A Room with a View

By E. M. Forster

In "A Room with a View," E.M. Forster elegantly navigates the journey of Lucy Honeychurch, a young Englishwoman whose structured, Edwardian life is forever changed by a trip to Italy. Amidst the lush landscapes and cultural awakenings of Florence, Lucy encounters the passionate and free-spirited George Emerson. This chance meeting challenges her societal confines, sparking a quest for personal liberation and true love. Forster's novel is a compelling exploration of societal expectations, love, and the courage to seek one's own path.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Interactive Media
• Release date: Sep 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781910558287

E. M. Forster

Edward Morgan "E. M." Forster (1879–1970) was an English novelist, short-story writer, essayist, and librettist. Many of his novels, including A Room with a View, Howards End, and A Passage to India, examine class difference and hypocrisy in late 19th-century and early 20th-century British society. He was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature twenty times.

Book preview

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E. M. Forster

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E. M. Forster

A Room with a View

Published by Sovereign

This edition first published in 2014

Copyright © 2014 Sovereign

All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 9781910558287

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,

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, 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

Reviews for A Room with a View

[jonfaith · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

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

[breic-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

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

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

Listened to the Classic Tales podcast version. Not bad.

[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!

[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?

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[lisamaria_c · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

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

[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.

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

In my head, I'd constructed my own version of A Room With a View, which never works out well for a reader. In this case, I'd imagined Lucy's trip to Florence as being a great deal more subversive than it turned out to be. Only the first third of the novel even takes place in Italy as the second and third act are set back in England as (heavens!) a marriage to a bore looms. Still, I liked it just the same. Forster has a nice way of using language and I also enjoyed his narrative style: popping in and out of characters' thoughts--often in the same scene--or, sometimes, editorializing or even addressing the reader directly.

It's of course important to understand the book in its historical context and the pressures and taboos inherent in that society. A modern reader can be tempted to say, "If you don't like him, don't marry him," but of course it wasn't such an easy thing to do. But some things are constant. Music--in this case, Schumann--serves as both outlet and input for thoughts that can't quite be put into words. So it shall ever be.

[startingover_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Very readable novel featuring the likeable Lucy Honeychurch, whose worldview is expanded whilst she's travelling in Italy with her annoying poor relation, Charlotte Bartlett. In Italy her family's ideas of what constitutes 'good' society is confused by the Emersons, who are not the 'right sort' but whose (relative) unconventionality interests (and confuses) Lucy. Just before the pivotal episode when George kisses Lucy among the violets, Mr Eager exhorts her to have 'Courage and love'. Lucy steps out of the wood onto 'this terrace [that] was the well-head, the primal source whence beauty gushed out to water the earth'. The moment is spoiled by Miss Bartlett calling to Lucy. Charlotte Bartlett represents the repressive elements in Lucy's life. Charlotte stands 'brown against the view'. Later, Mr Eager again tells Lucy that she needs courage, 'and faith', but Lucy is unsure where to place her faith. Back in England she becomes engaged to pompous, snobbish Cecil, denying her feelings for George Emerson. Cecil loves Lucy because he reminds her of 'a woman of Leonardo da Vinci's, whom we love not so much for herself as for the things she will not tell us'. Lucy's feelings are in a 'muddle', torn between the old world of Victorian values and strict social boundaries, and the new world represented by the Emersons, a freer world where she can be her own person and make her own decisions rather than being told what is right, what is good, what is beautiful. [August 2004]

[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.

[amydross · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

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

[brandie_14 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

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

[bookweaver · 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.

[shootingstarr7 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

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

[readingrat_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

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

[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.

[eyejaybee · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

My favourite of Forster's novels, centred around the gradual (and perhaps rather belated) coming of age of the beautiful and determined Lucy Hornchurch as she travels with her over-powering and intransigent aunt, Charlotte Bartlett to visit Florence. While staying at their pension (run by a "Cockney signora") they encounter the Emersons, a father and son of socialist and humanist bent, who have also been taking in the cultural fare of the Grand Tour. The Emersons are clearly well meaning but seem to have no sense of how to behave in "decent" company. Having resolved that she will try to avoid further acquaintance with them it is almost inevitable that Lucy will be thrown upon their good offices, especially those of the enigmatic George, the younger Emerson who "works on the railway".Forster handles all the interactions very adroitly, always aware of the prickly social frictions, and while the eventual denouement leaves no surprises the route by which he takes us there is pleasantly convoluted but never implausible.I must admit that I now can't consider this book other than through the filter of the lovely Merchant Ivory film in which Helena Bonham Carter played Lucy, Simon Callow was charmings as the Reverend Beebe and Denholm Elliott excelled as Mr Emerson..

[ithilwyn · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It has been a very long time since I've read this book, so I think a lot of my continued affinity for it is based on the film. It's a wonderful film and, as I recall, a delightful book to read.

[wrichard_22 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

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

[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.