I was told in elementary school that I only could read at half the speed for success in college. Oh well, one benefit of slow reading is you get to live with the characters a longer period of time. I read in a vain attempt to better understand people. At my other homes, I'm known as a spouse, pop, guy in the choir, physical chemist, computer/web dilettante and child-care provider. In theory, I'm a published author, if you consider stuff like Quenching Cross Sections for Electronic Energy Transfer Reactions Between Metastable Argon Atoms and Noble Gases and Small Molecules to count as publications. I've strewn dozens of such fascinating things to the winds.
Meh... I had a tough time convincing myself to finish this book. It was ok, but seemed rather vapid, or something. I'm not even sure I can summarize it.
So we have a young woman, Lucy Honeychurch, who is vapid, but who grows less so over the course of the book. She is supposed to marry Cecil Vyse, but doesn't really love him, and besides, he's pretty vapid. So she ends up with George Emerson, whom she might love, only he once made improper advances toward her in Italy. But his father, who is extremely weird, convinces her to set that aside. Something like that.
I had a hard time forcing myself to finish this book. It definitely deserves a minus (-) appended to the 3*s. I thought Forster was supposed to be a good author, and I vaguely remember having read A Passage to India in college, and thinking it was ok. But after this example, I'm not sure I'll dabble with him again.