Maurice, by E.M. Forster

Published in 1971. 256 p.

Rating: 3.7 stars

Summary: It is early 1900’s England. The story revolves around Maurice Hall, to whom the reader is introduced when he is still a young boy and unaware of his looming homosexuality. He goes to Cambridge University and is presented with the opportunity of a romantic relationship with Clive Durham, Maurice’s male best friend. After first rejecting it, he begins to accept his homosexuality, and Maurice and Clive date for a while. However, Clive falls out of love and marries a woman. Maurice does not, and takes years to recover from the break up, eventually finding love with a very unexpected other character.

Review: The story itself is not particularly good, but the ideas presented in it were quite ahead of their time. Quite possibly the most interesting part of the book was the terminal note, which Forster wrote in 1960, when he was apparently looking into publishing it. He explains why certain plot points are the way they are, and also the public arena into which the book would have received had it been published when it was actually written.

What makes the novel interesting to read is that it is a version of events that more or less happened in Forster’s life, and describe a very unacceptable orientation: the Oscar Wilde sort, as it is called in the book. (For those who are lost, yes, Oscar Wilde was openly gay, and his “sort” would be gay men.) Forster was very bold to have written a novel like this when he did (in 1913-1914,) but also smart enough to know that if he wanted to be commercially successful as a writer, he had to hide his fairly obvious homosexuality from the media. (A random fun fact: Forster wanted to be Jane Austen, as one can see from novels like A Room with a View and Howard’s End. Now if that’s not the gayest I’ve ever heard…) The book does function as a social commentary on the times, and the non-acceptance of homosexuality. It is not, however, a very good love story.

The book itself is rather poorly written, and generally considered so. It is, in a way, Forster’s fantasy romance, and when do people’s fantasies ever make great literature? It is frou-frou romantic, the kind of stuff that chick-lit is made of. It’s chick-lit for gay men. There are not many redeeming qualities of the novel, but it is interesting enough to take a look at, and not too long to read. Forster also gets bonus points for having really short chapters.

So, I would really only recommend the book to anyone who is interested in early, possibly unconventional and/or British views on homosexuality, or anyone who is seriously into the Bloomsbury Group. However, Forster should not be discredited for this novel. Go read Howards End. It’s fab.