A Passage to India by E.M. Forster

E.M. Forster's “A Passage to India” was first published a century ago so it seemed like a good time to revisit this book which is consistently cited as one of the greatest novels of all time. I first read it at university but I remembered little about it. So it's been worthwhile rereading this as an adult to refresh my memory about its story and it was the February choice for my online bookclub. Naturally reading it now that I'm older I'm able to appreciate more about its ideas and themes. It was the final novel by Forster to be published in his lifetime despite the author living for almost fifty more years after its publication. His novel “Maurice” was published posthumously and he also left an incomplete novel titled “Arctic Summer”. The subject of “A Passage to India” concerns tensions between East and West in the later days of Britain's colonial rule over the Indian subcontinent. The central question of the story is whether friendship is truly possible between Indians and the English in this context. This plays out through the drama between an Indian man named Dr Aziz who meets an English woman named Adela Quested who recently arrived in India. There's a mystery or non-mystery about what happens between them on an excursion out to the fictional location of the Marabar Caves. I'll discuss more spoilers than I usually do in this post since this is an older well known book.

I found it a bit challenging to get into the book at first since it launches right into a dialogue where it's not always obvious who is speaking and it presents a wide range of people. However, I quickly became fascinated (and repelled) by so much of the talk between these characters – many of which are frank in their racial and religious prejudice. Forster completely immerses the reader in this oppressive colonial environment where interactions are regulated along strict lines. There's also a lot of humour which comes through in Dr Aziz's personality and the strategic ways he tries to navigate this society. There's also a tragic/comic absurdity to many of the outrageous statements certain characters make as well as the cross-cultural misunderstandings which arise. Since this novel is partly based on Forster's time living in India I'm sure he heard many real people making similar pronouncements.

The narrative switches between a wider discussion of India as a land, culture and nation and scenes between the story's characters. I felt like occasional generalisations and troubling comparisons felt more questionable when they were situated in sections from the authorial perspective. Forster was clearly deeply sympathetic with the struggles in Indian society but describing the country in such broad terms also feels simplistic – especially when the characterisation and drama of the story is so nuanced. One of my favourite moments in the novel is when the exhausted Dr Aziz enters a mosque and initially believes a sweet old English woman named Mrs Moore hasn't taken off her shoes. This misunderstanding could have easily erupted into a bigger fight. If the overly racist characters of Mr or Mrs Turton had this encounter I'm sure they'd have taken great offense and attacked Dr Aziz. But magnanimous and kind-hearted Mrs Moore is more eager to foster a connection than try to assert her dominance in the situation. Equally, Dr Aziz immediately overcomes his frustration and sees the potential for a possible friendship. The way in which Mrs Moore and Mr Fielding, a British headmaster of a college for Indians, interact with people says a lot about their character. So I found their fledging friendships with Dr Aziz touching. Forster shows how quickly people can find commonality when they overcome their preconceptions and initial prejudice.

There's also a moving section which describes Dr Aziz's process of mourning his wife: “He had known that she would pass from his hands and eyes, but had thought she could live in his mind, not realizing that the very fact that we have loved the dead increases their unreality, and that the more passionately we invoke them the further they recede.” This is such an interesting and heart-wrenching insight into the experience of losing a loved one. I wish Forster had shown some of Dr Aziz's interactions with his children to better understand how his present family life operates. But his grief and loss add to the reason why he might be channelling so much of his energy into impressing new arrivals from England. By creating this social connection he wants to establish a level of respectability within the constructs of this colonial society.

Adela Quested arrives in India because she's considering marrying a rather deplorable British city magistrate named Ronny who is Mrs Moore's son. Adela could be called sweetly naïve or it could be said that the way in which she wants to experience the “real” India is belittling. Like many tourists she claims to want an “authentic” experience but when what she witnesses doesn't match her imagined idea of what she'd find she's discontent. I found this line about her interaction with Dr Aziz quite significant: “In her ignorance, she regarded him as 'India', and never surmised that his outlook was limited and his method inaccurate, and that no one is India.” It feels really true that the character of a country can only be understood in the multiplicity of its inhabitants as everyone will have their own slanted perspective on it. And it's also true that whenever meeting someone from a different country or culture it's important to remember that they are merely an individual who shouldn't be taken as representative of a nation.

