The Longest Journey – E.M. Forster

The only Forster that I had not previously read, and it is an exemplar of the rule that an author’s favourite from their own work is almost never their best. Whilst containing flashes of greatness, this roman a clef descends into sub-Lawrentian hokum with disastrous effect. 

I’ll forgive him, though, considering that his next three books are possibly the finest hatrick of novels this side of Austen: A Room With a View, Howards End and A Passage to India.