Finished off the last of the pre-1960 rooms in the National Portrait Gallery before I left London, and I came across this portrait of E.M. Forster.
I was really looking forward to reading Howards End, not least because of that gorgeous cover, but I have to say that it disappointed me in the end. At one point I re-read A Room with a View once every summer, but I have never quite managed to re-capture that fascination with any other of Forster's works. Although I was intrigued by the Schlegel sisters and found this book really readable, it was just a bit too 'modernist' for my taste. I'm really not keen on modernist books, I find some of the emotion and grand questioning about life and love to be a bit contrived.
There are exceptions - Mrs Dalloway, Ford Madox Ford - but overall Howards End felt a bit too forced in places which is why I am giving it 3.5 🌟 I do think I want to revisit it one day though, because I have a habit of envisaging what books are like and when they deviate from my expectations, I'm usually disappointed. But when I revisit them on their own terms, I usually enjoy them much more.