It's masterful the way Forster creates a slow building tension between Dr Aziz who is eager to please these English women and Adela Quested who earnestly wants to understand the country as a method for clarifying to herself whether she wants to marry Ronny. This crescendoes in their trip to the Marabar Caves. For the characters it's a trifling excursion that Dr Aziz rashly suggests when he wants to avoid the embarrassment of hosting the ladies in his humble home. They accept the invite more out of a sense of politeness because neither Miss Quested or Mrs Moore are very enthusiastic about it – especially when no one can explain why the caves are significant or worthy of a trip. From this rather tedious and dutiful journey emerges a crisis which brings to a head all the simmering conflict caused by the untenable existing colonial system. The accusation which emerges from it and Dr Aziz's arrest are truly shocking. But it's also perfectly understandable that such an incident would occur when there is so much cross-cultural tension brought about by an imbalance of power. Such pressure leads to paranoia and clashes where oppressed people are further victimised. The racist white colonial inhabitants seize upon this accusation as an excuse to act out the anger and frustration they have against Indians.

Just as the story takes a surprising turn, the immediate drama is quickly deflated. This is quite a daring thing for a novel to do in terms of its plot because such a turnaround would appear to dispel any tension. But it seemed to me that the tension only mounted as the characters were left wondering about the significance of this event and their relationships to each other. It also emphasizes the sentiment that India should become an independent nation. The mystery of the story isn't about whether Dr Aziz is guilty or not because it's always clear he's innocent. The real mystery is why honest connections and true friendship between people from these two different nations is impossible in this context. The answer Forster seems to present is that wider divisions don't necessarily exist due to racism (although there aren't certainly some extremely racist characters in this book) but because of economic, political and social conflicts brought about by the colonial system.

The character of Fielding did his best to mount a defence for Dr Aziz but if Adela hadn't spoken up it seems doubtful Aziz would have been cleared. Even if he was judged innocent his reputation would be tarnished – as indeed it was regardless of his unquestionable innocence. Although I'm critical of Adela it does feel like she was brave to own up to the fact she didn't think Aziz had tried to attack her after all. This leaves her totally isolated as racist Mrs Turton is naturally furious (and her embarrassment in court is very funny) but Mrs Moore is also unprepared to engage with Adela anymore. Forster writers of Adela: “She was no longer examining life but being examined by it. She had become a real person.” So Adela feels to me like someone who means well but then realises how good intentions really have little value when she hasn't dealt with her own unacknowledged prejudices and isn't prepared to embrace the true complexity of the world.

Adela is haunted by an echo after her time in the cave as if it were her conscience pestering her. Mrs Moore also hears an echo but has a very different reaction to it because she experiences it as a crisis of faith. It results in a malaise when she realises her essential belief in goodness and Christianity can't stand up to the insidious divisions of the real world. We learn of her sad fate but she'd already withdrawn from trying to forge connections with others or engage in any of these social issues anymore. Though this is tragic it's perhaps hopeful that we later learn her children other than Ronny travel to India and develop a real appreciation for Hinduism and India's culture. The echo (being one of the main symbols of the novel) seems to have defeated Mrs Moore. Personally, I took the echo to mean that individuals are trapped in their own limited understanding of the world. It's a kind of opposite of a wasp which in this novel symbolises global unity. In the echo people are hopelessly divided. This gets at the central question posed in the first section of the novel if there can be true friendships between Indians and the English.

On this point, the friendship or attempted friendship between Dr Aziz and Mr Fielding seems to be crucial. There's a misunderstanding where Dr Aziz believes Fielding has wedded Ms Quested which naturally leaves him feeling betrayed and amplifies his belief he's been cheated out of the monetary reparations owed to him. But, more than that, there's a divide between them because of status and certain assumptions they make about each other due to nationality, religion and race. Forster amplifies it to such a degree as to state that the landscape itself comes between them. It's suggested the colonial situation creates too wide a gulf between people to allow any true connection to come forth. It's unsurprising that Dr Aziz becomes completely jaded towards the English and wants to reject them entirely (including Fielding) after the humiliation and damage of being accused as he was. However, Fielding also seems to be stuck in his own prerequisite for how he believes India should be ordered as is evidenced by his view of Venice which he contrasts to India. The fact that they aren't able to find any true connection is the great tragedy of this novel.

Alongside following the last meeting between this pair of characters, the final section is concerned with a Hindu festival – which is interesting knowing that Forster found the religion so compelling during his trips to India. To me this conclusion is making multiple points: that foreigners can never fully understand the experience of being Indian and that the traditions and culture of the country is ultimately stronger than any colonial power that tries to dominant it. However, I appreciate that this final section can feel somewhat meandering after such a character driven story.

