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| First Written | 1924 |
| Genre | Fiction |
| Origin | UK |
| Publisher | Everyman's Library |
| My Copy | Everyman's |
| First Read | July 25, 2015 |
A Passage to India
Obviously, this is in the Literary Genre of 'Matt discovers what everybody else already knows.'
Noted on July 28, 2015
I don't know why I've always written off Forster - I really don't know a thing about him. Or her?
But I picked this up to kill time while waiting while my wife shopped at Goodwill, and it's totally great! It's well written, if a little precious, and I honestly kept being surprised by the plot's shape. Totally recommend it.
Noted on July 28, 2015
He had read and thought a good deal, and, owing to a somewhat unhappy marriage, had evolved a complete philosophy of life.
Quoted on July 28, 2015
For her behaviour rested on cold justice and honesty; she had felt, while she recanted, no passion of love for those whom she had wronged. Truth is not truth in that exacting land unless there go with it kindness and more kindness and kindness again, unless the Word that was with God also is God. And the girl's sacrifice— so creditable according to Western notions— was rightly rejected, because, though it came from her heart, it did not include her heart. A few garlands from students was all that India ever gave her in return.
Quoted on July 28, 2015
The whole beginning passage to part III is amazing, and lovely.
Some hundreds of miles westward of the Marabax Hills, and two years later in time, Professor Narayan Godbole stands in the presence of God. God is not born yet—that will occur at midnight—but He has also been born centuries ago, nor can He ever be born, because He is the Lord of the Universe, who transcends human processes. He is, was not, is not, was. He and Professor Godbole stood at opposite ends of the same strip of carpet.
"Tukaram, Tukaram,
Thou art my father and mother and everybody.
Tukaram, Tukaram,
Thou art my father and mother and everybody.
Tukaram, Tukaram,
Thou art my father and mother and everybody.
Tukaram, Tukaram,
Thou art my father and mother and everybody.
Tukaram ..."
Quoted on July 28, 2015
In Europe life retreats out of the cold, and exquisite fireside myths have resulted—Balder, Persephone—but in India the retreat is from the source of life, the treacherous sun, and no poetry adorns it because disillusionment cannot be beautiful. Men yearn for poetry though they may not confess it; they desire that joy shall be graceful and sorrow august and infinity have a form, and India fails to accommodate them.
Quoted on July 28, 2015