A Room with a View

By E. M. Forster and Mint Editions

A tour of Italy takes young Lucy Honeychurch out of her predictable life in Edwardian England and places her into a new world that even her chaperoning spinster aunt cannot control. Encountering everything from unlikely traveling companions to street violence, Lucy faces the greatest challenge in understanding her own shifting emotions toward a most unsuitable suitor.

Since it first appeared in 1908 A Room With a View has been recognized as a masterful depiction of character and conflict. Known to many through Merchant Ivory’s lush 1985 film adaptation, which won multiple awards including the Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay, the novel provides an even richer experience. Lucy’s journey toward a fresh, true understanding of herself and her passions make a compelling story, leavened by both an unexpected dry humor and a belief in the power of love.

With an eye-catching new cover, and professionally typeset manuscript, this edition of A Room With a View is both modern and readable.

Since our inception in 2020, Mint Editions has kept sustainability and innovation at the forefront of our mission. Each and every Mint Edition title gets a fresh, professionally typeset manuscript and a dazzling new cover, all while maintaining the integrity of the original book.

With thousands of titles in our collection, we aim to spotlight diverse public domain works to help them find modern audiences. Mint Editions celebrates a breadth of literary works, curated from both canonical and overlooked classics from writers around the globe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mint Editions
• Release date: Jun 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781513263847

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.

Book preview

PART ONE

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 everyone. 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 everyone 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 had gone.

How angry he is with his father about the rooms! It is all he can do to keep polite.

In half an hour or so your rooms will be ready, said Mr. Beebe. Then looking rather thoughtfully at the two cousins, he retired to his own rooms, to write up his philosophic diary.

Oh, dear! breathed the little old lady, and shuddered as if all the winds of heaven had entered the apartment. Gentlemen sometimes do not realize— Her voice faded away, but Miss Bartlett seemed to understand and a conversation developed, in which gentlemen who did not thoroughly realize played a principal part. Lucy, not realizing either, was reduced to

Reviews for A Room with a View

[thatotter-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I don’t often feel like a novel is too short, but in this case, there were a few places where I wanted additional narrative instead of the authorial equivalent of an ellipsis. Some lovely scenes and characters.

[amelish · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

My favorite book for a long, long time.

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

Listened to the Classic Tales podcast version. Not bad.

[suej1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Revisiting old favourites is a wonderful thing. :) I find I discover fresh perspectives or new delights that I don't remember from a first reading. But in the case of this book, that was a very long time ago! So it was as if I was discovering the story all over again. I love this book!

[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 (!).

[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.

[bookconcierge · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Lucy Highchurch is a well-bred young woman of some means. While in Florence with her spinster cousin Miss Charlotte Bartlett, she meets George Emerson, a fellow guest at their pension. He is handsome but only a bank clerk, rather forward and totally unsuitable for a girl of Lucy’s station. To avoid further contact, the two women continue on to Rome, where Lucy encounters Cecil Vyse, a rather superior gentleman. She accepts Cecil’s proposal but continues to pine for the lowly clerk who has truly captured her heart. When she realizes she has made a terrible mistake, her confusion leads to even more “muddle.”

Forster’s novel takes aim at the British ideas of respectability and social class. Lucy wants to rebel against the many rules that govern her conduct, but she is torn. She loves her mother and brother, and wants the admiration of her social set, but she finds so many of these people tiresome and hypocritical. I was struck by how frequently the title phrase is mentioned. There are the obvious references to her room at the pension in Florence and to the view from the salon at her home in England. But Forster also explores the “view” of one’s acquaintances vs the reality of their inner core. It’s when this second way of looking at things (pun intended) comes into play that the novel really got interesting for me.

I did find the middle section – from the time Lucy and Charlotte left for Rome to Lucy’s epiphany regarding George and Cecil – somewhat slow going. In fact, I just about gave up on the book. But I’m glad I persevered; the last five chapters redeemed the work for me.

[sometimeunderwater · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Read this and 'Where Angels Fear to Tread' in quick succession. This is definitely the 'nicer' of the two: sweet happy ending, young love story. It risks becoming schmaltzy, but avoids it through great writing and very human characterisation. You can see Forster's influence on English literature, trickled down to Smith and Hollinghurst, etc.