Overall, I was very impressed with the novel in handling and honestly portraying such a complex society. Certainly Forster was writing from a certain background and his own generalisations about India and its people can be scrutinized in the narrative. But I believe this book was more intended to highlight the levels of prejudice and misunderstandings which exist in everyone and how this has led to an incredibly difficult situation in a colonized country where Britain imposed its values and forced its dominance over India. Naturally the novel can't offer a solution to these dilemmas but instead presents them in all their complexity. I loved how Forster follows the nuance of his primary characters' emotions as they mature but don't always progress. It's fascinating how each of the characters struggle with their own sense of morality in a colonial system filled with racial and religious tension. In a way the characters of Ronny and Fielding are opposite in that they've both worked for an extended period of time in the country but they interact with it and its citizens in very different ways. Forster shows how people can become trapped in certain frames of mind which create divisions that cannot be traversed. However, he also shows there can be great beauty when there are true connections – even if they only occur in fleeting moments.

It's been wonderful revisiting “A Passage to India” and I'd also highly recommend reading Damon Galgut's “Arctic Summer” which fictionally reimagines Forster's life including around the writing/publication of “A Passage to India”. I think it's a brilliant and moving novel, but I also have a penchant for novels about novelists. Additionally I watched David Lean's film version of 'A Passage to India' for the first time which was quite interesting despite being very long. It received many Academy Award nominations and it's fairly good – especially the cinematography which is spectacular. It's a shame the story is more immediately concerned with following Adela rather than Aziz and the ending is much more simplified (like a typical happy Hollywood ending.) It's also very unfortunate that Alec Guinness portrays the Indian character of Professor Godbole. But many scenes and lines from the book are faithfully portrayed and it's compelling how it visually shows many of the tensions raised in the novel.

If you're a Forster fan I'd be keen to know where you think this ranks amongst his books. I've read most of his work and I think I prefer “A Room with a View” although “A Passage to India” is more ambitious and impressive in handling such a large subject.

In Youth is Pleasure by Denton Welch

There are some voices which reach out from the past because they feel so alive with mischievous humour and a startlingly singular point of view. Prose can strongly encapsulate such a sensibility when it's written with as much feeling and precision as Denton Welch used to embody his 15 year-old character Orvil's perspective. We follow him during his idle summer holiday spent at a hotel with his aloof father and older brothers. The slim novel “In Youth is Pleasure” was first published in 1945 and its author only lived for a few more years (dying when he was 33 years old), but this text is still breathing and giving us the side-eye. 

Orvil does a lot of looking, a lot of observing and a lot of judging in this story. He could be classified as a voyeur as he watches from behind a bush some boys and their schoolmaster out on a peculiar boat trip where “Jane Eyre” is read aloud. In another scene he spies from the shadows his eldest brother making love to a woman. From a window he looks through another window at a man dancing to music and dressing after his ablutions. There's a safety found in his solitary observations where he can silently appraise some people as “rather fat” or certain behaviour as “vulgar”. He seems to be equally harsh on himself as it is stated “He was afraid that now, at fifteen, he was beginning to lose his good looks.”

Through his gaze the world is transformed in a brutally bizarre and imaginative way. For instance, he describes a man's flabby pecs as “so gay and ridiculous; like two little animated castle-puddings” and a woman's breasts become “miniature volcanoes with holes at the top, out of which poured clouds of milky-white smoke, and sometimes long, thin, shivering tongues of fire”. Bodies morph into absurdities, but he also regards people with a kind of detached fascination so that we understand the sharp barrier between him and the world. When this barrier is removed it elicits terror and violence but also ecstatic jubilation. In doing so, Welch captures Orvil's intensely solitary state where he longs to be with other people but is also repulsed by them.

Orvil's father seldom figures in his days as there is a mutual disinterest and he's wary of spending much time with his brothers. The figure he really longs for is his mother who died a few years ago, but he maintains vivid and sometimes disturbing memories of her. Two individuals he meets appear to be kinds of parental replacements. He forms a sweet attachment to his eldest brother Charles' maternal friend Aphra. He also has a few encounters with the mysterious, nameless schoolmaster who seems to alternately fill the roles of father, teacher, persecutor and a fairy tale witch. Their interactions are so curious it makes me wonder if this is even a real person or a figure that Orvil has simply conjured as part of his imaginative games.

