Robert just finished reading A Passage to India, by E.M. Forster. He found the book in a stack that Mrs. Everett, a neighbor in Lucas Valley, threw out to the curb in October just before she returned to New Zealand. He had read the book once before, while traveling through India in his twenties. But Robert needs to re-read books because he never members much of what he read.
Of course, the book is a masterpiece. Like all novels that Robert feels to be great, what happens to the characters is less important than the social and emotional context of the story. That is the importance and beauty of the novel as a form.
