A Room with a View

By E.M. Forster

One of English literature’s most inspiring love stories

Lucy Honeychurch is a young woman torn between the opposing values of gray old England and vibrant Italy in this unforgettable story of romance and rebellion. On a trip to Florence with her older cousin and chaperone, Lucy becomes enchanted by a freedom unlike any she has known at home. The excitement she feels when she is with George Emerson, a fellow boarder at the Pension Bertolini, is as exhilarating as it is confusing, and their intoxicating kiss in a field of violets threatens to turn her whole world upside down. Back at Windy Corner, her family’s Surrey estate, Lucy must finally decide if the power of passion is greater than the force of expectation.

Widely recognized as one of the finest novels of the twentieth century, A Room with a View is E. M. Forster’s most hopeful work and a truly timeless romance.

This ebook has been professionally proofread to ensure accuracy and readability on all devices.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Media
• Release date: Apr 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781480484139

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

E. M. Forster

CONTENTS

Part One:

Chapter I: The Bertolini

Chapter II: In Santa Croce with No Baedeker

Chapter III: Music, Violets, and the Letter S

Chapter IV: Fourth Chapter

Chapter V: Possibilities of a Pleasant Outing

Chapter VI: The Reverend Arthur Beebe, the Reverend Cuthbert Eager, Mr. Emerson, Mr. George Emerson, Miss Eleanor Lavish, Miss Charlotte Bartlett, and Miss Lucy Honeychurch Drive Out in Carriages to See a View; Italians Drive Them

Chapter VII: They Return

Part Two:

Chapter VIII: Medieval

Chapter IX: Lucy As a Work of Art

Chapter X: Cecil as a Humourist

Chapter XI: In Mrs. Vyse’s Well-Appointed Flat

Chapter XII: Twelfth Chapter

Chapter XIII: How Miss Bartlett’s Boiler Was So Tiresome

Chapter XIV: How Lucy Faced the External Situation Bravely

Chapter XV: The Disaster Within

Chapter XVI: Lying to George

Chapter XVII: Lying to Cecil

Chapter XVIII: Lying to Mr. Beebe, Mrs. Honeychurch, Freddy, and The Servants

Chapter XIX: Lying to Mr. Emerson

Chapter XX: The End of the Middle Ages

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 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,

Reviews for A Room with a View

[ghost_boy-691444 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Mainly read this book because Forster is part of the Bloomsbury Group and one of my goals is to read more for that group. However, don't make the same mistake I did thinking this is like a Woolf book. I like her writing better, but he is different, not in a bad way. This reminded me more of Age of Innocence.

I loved the parts about Italian culture the best. This is from an Englishman point of view, but he did a good job making it convincing he knew what he was talking about. I also like the fact you, or maybe just me, not making it seem like a man wrote this book. If there was no author labeled, at times I would think a woman wrote the book. Ad that's a good thing.

I will say I liked the movie a little better. Like I said, not a huge fan of Forster's style. Kind of was a turn off. This isn't that last Forster book I'll read though.

[nordie_2 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

shortish book full of silly mis understandings and English manners disguised as politeness (especially in their disguise of the English Abroad) that gets Lucy engaged to Cecil, only to be confronted with George. George, the awkward Englishman she met on holiday in Florence, who kissed her in the violets, and who she's in love with really but it takes her ages, and a return to England, to realise she's in love

[charlie68_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I've seen the movie, read the book and have now experienced it as a audiobook. Which is best? All of them have their strengths, I don't really have a preference. The story itself is by turns romantic and comedic and at times profound.

[wunder-62679 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

If this is the best of Edwardian literature, then it is a period to avoid. We have cardboard cutout characters with no personality and no development. They have sudden revelations, but most of the time they are trying to sort out who to snub. They argue about coincidences in a plot almost entirely made up of accidental meetings. For a while, I thought the whole thing was a massive, tiresome satire, but I think it isn't that ambitious. It is some sort of tiresome morality play about convention and status, I guess.

