3.5 stars, rounding up to 4. The great strength of this novel is the clarity with which Forster perceives the act of colonialism in India. He shows its effects on individuals, and none of it is good. The colonised become exploited and degraded, and the colonisers degrade themselves, becoming ever more prejudiced and insular in order to justify their own behaviour. It's a really biting piece of literature in that way; the more I read on, the more I was interested in the friendship between Fielding and Aziz, and the more Forster argued that such a friendship could not continue. They could feel affection for each other, yes, but the divide colonisation has put between them is inescapable, and the book ends on the note that true friendship between them is impossible while colonisation continues. Which is awful, and yet I suspect depressingly accurate.

What's dropping this book down from 4 stars entirely is that it's just so cloudy. Deliberately so, I suspect - ambiguity is an essential part of its make-up. Miss Quested's experience in the Marabar Caves is never fully explained, but then it doesn't have to be... it's the repercussions, the settling into sides, that Forster is concerned with. But in service of this idea his prose meanders and goes on little tangents and I can enjoy wandering prose, I can, but although I enjoyed the cool appraisal of his approach I didn't warm to his language enough to enjoy the wandering here... every so often I just wanted to reach into page, shake him, and say "Would you just get on with it?!" A book to admire rather than love I think. I don't see myself in any great hurry to read it again, that's for sure.