte is so annoying that she makes good reading.