[narshkite · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Reread-Started as a 5-star, and absolutely remains a 5-star. I have only one nit to pick, and for me that is pretty amazing. Said nit: Why does Cecil suddenly become human, and not just human but certifiably humble, after Lucy shares her reasons for ending the engagement? Okay, back to work. I do not doubt that I will be thinking about this issue all day despite back-to-back meetings that actually require my focused participation. Full rtfBack for the review --It is easy to forget E.M. Forster was a radical, but he most definitely was. He hung out with Virginia Woolf, he was (obliquely) public about being a homosexual at a time when that was a dangerous choice, he championed gender equality, and he rejected the strictures of upper crust British life in theory if not always in practice. His chafing under societal pressures is so central not just to this book, but to his next, the beautiful Howard's End, and the frustrating and touching Maurice. When I read this in my 20's I don't think I realized how revolutionary some of this was. That may be in part because discussion about the rights of workers and women gets mashed up with overly romantic somewhat nauseating messaging about how love is the answer to all things. Anyway, reading this many years later I was astonished by how ahead of its time much of this was. George says that the future must be one in which men and women are equal. This is really quite shocking. More shocking though is the subtle way in which Forster conveys Mr. Beebe's homosexuality, and hints at Cecil's in the early part of the last century. Most shocking perhaps is Lucy's rejection of money and family to run off and find passion with a socialist aesthete. Could anything have been a more clear rejection of the tenets of 1920's British mores? And Forster makes the reader feel good about all this, casting the horrid Charlotte and the effete Cecil as the exemplars of things proper and English and casting the sweet, shy, depressive George and his loving and defiantly innocent father as the exemplars of modern thinking. How could anyone root for Charlotte and Cecil in that matchup?I know this is primarily a love story, passion over propriety and all that. I love a love story, but honestly reading this as just a love story it doesn't really do it for me. There is, literally, not a single conversation or interaction between George and Lucy that would indicate why he loves her. It is hormones. At least Cecil loved her for her music. George thought her beautiful most definitely and in need of his protection (to save her from ugliness like the blood covered postcards) but they never exchange any other information. Lucy loves him in part for his awkward decency shown in the ceding of his rooms and their view and the postcard incident, and for his honesty and spontaneity in expressing his feelings, and hormones too. There is something there, but George, no. There is not a lot to root for when boiled down to romance. Luckily the book is so much more than that. It is a wonderful and witty slice of life, it is a call for a new day in England, it is an ode to Forster's beloved Italy, and it is a coming of age story (as regards Lucy.) A joy to (re)read. But yeah, I still don't get how the scales fell from Cecil's eyes. I really want to understand that better.

[suesbooks · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This was moderately interesting to read for the historical setting. I also appreciated that Forster was strong in his belief that women could lead independent lives. I did not care for the writing and felt some of it was unclear. I liked many of his literary references.

[msf59 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Lucy, a young English woman, travels to Florence Italy, accompanied by an older cousin. The people she meets there at the Pension Bertolini begin to open her eyes to the ways of the world, including romantic inclinations. A study in the repressed morals of Edwardian England. I ended up liking this novel but not nearly as much as I did Howard's End.

[rajivc_18 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

An excellent book in many ways. This seems to have been one of his earlier books, and I have seen the views of some critics who mention that the book is not as sophisticated as his later books, like "Howard's End" and "A Passage to India."For my part, I enjoyed the book. We all know that E.M. Forster had an almost lyrical style of writing. He could make images dance before your eyes. This is a love story and a gentle satire on English life at the turn of the 19th century. We lie to ourselves, and then also, to others. We deny our feelings, and often choose, or reject, mates due to social prejudices. In this case, unlike "A Passage to India", there is redemption and a happy ending to the tale. Love rules, prejudiced banished.

[gpangel_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A Room with a View by E.M. Forster is a 2017 Amazon Classics publication. ( Originally published in 1908)In the continuing saga of 'taming the TBR' this year, I have found it easier to locate classics that I have been meaning to read for years. The brevity of this one convinced me to make time for it immediately instead of letting it continue to gather 'virtual' dust on my Kindle. I had a little trouble with this one- in fact- I almost gave up on it. I was well over halfway into it before I felt engaged in it. By the time I was finished, though, I was glad I stuck with it. This is a light story, with some dramatics, terrific locales, fantastic characterizations, and a moral that is timeless, but overall, I enjoyed it enough, but it didn't make a lasting impression on me. 3 stars4 stars

[profh-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Once more we have the English abroad and looking to marry, but without the interesting complications of A Passage to India. Like so many English novels of this era, the plot is entirely centered on the question of marry the person you want or the person that others think you should. This question having been turned over by thousands of similar novels offers little new insight. The shock created of a sudden kiss feels ridiculous. I'm not sure how much we can learn today from a people who bottled up their feelings and desires as much as these. The most interesting passage may have been the group bath with its hints of latent sexual desire and sensuality that went far beyond any romance Lucy Honeychurch may ever know...I will say that unlike many of this novel's contemporaries, it is relatively short. I'd only recommend it to someone who is a serious student of the genre or of Forster.

