Only 38 years after receiving the assignment, I've completed
it. I’ve now read A Passage to India.
I received the assignment to read the novel for my Modern
Fiction course taught by David (“First Blood”) Morrell. The book was near the
top of the reading list, and in a semester that began with a mistake (I misread
my transcript), I had to read more works than I had time for. In the words of
the Panda, I “had to be strategic”. Fortunately, Professor Morrell told us
about the echo, the Freytag triangle, and how this novel helped create the
transition to modern fiction. Anyway, it was enough to do well in the course. Within
the last year, of course, this omission began to haunt me. Shouldn’t I now read
this classic? Well, I again procrastinated. I’d seen the movie years ago (and
remember virtually nothing about it), but mostly I wanted to focus on reading
about other aspects of India, both longer ago (Moguls and rajas) and the recent
past and contemporary India. Thus, until recently, I’ve avoided reading about
the British Raj. Now, however, perhaps for the mere fact that Indian Summer had been looking at me for
so long (my books look at me longingly and pleadingly when I don’t pay
attention to them), I decided to read Forster's classic. Then, when I saw a good edition of A Passage to India (Penguin, with an
introduction by Pankaj Mishra), I bought it and
moved it toward the top of the pile.
And so how was it? Outstanding.
Forster’s novel creates
complex and sometimes puzzling characters set in a society and landscape that
he evokes with beautiful and insightful prose. The central characters, the
Moslem physician Dr. Aziz and the British schoolteacher, Cyril Fielding,
struggle and fight for every moment of friendship that can break through
barriers of culture and personal insecurities. Indeed, the central incidents
occur early in the novel. These events concern a visit to the Marabar caves and
whatever happened (or didn’t happen) to Ms. Quested there, the subsequent
trial, and its effects. These events take up the first two-thirds of the book, but
the story continues beyond that attempting to appreciate the individuals and
circumstances from which the problems all arose.
Forster is hard upon the administrators of the British Raj.
If anyone thinks that Forster is a cheerleader for the Raj, that person is
sorely mistaken. Forster, who visited India on two different occasions (and who
perhaps had an Indian lover) displays the vile racism that had developed among
many of the Brits. Fielding is an exception, and yet even he must deal with
ambiguities and misunderstandings that could frustrate even the most
sympathetic of souls. The characters of Adela Quested, Mrs. Moore, and Professor
Godbole each have complex if lesser roles that create a true richness in the
story.
Finally, I should remark on how Forster uses the landscape
to help set the tone of the story. Writing as I am now from central India and
having lived here the last 10 months, I know how heat, dust, random mountains,
ravines and (often dry) watercourses mark the landscape and impress themselves
on those who, like me, come from such different circumstances. Forster’s
language, which creates wonderful conversations, takes a poetic turn when
describing some of these landscapes and the attendant weather.
So now, 38 years after I received the assignment, I can mark
it complete. I get no credit for that now—other than the enjoyment and
perspective that I received from reading a great novel about this complex land.
This is now the credit I most want.