[theokester · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A Room with a View is yet another "classic novel" that I never got around to reading…nor did I ever see the movie based on it. Apparently the book has made a few "100 best novels" lists and has received some pretty good praise. I also haven't read much by Forster…actually the only other book I read by him is A Passage to India. I did notice a few similar tones or themes between the two books.Similar to Passage, A Room with a View is a romantic period piece involving a young woman undertaking some exotic travels. We start off in Italy with a young woman, Lucy, and her chaperone, Charlotte, staying in a hotel overlooking Florence. The book title comes from an early experience in the book where Lucy and Charlotte are disappointed to find that their hotel room does NOT have a view of the river. Some other tourists, a father and son…the Emersons, hear their conversation and offer to change rooms with them.Through a series of both mundane and extraordinary events, Lucy experiences Italy. She makes new friends and is discouraged by her aunt/chaperone Charlotte to not make friends with the Emersons who are largely looked down on by all other visitors to the hotel. Naturally, Lucy and the son, George, are pushed together by a variety of circumstances. She finds herself excited, frightened and confused by her feelings towards him and by midway through the novel they are separated and she has decided to hate him.As Part Two of the novel opens, we find Lucy back in England, engaged to be married to another man, Cecil. It's evident that she doesn't love him and in many ways doesn't even like him. But she's confused about who she is and what she wants. To confuse matters more, the Emersons come to stay in the same quiet little town. In many ways you can probably predict the story arc. There are a number of surprising and unexpected elements but the general progression of the book is somewhat predictable. Many of the characters are flat and unremarkable. And yet, the book is deemed a classic and lauded as great. So what makes it so?One thing is that the book is vivid with details. It creates a wonderful backdrop of setting and culture as it describes and shows England and Italy. There is a lot of depth in the way the two countries and cultures are counterbalanced against one another. That counterbalance seems evocative of an underlying theme in the novel.Where Italy is portrayed as more open and free, England is shown as stifling and constrictive. Indeed the tourists flee from England to Italy in an attempt to gain freedom from their home. While there are many static characters, they too may be part of the thematic contrast against the few very dynamic characters…showing the difference between the staid, predictable characters and the developing, emerging characters.Although there are some political nuances, iI think it's safe to say that the novel isn't commenting so much about the politics or culture of Italy vs England as it is about the idea of growing as individuals (particularly women) by breaking free of repression and oppressive conformity. Rather than simply accepting the status quo and allowing ourselves to be pushed into a box, we need to learn how to think for ourselves, find out what we truly want to become and then work to break free and become what we are capable of.In many ways, this felt like a fairly typical period romance from the late-19th/early-20th century. And in many ways it is. But with its detailed writing and intriguingly nuanced characters as well as interesting counterpoints, I can see where this novel gains its praise. It's not likely to be something I would read again and again, but it is certainly worth exploring and could certainly benefit from a close reading with attention to theme and detail.****4 out of 5 stars

[agnesmack · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I don't know how I ended up with this book, but after I did I started to notice it on all kinds of "Best 100 Novels of All Time" lists.I'm not sure what that was about. It was fine, I didn't hate it, but it wasn't anything particularly special either.The story is that of a girl taking a holiday with her spinster aunt. She meets a boy, kisses him and is apparently 'ruined' (the book was written in 1908). She eventually becomes engaged to another man, despite this secret of being 'ruined'. Of course, she eventually runs into the original young man that she kissed, breaks off her engagement and lives happily ever after.

[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

[vivienner_3 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Young Lucy Honeychurch, accompanied by her elderly cousin Charlotte Bartlett, is visiting Italy for the first time. All the drama of life is derived from the confined rules of class and manners where the significance of every event is magnified. The writing had a surprisingly modern flavour, considering that it was written at the beginning of the 20th century. From the sweet Lucy, to the snobbish Cecil Vyse, to the compassionate Rev. Beebe, the characters all stand out clearly, with Lucy being at the centre. There are many humorous passages, one of which involved Miss Bartlett who was required to change a sovereign for smaller coins in order to pay a cab fare. The younger characters completely bewildered her by making complex calculations for the transaction. It appeared she would lose the lot while the others would profit. Forster may have been the first to use this now classic comedy act. This is a delightful novel that will not fail to entertain the reader. Highly recommended.A favourite quote: "She was a novelist," said Lucy craftily. The remark was a happy one, for nothing roused Mrs. Honeychurch so much as literature in the hands of females. She would abandon every topic to inveigh against those women who (instead of minding their houses and their children) seek notoriety by print. Her attitude was: "If books must be written, let them be written by men"

[eglinton_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

English tourists are still arriving in Florence, hoping to be dazzled by the city's Renaissance splendours, and charmed by the laid-back, earthy directness of Italians. But in our current utilitarian age, Forster's themes, unravelling from this classic opening, seem less oppressive. Who checks emotion now, in thrall to the stuffy proprieties of the well-bred? And who bothers with beauty as an ideal, and whether it fits with the lives we lead? Yet this love story still rings true and engages us, because of the credible characters, all somehow at odds with prevailing mores: Lucy, the sulky and passive lead (so memorably cast as Helena Bonham-Carter), George the dashing debunker, and his father Mr Emerson, benign conscience of the novel with his saint-like selflessness, and unmannered romantic simplicity. A satisfying read; almost as good as the film.

