E.M. Forster is chiefly remembered today as one of the premier novelists of the Edwardian period in the early twentieth century, though in fact he published only five novels in his lifetime (his long-suppressed homoerotic novel Maurice was not published until after his death). Of these, three are recognized classics: A Room With a View (1908), a romance as well as a critique of Edwardian society, set mainly in Italy; Howard’s End (1910), a more serious critique particularly of class prejudice in early twentieth century British society; and A Passage to India, a moral critique of the British presence in India, set in British controlled India during the fledgling Indian independence movement. Published in 1924, A Passage to India was the last novel Forster published, though he died much later, in 1970. (He did write a number of short stories, essays, and biographies in his last 45 years, as well as the libretto for Benjamin Britten’s 1951 opera of Billy Budd). Much admired throughout his life, Forster was reportedly nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature some 22 separate times.
Though I admire all three of his classic novels, I find A Passage to India to be his most engrossing and readable. And I am clearly not alone in my judgment, since the novel is recognized throughout the English speaking world as one of the canon’s “must read” texts. It was ranked number 25 on the Modern Library list of the greatest novels in English (A Room With a View and Howard’s End also both appear on that list, by the way). On the BBC list of the 100 Greatest British Novels, Passage to India was ranked as number 50, and on Time Magazine’s list of the greatest novels in English since 1923, A Passage to India came in at number 6. The book also appears on the Guardian list of best novels in English, and the Observer list of the 100 greatest world novels. For me, A Passage to India is ranked as number 35 (alphabetically) on my list of the “100 Most Lovable Novels in the English Language.”
The novel follows Adela Quested, a British schoolmistress who is visiting the fictional Indian city of Chandrapore with her friend, the elderly Mrs. Moore, whose son, Ronny Heaslop is the British city magistrate. Adela is here to determine whether she is willing to marry Ronny. Soon after their arrival, Mrs. Moore is exploring a mosque in the city when a young Indian Muslim physician named Dr Aziz finds her and stiffly warns her not to profane the mosque, but the encounter turns into a friendly one after all. Later when the principal of the local British-run college for Indians, Cyril Fielding, invites the visitors to tea with the Hindu professor Narayan Godbole, Adela asks that Dr. Aziz be invited as well. Aziz and Fielding become quite friendly at the party, and Aziz suggests that he take Adela and Mrs. Moore to visit the Marabar Caves (which are fictional, but based on the actual Barabar caves in Bihar), since Adela has expressed a desire to see “the real India.”
Aziz arranges the trip at some cost to himself. Fielding and Godbole, who were to accompany them on the outing, miss the train, so that only Aziz and the two British women make the journey. At the caves, Mrs. Moore finds herself overcome by claustrophobia after visiting the first cave and rests while Aziz and Adela climb to the upper caves with their guide. Aziz becomes uncomfortable with some of Adela’s questions (“Do you have more than one wife?”) and ducks into a cave alone for a moment. When he comes out, the guide tells him that Adela has entered another cave by herself, and follows her, only to find her broken field glasses. When he exits the cave, he sees Adela speaking with Fielding and a woman called Miss Derek, who has arrived by car with Fielding. The two women drive off before Aziz meets the party, leaving Aziz and Fielding to return to the city by train with Mrs. Moore.
When Aziz arrives back in Chandrapore, he is immediately arrested. Adela has claimed that he followed her into the cave and tried to sexually assault her, and that she had escaped from him after swinging her field glasses at him. Racial tensions become dangerously stained as the trial approaches, with the native Indians vigorously supporting Aziz’s innocence and the British colonists solidly behind Adela’s accusations. The only tangible evidence in the case is the broken field glasses, which were in Aziz’s possession.
If you haven’t read the book, I certainly can’t tell you the outcome of the trial, since that would be a spoiler of the first magnitude. But one of the things the book is about is our ability, or inability, to know the truth. We do not know, and neither the Indian or British onlookers at Aziz’s trial know, what the truth is. Is Adela simply lying? Did she experience something in that cave that she could not really be certain about? Is she imagining things? Was she actually attacked in the cave, but by a stranger? Is Aziz telling the truth?
But of course the novel is also about racial tensions and prejudices abounding in India, and which are only becoming more intense as Indians advocate for their independence and Britain insists on holding on to its crumbling empire. One thing we do know at the end of the book is that Aziz, falsely accused by Adela and feeling betrayed by Fielding, has vowed never again to befriend a white person: friendship between the colonists and the colonized will never be possible until India is independent.
Forster had spent six months in India in 1912-13. He had gone there to visit his friend Syed Ross Masood, on whom the character of Aziz is probably based, at least in part. He’d met and befriended Masood in England in 1906, and it is clear that he felt an unreciprocated love for his friend. When Masood completed his law studies in England and returned to his homeland, Forster followed him a few months later. While in India, Forster had traveled extensively and seen much of the country, and experienced Indian attitudes toward the British first hand. He records in his diary witnessing one of Masood’s friends blurting out “It may be 50 or 500 years, but we shall turn you out.” And it was Masood who suggested that he write an Indian novel.
Forster began the novel in 1913. It took him eleven year to finish it, partly because he was sidetracked into writing Maurice, which he thought was “unpublishable.” And partly, too, because the Great War intervened, most of which he spent working with the Red Cross in Egypt. By the time he got back to the novel, he had lost its thread, and it took a return trip to India in 1921, this time a secretary to the Maharajah of Dewas, Tukojirao III, whom he had met on his earlier visit to the country. Much later, in a 1952 interview with the Paris Review, Forster is quoted as saying “When I began A Passage to India I knew that something important happened in the Marabar caves, and that it would have a central place in the novel—but I didn’t know what it would be.” After that second stay in India, Forster had solved that problem: in fact, perhaps he still didn’t know for sure what had happened in that cave. In any case, we as readers don’t know for sure. And that’s the point. In the end, twelve years after his first visit, he dedicated the novel to Masood, and to “the 17 years of our friendship.” And he never wrote another novel.
A Passage to India is today a significant text for post-colonial scholars. In a departure from typical Western narratives of the time, the novel depicts Indian culture in a positive light and challenges European imperialism. Post-colonialist pundit Edward Said implied that Forster did not go far enough in his critique, and still “culturally refused a privilege to India nationalism.” Still, the novel is a magnificent read, and I recommend it highly.
As is my wont, let me recommend to you also the admirable 1984 film version of the novel, directed by David Lean in the epic style of his Bridge on the River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia, and Dr. Zhivago. It was his final film and his first in 14 years, and while not quite up to the level of those mentioned, it was nominated for 11 Oscars. It won two, including the Oscar for Supporting Actress, which went to Peggy Ashcroft as Mrs. Moore, who at 77 was the oldest person ever to receive that award. The film might be an excellent introduction to the novel, or an excellent review of the novel once you’ve finished it. But I warn you, after watching the movie, you still won’t know for sure what happened in that cave.