[lethalmauve · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Every time I try to write a review about this small book something holds me back and I end up writing nothing about it. It has been 5 months since I read this so I will most likely depend the review on my memory of emotions.I shall start by telling a personal story about that one time when an old lady from church visited my mother's house for some house-to-house prayer related to the Virgin Mary. She greeted me with a "Why are the windows closed?" which I mindlessly answered with "Why should they be opened?". Apparently, she perceived my response as rude while I wondered what was there to see outside these closed windows other than my grandfather's kitchen and cats stretching their bodies along the pavement. As absurd as this story was I can't help but make a connection of these windows to E.M. Forster's A Room with a View. Short and semi-sweet. A story of a lady torn between a dull, pretentious man of high class who she did not feel the least bit in love with and another man of lower class without the expected societal upbringing. Like finding a room with a view, it was, for her, a breath of fresh air, this another man, and made her realize that another perspective of things existed. Unfortunately, although it had made some of its point on happiness and the uncertainty of the future amidst the promise of love, the story unfolded much too quick for my taste and left no room for the right kind of development and romance. I honestly would have liked this better if it was longer, polished, more room for love to breathe, blossom, and grow.

[kristykay22 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Funny, romantic, and pointed, with a bit of turn-of-the-century girl power sprinkled on top, A Room with a View is a thoroughly enjoyable read. Lucy leaves her close-knit family in the English countryside for "must do" trip to Italy, chaperoned by her needy and trying older cousin, Charlotte. Once installed in a pension in Florence run by a trustworthy Englishwoman, the two are disappointed to find that they have been given rooms that look out over the courtyard instead of over the river. An eccentric gentleman and his son, the Emersons, offer to trade their rooms with lovely views and after a lot of hemming and hawing over the propriety of such a thing, the ladies agree. Lucy is caught between her romantic and independent nature, and the desire to please her family and do what is correct in the eyes of Edwardian society. She is a bit undone by the unconventional George Emerson, a feeling which comes to a head in a spectacular field of violets and a last minute flight of the ladies to Rome. Part II brings us back to Lucy's home, along with an ill-matched fiancé that no one really likes that much. When the Emersons come back into Lucy's life, she finds herself deeper and deeper in a muddle that is partly her fault, and partly the fault of English society. Forster's characters are nicely written and, while he does hit you over the head with the moral of the story a bit, the warmth and humor that comes through, particularly in the relationship between Lucy, her mother, and her brother, keep the book from being dogmatic or cliched. A fun classic!

[etxgardener · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Miss Honeychurch learns about love on a trip to Florence with her cousin Charlote. Now home will she submit to propriety and marry the stuffy Cecil Wyse, or follow her heart and grab happiness with George Emerson. A positively luminous novel.

[stephanie_m-868484 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I have no idea when I started this audiobook, but I'm pretty sure it was last autumn. (So I picked a random date). I turn to it for a few hours a night, when I don't have any library audiobooks to listen to. It's a slow, calm novel of an earlier time when things may seem much easier to us all, now. It's also one of my all-time favorite movies, especially because Helena B. Carter, Daniel Day Lewis, and Julian Sands (who was quite the hottie way back when).
Now I've finished this audiobook for the first time, and it's almost exactly like my favorite movie, but with a lot more conversing in it. And Julian Sands' character had black hair, which is weird to me. Probably because the whole time I listened to this audiobook, I pictured the movie in my head. Almost every scene. And now I have to go watch the movie again.....
If you love period novels, please give this novel or audiobook a try. It's well worth it. 4 stars.

[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!

[5eva5 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

While being toured around Italy with her fussy older cousin and chaperone, Miss Lucy Honeychurch meets father and son Emerson, both of which make a huge impression on her, one that follows her back to England and changes everything. This is such a beautiful novel - one of my all-time favorites - so I can't say anything other than I love the characters, the setting, the story, the language, and everything else. I saw the Merchant Ivory movie version before reading this for the first time, so those faces are in my mind when I read and they fit so very well. Beautiful, beautiful.

[mickyfine · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

An audio drama adaptation of the classic novel. Perfectly enjoyable way to revisit the classic novel. Includes an interview after the play with the actor who plays Mr. Emerson senior who played George Emerson in the 1980s film with Helena Bonham Carter. Recommended if you enjoy the format.

[sweetiegherkin · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Young Lucy Honeychurch and her overbearing, stuffy cousin Charlotte Bartlett go on a trip to Florence where they meet the socially lackadaisical Emersons as well as other interesting characters who manage to make a huge impact on their lives.This book is a bit of a 'drawing room' comedy, in which the gentle humor comes from witty remarks on the part of the narrator regarding the foibles of the characters. The plot itself is pretty slim (although, to be fair, so is the book), but the charm lies in the characters more than the situations. It that respect it reminded me a bit of Jane Austen's novels, although I don't think Forster is quite at Austen's genius.While I did enjoy this book on the whole, it didn't have that feeling that some classics invoke of something so very compelling or amazingly different. I wouldn't be rushing to recommending it to others unless it really seemed like their cup of tea. For a character drama, I wish some of the characters were more well-rounded. However, I could see this being a book that would make for a good discussion.