[petterw_2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The famous story of Lucy Honeychuch was vaguely known to me before reading E.M- Forster's classic A Room With a View, first published in 1909. It ia particularly interesting to read a story from a different time in history that is actually written as a contemporary novel. I dod, however, at times have problems keeping the interest up, because Forster is considerably more implicit than explicit when describing the events taking place and the emotions of his protagonists . Lucy and George are outsiders in a world that is strictly regulated, at least in the minds of the people we meet in the novel, but only George is aware of it. Reading the novel more than 100 years after publication makes it difficult to regard the characters without the spectacles of our own time, and we are in a way peeping in - but this is also what Forster is doing. He is an ominpresent writer, regarding his characters like they are actors in a play, knowing very well what choices they eventually will make. Towards the end, the book really picks up and one starts to really feel for the characters, seeing them actually make choices. The Florence of A Room With a View has become iconic, both through the novel and the film. Before I went there for the first time, Forster's description made up my image of the city. Not many novels have that impact.

[bpagano_5 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I was surprised at how pleasant this book was to read. It was refreshing considering how much I disliked Pride and Prejudice, which initially this book seemed to resemble. Luckily, this book had likable characters, intelligence, and plenty of wit.

[dschander_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I first read "A Room With a View" by E.M. Forster when I was in college, and though I remembered the book with fondness and kept thinking I should reread it, what I couldn't actually remember was why. Finally, I can answer: the writing is wonderful. It's full of all these little truths and statements about life you've always thought yourself but never put into words. And the story, though simple (a young woman goes abroad for the first time to discover the world and discovers much about life along the way), is true in that way only fiction can be. It's a fast read as well: you feel you've only just begun and look up to discover you're somewhere in the middle, then done.

[john257hopper · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I read this purely because of the Italian setting, though only the first section is set there, in Florence. A lot of action then takes place "off-set" as it were in Rome, before the setting transfers to England. I found most of the characters rather irritating and the situations esp in the England section very dull, though there are a few funny moments due to the ridiculous snobbery of some of them.

[julesjones_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

There are plenty of good detailed reviews on LibraryThing, so I'll simply note that it's a simple enough story on the surface, but beautifully told and crammed with careful social observation and commentary. And while Forster pokes fun at some of his characters, he's careful not to make them cardboard stereotypes. Romance, coming-of-age, comedy, satire -- the book is all these things and does them very well indeed.

[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.

[tinkettleinn · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The portrait of Queen Victoria that hangs on the wall of the Bertolini reveals that Victorian ideals continue to loom over England, and will continue to do so unless the younger generation breaks away from the older generation that tries to control them. Miss Bartlett continues to live in the Victorian Era, and she tries to hold Lucy within the world she lives in. The drawing Mr. Beebe sketches of Lucy and Miss Bartlett is representative of the situation Lucy is trapped in. In the drawing, Lucy is a kite flying in the air, but she cannot fly freely because she is still bound by a string held by her cousin. Lucy is not free because she does not understand the truth, her body, or herself. She moves and thinks according to what has already been dictated or prescribed. She thinks she needs Baedeker’s guide to culture, for example, to explain which Italian paintings are important or beautiful. She does not trust in herself to decide this on her own. She believes it has already been decided. Lucy does not have a view. Mr. Emerson and George challenge Victorian ideals. Miss Bartlett and most of the English tourists at the pension consider them to be ill-bred because they speak the truth about what they are thinking and feeling. Mr. Emerson does, anyway. (There are moments where Mr. Emerson seems to be speaking for George rather than allowing his son to speak for himself. It is hypocritical since he tells Lucy to express what she is really feeling.) It is clear that many of the characters do not “understand people who speak the truth,” and so, Mr. Emerson is misunderstood because he thinks freely and believes in free will. The books in his house indicate that he believes in Libertarianism and Socialism. Mr. Emerson believes in equality for all, which threatens the English class system. Mr. Emerson wants George to find a woman who can be his comrade so they may inhabit a community of sense, a Garden of Eden. He believes that men and women need to trust themselves and stop despising their bodies. The poetry of the 19th Century declared that the body is merely a vessel for the soul. This belief in a division between mind and body led people to despise and repress their own desires. Emerson professes a need for men and women to inhabit their bodies, and love each other mind, body, and soul. They can only be free when their bodies no longer disgust them. In the scene where George, Mr. Beebe, and Freddy are bathing in the Sacred Lake, they seem to be washing their tainted bodies, freeing them from the artificial, man-made world. They become more like their younger, more innocent selves through their interaction with nature. Swimming in the pond seems to be a sort of baptism for George, who is indifferent to the water when he first enters it, but becomes more alive after he plunges into the water. The narrator is trying to filter his readers when Lucy makes an “unfortunate slip” in the speech she recites to Miss Bartlett. She unconsciously describes the day she fell into the violets from her perspective rather than George’s, which reveals that she is in love with him. The narrator draws attention to this ‘slip,’ insisting that the careful reader may have detected Lucy’s error. The narrator is uncertain whether or not Miss Bartlett actually detects this error. It can be argued that the narrator does not believe anyone like Miss Bartlett can understand this novel and would miss Lucy’s error. However, at the end of the novel, George suggests to Lucy that Miss Bartlett may not have been against their love, but secretly rooting for it. If this is the case, then Miss Bartlett might have detected Lucy’s real feelings from her speech.