As Edmund White observes in his astute introduction to the new edition of this novel, Orvil is “strangely attracted to filth”. Though he has a desire for what is refined such as a trip to lunch at the Ritz he can't help but envision the flowing filth of the city accumulating beneath the civilized surface. I think the allure of what's repulsive isn't so much about revelling in being gross, but an attraction for what's transgressive as a way to question the values and morals of the society he feels detached from. He is also fascinated by and sees beauty in things which have been discarded or broken. The way he relates to and values very particular objects movingly demonstrates the distinctive way he sees the world.

Orvil has a unique aesthetic, but there's also a poignancy in this depiction of a boy at a stage in his life where he has the sensibility of an adult and the imagination of a child. A lot of his wanderings include losing himself in fantasies where he can indulge in pretensions or revel in sado-masochistic desires. In one private game he wraps himself in chains and violently flogs his own back. In such mental spaces he can also playfully explore the boundaries of gender. He steals of a tube of lipstick to secretly paint his lips and other parts of his body. At other times he strips down naked outside as an act of transgression and liberation. The way that Denton writes about these experiences makes them feel more natural than they are perverse because they are freed from a general morality and merely reflect the proclivities of an utterly unique teenage boy. I absolutely adored this book and its tender spirit of youthful curiosity which casually dances through fantasies and nightmares.

Childhood by Tove Ditlevsen (translated by Tiina Nunnally)

Tove Ditlevsen was a Danish author publishing books in the mid-20th century. Her poetry, novels and memoirs made her quite famous within her country and she's now accepted as part of the literary canon in Danish primary schools. However, she's little known in the English speaking world because few of her works have been translated until now. Penguin Classics have just released three memoirs concerning her early life grouped together under the title “The Copenhagen Trilogy”. The first book in this series “Childhood” concerns Ditlevsen's earliest memories and follows her childhood being raised in a working class family up until her confirmation. I was immediately struck by the powerful frankness of her prose style and was deeply sympathetic towards her as she felt like she was born out of place: “I feel like I'm a foreigner in this world”.

Ditlevsen movingly describes a feeling of loneliness in her childhood as well as a powerful drive to read and write – which were activities strongly discouraged for little girls within her community. When she expresses her desire to write her father bluntly tells her “A girl can’t be a poet.” Writing soon becomes a hidden activity which she practices keeping secret notebooks. In a way, it's amazing that she takes up this frowned-upon vocation especially because she wasn't taught about any prominent female authors so had no role models or precedent to follow. Neither was she encouraged to write during her education. Apparently her only inspirations were hymns she read and “a wonderful edition of Grimm’s Fairy Tales, without which my childhood would have been gray and dreary and impoverished.” Nevertheless, she resolves quite early on to become a famous writer and uses writing as an outlet to express the rich interior life which those around her don't understand. 

This private inner life is something that Ditlevsen grows to take enormous solace in. I admire how she recognizes that her own perspective only represents one side of the story: “I know every person has their own truth just as every child has their own childhood… Fortunately, things are set up so that you can keep quiet about the truths in your heart.” She almost seems to revel in her privacy and writing becomes a way to express herself to unknown friends that she hopes will one day understand her: “I always dream about meeting some mysterious person who will listen to me and understand me.”

It's perhaps not surprising that she takes such refuge in her writing given the limitations placed upon her because of her gender and the physical brutality she received from her mother: “My mother hit me often and hard, but as a rule it was arbitrary and unjust”. It's painful reading about these hardships but Ditlevsen is so upfront and unashamed in writing about her experiences that there's a boldness and survivor's strength to her tale. She also recounts her canniness at hiding her true intelligence amongst people who don't appreciate it and actively try to suppress it. There are times when she describes hiding under a mask of stupidity and how she adjusts her expression to appear dumb.

A hopeful aspect to this memoir is in the figure of her older brother Edvin. Initially he laughs at her literary efforts after discovering her poetry book (which, of course, is crushing for her to hear), but he concedes they are good and he actively tries to help her to get published for the first time. I think this shows how it's natural for someone who feels slighted and mocked to feel defensive, but some people can be surprisingly supportive and encouraging. Ditlevsen also clearly had an innate confidence that she was made for a life much different from the circumstances she was born into. For people like this who feel so out of place childhood can be like a prison or, as Ditlevsen describes it “Childhood is long and narrow like a coffin, and you can’t get out of it on your own.” It's heartening to know that she did, although there are also ominous passages which hint that paired with her bold self-assurance is a drive to self-destruction.

