A Passage to India

This is a review written by my daughter Joanna Carter:
E.M. Forster’s novel A Passage to India is written beautifully, but it failed to lead me into a sense of play because of major problems in the story itself. A Passage to India follows two friends, an Indian doctor and a British school principal through the ordeal between their societies when the Indian, Dr. Aziz, is falsely accused of attempted rape. I disliked the book because none of the characters were likeable, the underlying messages bordered on Satanic, and the plot was weak. Forster’s writing style was wonderful, but reading style without a good story is like eating straight cheese sauce without the macaroni.
The first thing I realized about the novel was that it was slow going. I had a nasty shock when I found myself on page one hundred and twelve and was still waiting for something to happen. I think one of the things that made it so hard to get into is the lack of a character the reader can really relate to. The four main characters are Mr. Fielding, Dr. Aziz, Mrs. Moore, and Adela Quested. Of all of these, Fielding is the most likeable, but only because of his lack of any major faults. He is a flat character, the "good guy," effortlessly making the right decision to stick up for Aziz, even though he has no more reason to than anyone else. If it were me, I would not have been so quick to believe Aziz innocent; the Indian is a sensual and syncophanic liar who suffers from dramatic mood swings. I always emerged from a scene with Aziz and found myself wanting a dose of tea and Andy Griffith to recover. Mrs. Moore and Miss Quested are not such nauseating characters as Aziz, but kind old Mrs. Moore completely loses her religion in the Marabar caves, and Miss Quested is as dull and practical as a grocery cart. There was no one I could be comfortable with during my read, no one I could trust or develop any affection for. As a result, I had a hard time getting into the story.
A second thing I disliked about A Passage to India was the underlying theme of meaninglessness and failure. Forster’s sinister philosophy revealed itself fully in the scene where Mrs. Moore enters the Marabar caves and hears the echoing "Boum" that answers any sound, no matter how profound. "But suddenly, at the edge of her mind, Religion appeared, poor little talkative Christianity, and she knew that all its divine words from ‘Let there be Light’ to ‘It is finished’ only amounted to ‘boum.’" I was so disturbed upon reading this that I almost put the book down. Forster tells the reader that Christianity and religion are meaningless, and that by extension there is no good in the world. According to him, good and evil are the inventions of man. Nature knows nothing of them, for she is eternal and they are only the whispers of a finite creature. This message is so overwhelmingly evil that this book would be repulsive to me even if it had wonderful characters and a great story.
The third thing I disliked about A Passage to India was the plot. Aside from the problems of one hundred and thirty-two pages with only dining room gossip for conflict and pointlessly killing off Mrs. Moore, Forster left the untied thread of Miss Quested’s attacker in the caves. If it wasn’t Aziz, then who was it? Did Miss Quested imagine him? It seems as though Forster needed an attacker, but was too lazy to deal with him once he started on the mess of Aziz’s trial. If it were a less important detail, it would not matter, but the entire book is built around the disaster in the caves. The attacker’s undetermined identity wriggles awkwardly in the story like a stick caught in a bicycle wheel. Forster’s words are beautiful, but his plot doesn’t hold water.
All in all, A Passage to India did not lead me into a sense of play. The beautiful writing style spoke to me directly, but it repelled me. Such a twisting of talent made me feel as if a friend had betrayed me. I wanted to physically and mentally separate myself from the book instead of to explore the ideas it presented. Although Forster describes Mrs. Moore’s despair at the Marabar Caves in an eloquent and natural style, the sinister content of his words kept me from playing with his novel.