I just finished one of the most exhilarating, life-affirming books I have ever read:
Aspects of the Novel by E.M. Forster (Incidentally, if you Google image search "E.M. Forster," I show up on the third page). Tentatively but authoritatively, Forster discusses fiction and life and the function of each in relation to the other. He insists on the universality of the novelist, exhorting his lecture audience to imagine all the prominent writers of the past few centuries seated in one room together, scribbling away in tandem, in his meditation on the constancy of human nature.
I found the quotation that I have under my profile (the reason for my being a search result of his) in a section here involving an old lady and her response to logic. I think, but I'm not entirely certain, that Forster is sympathetic to her, so it will remain where I have it, though my disclaimer will, too.
The consummate novelist-reader, Forster mocks literary criticism and then proceeds to do his own version of it. Able to speak in a tone at once commiserating and instructing, he makes a solid defense for the writer's craft. My favorite passage of the book: "That is what is so tiresome about new books; they never give us that restful feeling which we have when perusing the classics."
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