It feels so fortunate that the English speaking world is finally being given access to the self-told story of a writer who is clearly such a talented, distinct and fascinating individual. Her singular perspective reminds me somewhat of the bold but melancholy writing of Jean Rhys or Jane Bowles. I look forward to reading more about Ditlevsen's life in the next two volumes of this memoirist trilogy and I hope to see more of her extensive backlist of books translated in the future.

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin

I was lucky enough to see an early screening of Barry Jenkins' film 'Moonlight' at the London Film Festival back in 2016. It was one of my favourite films of that year and I was thrilled that it won the Oscar for Best Picture a few months later – after Warren Beatty finally opened the right envelope! Jenkins new film is an adaptation of James Baldwin's “If Beale Street Could Talk” and I'm really looking forward to seeing it. But I always try to read a book before seeing the film version and I've been meaning to read more of Baldwin's writing for a long time. In college I read “Go Tell It on the Mountain”, “Giovanni's Room” and “Another Country” but I've not read anything since then. Somehow I forgot how forthright and emotional Baldwin's fiction is because I think this novel is absolutely extraordinary. 

“If Beale Street Could Talk” is narrated by nineteen year old Tish who has become pregnant by her fiancé Fonny who she's been close to most of her life. They've found their own place to live in Harlem and received a blessing from Tish's father to marry, but their plans collapse when Fonny is falsely accused of rape and imprisoned. Both their families try to pull together to get Fonny out of this dire situation, but they encounter many obstacles due to economic disadvantages and institutionalised racism. It's a heart-wrenching tale, but powerfully describes the bonds of family and romantic love in the most exquisitely beautiful way. 

Baldwin has a way of articulating in clear-sighted lucid prose his intense frustrations on a number of subjects. There are frequent cutting asides like this which slaps down the inflated egotism of a nation's spirit: “I must say that I don’t think America is God’s gift to anybody - if it is, God’s days have got to be numbered.” Another line feels so contemporary it's like Baldwin was critiquing the self righteous indignation of people on social media: “these days, of course, everybody knows everything, that’s why so many people, especially most white people, are so lost.” Passages like this burn with the intensity of sparks. Baldwin was a great essay writer and speech maker and maybe this comes through too strongly in a narrative meant to be narrated by a nineteen year old. Equally some later sections stray so far into other characters' points of view I wonder why he kept the entire novel in Tish's first person voice. Nevertheless, the dialogue and relationships between the characters in this novel felt entirely true. 

There's also a startling edginess to Baldwin's writing in how he portrays sexuality and frank heated exchanges. An early sex scene between a husband and his zealously religious wife is shown with surprising violence and expresses the unvoiced conflicts in their relationship. This contrasts so sharply with the mountainous passion expressed when Tish and Fonny make love. I was riveted by the arguments between the families which built to such a riotous show down it could have been a confrontation portrayed in a daytime talk show. It's also somewhat bracing to read how some racist and homophobic language is used by the characters. This makes total sense because it's of the era but you know that phrases such as “eyes like a Chinaman” and “the way his behind stuck out, his mother might have been a gorilla” wouldn't fly in a novel written today. 

Scenes of furious confrontation are balanced with touching moments of forgiveness and some scenes subvert your expectations such as when disenfranchised members of a community come together when Tish gets groped at a grocers. But alongside the high drama there are also many quiet moments of reflection that reveal the depths of great psychological complexity. For instance when considering her appearance Tish observes “People make you pay for the way you look, which is also the way you think you look, and what time writes in a human face is the record of that collision.” This is such a disarming way of considering how our image of ourselves and judgements by others about our appearance can mingle. 

What comes across most of all is how many of the issues Baldwin was writing about almost fifty years ago (this novel was first published in 1974) still feel relevant today. Perhaps that's why Barry Jenkins is bringing this story to the big screen now. I'm looking forward to watching it as well as Jenkins' next project which is turning Colson Whitehead's “The Underground Railroad” into a mini series. 

