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How could have this went on -ever!- in anyone's life time, in England or anywhere else. This story demoralizes human society and makes people without sympathy and forgiveness. Least of all, the ending line is very dark, that a person wishing and wishing can never get: beauty and loving.
Did not enjoy the book, frustrated with the dvd/video, I will settle with "The Aristocrats."
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The novel is really Galsworthy embarking on a critique of late Victorian/early Edwardian English society, especially its hypocrisy. As Shelton travels around, different parts of society are examined, from the Church of England, the upper middle classes, imperialists, Oxford, London, and so on. Galsworthy criticises via the various dialogues between his characters, Shelton acting as the critic par excellence, the others as defenders of the status quo.
Galsworthy seemed to be saying that the hypocrisy of the people was a veneer for a deeper lack of confidence, or a mask for the serious divisions within society as a whole.
As a piece of literature, this book is very uneven - the plot seems a bolt-on, a mere hook upon which Galsworthy could hang his need to explore the issues that were interesting him. The way to approach it, I think, is not as a great story but as an interesting period piece.
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This novel's central plot is about Clare Corven's flight back to England from Ceylon, following her ill-treatment by her husband, Jerry. On the ship home, she meets Tony Croom, who falls in love with her. Clare's husband then sues for divorce and damages.
To give more away would spoil it for the reader, but it's one of the better novels in the Forsyte series, in which Galsworthy maintains a fine control of the narrative, even giving the reader a mini-mystery at the end. What shines through is Galsworthy's deep preception of life - for example, love is rarely reciprocated in equal strength and intensity; and love on its own is insufficient when people are seeking to build a relationship - compromises are often necessary.
Although Galsworthy does not have the sustained ascerbic wit of later writers such as Evelyn Waugh and Anthony Powell (who wrote about broadly similar classes), he has a more basic and obvious humanity, and a sympathy with the trials and tribulations of his characters. Galsworthy does not condemn human weakness and failure: Sir Lawrence Mont's refections on the differences between old and young people, his admissions to himself that he was once young and very like them, and that in many ways they are easier to get on with than he and his contemporaries were when they were young, is a beautifully written passage. A pity that more people, even now, do not reflect like this.
What is lacking in Galsworthy is fine descriptive prose (or at least it is true to say that it is more scarce in Galsworthy than in other authors). He has a direct, reporter-like style, and the reader has to rely on the words and actions of the characters to get a feel of the time and place. Yet for all that, I don't mind such a direct approach - it made me concentrate more on the nuances of what was being said. And I did feel a sense of regret that it was the last novel of the series.