[acqwoods · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

As much as I have read, I often see lists of the classics and realize how much I haven't read. I sometimes take issue with "must-read" lists of "classic" books just because not everybody is going to like them all. Still, I try to give them a chance. I enjoyed Room With A View but it's not a book I'm going to read twice. Ah well, check it off the list! I am definitely going to check out the Merchant Ivory film made about it with a star studded cast.

[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.

[clfisha · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Set in the beautiful locations of Tuscany and Sussex we follow Lucy Honeychurch and her chaperone touring Italy for the first time and beginnings of freeing herself from straight-laced British society. In fact if you have seen the delightful film you pretty much know what you are getting; wonderful characters from the supercilious suitor to our naive passionate heroine, wry humour, some wonderful observations on English society and the clash of cultures, plus a bit of romance. You also get some great writing, a mostly tight paced plot and unfortunately an odd ending that seems a tad stuck on, but really that's not too much of a fault. Recommended to those looking for a brief taste of Edwardian fiction, lovers of romance and those just wanting an enchanting, dreamy read.

[sturlington_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A Room With a View is a charming love story and a wonderful introduction to Forster's work. But it's also a treatise in how to live. The protagonist, Lucy Honeychurch, is a young woman with potential who hasn't yet begun to live her life. In the first part of the book, she has traveled to Florence with her cousin and chaperon, Charlotte Bartlett, where she first witnesses a murder and then is kissed by George Emerson before an amazing view. The question is, will she allow these experiences to transform her?In Part 2, Lucy has returned home to Windy Corner and Summer Street, where she becomes engaged to the insufferable Cecil Vyse. Lying to herself and everyone around her about her true feelings, as well as her unconscious desire to be an independent woman who is permitted to fully own those feelings, Lucy is in danger of becoming a member of the "vast armies of the benighted," as Forster describes it. She is not true to either her head or her heart, and so marches along in a fugue state. Some people live their whole lives that way (hello, Charlotte!), which would be the greatest of tragedies, Forster implies.Forster's characters make this story come alive. Each one is a complex, real human being. The reader senses that, even while Forster gently pokes fun at all of his characters, he feels genuine affection toward them. And he allows them to surprise us. Even the ones we've dismissed as snobbish and insufferable are allowed to say something insightful or perform a compassionate act. And so they come to seem like real people to us, people we are glad to have known.A Room With a View is worthy of a reading and a rereading. It is a book to make you both think and feel.

[soylentgreen23 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

"A Room with a View" was recommended to me by a very good friend, though I think, given enough time, I would have gotten round to reading it anyway. It's a delightful little book, a tale of love and life, of one girl's discovery that there is more to life than a stolid middle-class English existence. It's also a tale of English customs around the turn of the twentieth century, and of the English tourist abroad. At times the wit is scathing, and rightly so; the reader cheers when what was obviously going to come about finally does, but along the way there is such humour that the story can never be considered boring.

[brandie_14 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Cute book. Certainly not one of my favorite books, but it wasn't a bad read.

[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!

[klarsenmd · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I love this timeless classic love story. It has a sophisticated wit and unforgetable characters.

[echoesofstars · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This book is about an English young woman, Lucy, who is caught in the battle between propriety and passion. Overall, Lucy has little say in the matters that concern her life. At first, she does not reflect deeply on the events that happen to her and because of her. It is not until she witnesses a murder that she begins to think about the events that happen to her and how she interacts with and shapes them. However, she only understands herself and her actions through discourse with other people, who easily influence her frame of mind with emotional appeal or intellectual argument. At one point, Mr. Beebe observes that if Lucy were to live with as much passion as she plays the piano, both her life and the lives of those around her would be much more interesting. Although she ultimately alienates her family to pursue the man whom she loves, even this decision is not reached without the strong influence of Mr. Emerson. In this respect, although the author's definition of passion won over propriety, I was sincerely hoping that Lucy would be able to throw off all the harnesses of well-meaning advice and reach her own conclusion of what do do with her life. I was also disappointed with the rather abrupt and mostly happy ending. In my opinion, although Lucy grew in self-awareness, she never truly discovered herself apart from the influence of others.

[readingrat_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

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