The Blazing World by Margaret Cavendish

Ever since I read Danielle Dutton’s novel “Margaret the First” which fictionalizes the life of Margaret Cavendish and Siri Hustvedt’s extraordinary novel about a misunderstood female artist “The Blazing World”, I’ve had a fascination with this pioneering writer of the 17th century and wanted to read her books. Earlier this year I attended a feminist book club meeting about Dutton’s novel and that reignited my interest in Cavendish. In the lead up to the announcement of this year’s longlist announcement for The Women’s Prize for Fiction, it seemed like a great time to explore this intrepid figure’s writing. “The Blazing World” was first published in 1666 and is often considered a forerunner to both science fiction and the utopian novel genres. It’s a totally bonkers story of a woman who is stolen away to the North Pole only to find herself in a strange bejewelled kingdom of which she becomes the supreme Empress. Here she consults with many different animal/insect people about philosophical, religious and scientific ideas. The second half of the book pulls off a meta-fictional trick where Cavendish (as the Duchess of Newcastle) enters the story herself to become the Empress’ scribe and close companion. It was impossible for me to read this novel without thinking of Dutton’s text which gives an impression of the real struggles Cavendish faced in her life as well as her eccentric personality.

I found the first half of the novel quite difficult to follow although I was entranced by the bizarre concepts and “chopt Logick” that it contained. The Empress is ruthlessly methodical in quizzing her anthropomorphic subjects who are the leaders in their field of study. It’s like she’s investigating the current trends in thought to either approve or reject them. Cavendish was privy to the debates and meetings of some of the most prominent minds of her era so it feels like in her novel she’s mulling over many new concepts and trying to connect disparate ideas. In her wilfulness the Empress demands that telescopes be destroyed because she calls them “false informers” and dissolves her society of Lice-men who are Geometricians because she finds “neither Truth nor Justice in their Profession.” It felt to me like her ruthless decision-making and domineering mentality were Cavendish’s reaction to being made to feel relatively voiceless amongst the egotistical learned men of her time. This could be a simplistic interpretation of her creative reaction and I don’t mean to undermine the seriousness of the ideas Cavendish works with in her novel.

Cavendish explores many fascinating concepts throughout the text concerning the natural world both at the macro level of astrology and the micro level where she seems to be striving to articulate a concept of subatomic physics. In one section she states “both by my own Contemplation, and the Observations which I have made by my rational & sensitive perception upon Nature, and her works, I find, that Nature is but one Infinite Self-moving Body, which by the vertue of its self-motion, is divided into Infinite parts, which parts being restless, undergo perpetual changes and transmutations by their infinite compositions and divisions.” It feels like she’s speaking here about the behaviour of matter and energy and gravitational forces. 

As the ultimate leader, the Empress also contemplates how people should be ruled. I found it interesting how she rejects the idea of ruling through tyranny because she recognises its short-term effectiveness: “for Fear, though it makes people obey, yet does it not last so long, nor is it so sure a means to keep them to their duties, as Love.” Not only does she absorb and sift through scientific and political ideas, but also references many different religions and sacred texts to play off from before the Empress decides to write her own religious text or Cabbala. The Empress hilariously wants to summons the spirits of some of the greatest minds in philosophy and science such as Aristotle, Pythagoras, Plato, Galileo or Hobbes, but it’s decided that they would be too “self-conceited” to agree to be her scribe. So instead she summons Cavendish herself. Neither are content to simply reside within this fantastical world so they create worlds within this world to travel to and the Empress appoints a “Spirit to be Vice-Roy of her body in the absence of her soul.”

In the novel there’s a frequent insistence upon the formation of one’s own imaginative world as a means of escape in a way that makes me feel Cavendish must have felt either bored or suffocated by the actual life she was trapped within. It felt as if the Empress’ freedom and vast riches played off from the fact Cavendish’s much older husband experienced varying amounts of financial and political trouble throughout their marriage. Dutton’s novel also suggests how Cavendish had such a restless spirit, boundless level of creativity and a monumental ego that she often felt discontent with the limitations of her reality. She also craved fame and sought it out by dressing outlandishly and self-publishing many books. Cavendish’s taste for fashion and cultivating a distinct image are reflected in the novel as well when the Empress daringly seeks to make a flashy garment made from “star-stone”. I think it’s safe to assume that if Cavendish were alive today she’d be a habitual social media user and would take countless selfies. Everything about her unique and multi-faceted personality suggests that she was someone who struggled with the many limitations of her time. 

“The Blazing World” is such an intriguing oddity that I found it a totally absorbing and bewildering read.