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

Listened to the Classic Tales podcast version. Not bad.

[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.

[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.

[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?

[over.the.edge · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

# 15 Of 100 Classics Challenge
A Room With A View
By E. M. Forster

Some might say Lucy's conservative values have repressed her life and religion. Her outlook is put to the test when Lucy goes to Italy with her cousin Charlotte. They meet outrageous flamboyant characters like Miss Lavish, Cockney Signora, Me Emerson, Mr Beebe and George, a son.....
Lucy is torn between returning home to her past values or continuing with her new friends unconventional beliefs and energy?
Really good, really quick read. Recommended.

[m.belljackson · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

With old Mr. Emerson and Mr. Beebe, Forster moves the plot along despite silly lying goose Lucy and her tedious traveling companion and cousin, Charlotte. Cecil definitely had his moments, notably because George kept himself an odd mystery.

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

Liked it. Lucy is a peach, her way to view the world sometimes dreadfully simplistic, sometimes full of wonder and naivety and sometimes, especially in moments of sudden flashes of insights, simply hilarious. Foster likes his characters, even the shady ones, each of them has wit and character in their own unique way, and the whole story is has an optimistic, sometimes even funny air about it.

[booklovers2 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Our Book Club Classic Read - Listened to this on audio. An absolute delightful coming of the age love story. A touching story with a splash of comedy. Lucy Honeychurch finds herself in a precarious situation. How do you tell the person you are to marry that you are not as innocent as he thinks? How little lies and omissions come back to haunt her and an unlikely encounter upsets her plans.

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

“When we were only acquaintances, you let me be myself, but now you're always protecting me... 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!”
― E.M. Forster, A Room with a View

I liked the main character's independence and the satirical slant on the snobbery of the English upper class, but most of all I liked that I was reading it in my own room with a view - albeit in Venice, not Florence!

[rakerman_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Very funny observational humour in Florence, a comedy of interior dialogue and exterior manners. Turns a bit gloomy in Windy Corner, with quite a lot of coincidence needed to set up the action, a situation which the author manages to deal with fairly well. A truly inspiring conclusion where things fall into place, with a very profound view of what it means to live a meaningful life.Abridged audiobook (5 hours 14 minutes) read by Juliet Stevenson:A fairly light abridgement (5 and a quarter hours abridged versus approximately 7 hours and 20 minutes unabridged).Excellent narration.Musical interludes tolerable due to the reference to Lucy's playing.Stop the audio when she says "The End" unless you want the Audible.com voice shouting "THIS IS AUDIBLE DOT COM" at you immediately afterwards.

[ctpress_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A young man steals a kiss from Lucy Honeychurch on a vacation in Italy - and Lucy begins to question her narrow life, her selfish fiancé, her conventional family, her bleak future.What I appreciate about Room With a View- Forsters empathy with his characters. Even aristocratic and selfish Cecil Wyse we sympathise with when he’s rejected.- It’s sunny, optimistic and witty - very witty. If you want the “darker” E. M. Forster read Howard’s End.- I like the way Lucy Honeychurch is questioning herself, her choices, her opinions, her ideals - the way her irrational mind is trying to make sense of the restricted, narrow world she has grown accustomed to.- That George Emerson remains an enigma throughout the story. His actions we get explained mainly through his father - he’s the fresh wind blowing new life into Lucy’s existence - but a big questionmark to Lucy as well as to the readers.

[alanteder · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Avoid the 1992 "pre-echo"/"bleed-through" Books on Tape edition (and its later repackaged versions)[4] for "A Room with a View."[1] for the 1992 audiobook by Frederick Davidson. I'm not going to distort the rating for the Edwardian meet-cute romantic-comedy classic "A Room with a View" due to a bad audio experience, so the official vote here is a [4].Otherwise, this is a warning to steer clear of the 1992 Books on Tape audiobook by Frederick Davidson which is badly dated in style but is still being sold as recently as 2017 at Audible Audio. It also betrays its audiotape analog pedigree due to its constant pre-echo / audio bleed-through. This is a quirk from the vinyl/tape era where the audio signal from about 2-3 seconds in the future would "bleed-through" as a artifact in the current signal. The effect is like hearing a phantom distorted conversation constantly in the background of the actual audio that you are listening to. It is enormously annoying and distracting.Frederick Davidson (real name:David Case) was an early legend of the audiobook era and recorded many hundreds of classics. His reading style will seem very old-fashioned now but is still suitable for some characters e.g. Cecil Vyse in the case of "A Room with a View."