John Galsworthy (1867–1933)

This was the first of the three trilogies Galsworthy wrote about the eponymous family of successful upper middle class lawyers and businessmen, whom he uses to stand for a certain Victorian, English set of attitudes and values focused on the primacy of money, social position, respectability and security.

The lawyer Soames Forsyte has a central position in all three novels: he’s an almost-perfect embodiment of Forsyteism, his idea of himself as a Man of Property invariably trumping any show more distant echoes of aesthetic sense or human feeling that get through to him. In the first novel we see his despotic possession of his wife Irene fall apart when she falls for the distinctly un-Forsyteish architect Philip; in the second we find him being pushed into a position where his desire for a child forces him into the ultimate sacrifice of respectability, a passage through the divorce court; and in the third he is pushed towards another major sacrifice of reputation for the sake of his daughter.

Galsworthy writes with a Trollope-like irony towards his characters (and a very Trollope-like fascination with legal quirks), but it’s informed by a 20th-century scepticism about Victorian values, written in the aftermath of the humiliation of South Africa and (in the last book) the horrors of the Great War. And a certain sense of nostalgia, too: when Timothy Forsyte, last of the Victorian generation, is interred in Highgate Cemetery, it’s a bit like the death of Emperor Franz-Joseph. Oddly, he doesn’t have anything to say about the Women’s Suffrage movement, but he does stress how Victorian law and custom were used to oppress women, and puts in his own plea for a long-overdue reform of divorce laws. show less

While I am not usually a fan of the historical-family-saga I very much enjoyed reading this series. Perhaps that is partly due to the fact that a few years ago I watched the modern TV adaptation (which did cause one problem - the Irene in the TV series has the wrong hair colour!)

The best description I can think of for the writing style is that it is Dickens meets Balzac. There is wry humour, but it is sly and understated. There is melodrama, but it never tips over into hysteria. There are show more many stereotypes in the book, but this is actually a plus - it makes it easier to follow Galsworthy's intentions and plottings, and he also does us the favour of building in enough twists that the stereotypes are at times up-ended, with interesting results.

The characterisations are very well done - you feel you know the people who act out the story - and Galsworthy does and wonderful job of describing the settings and material 'things' that play such an importance place in these people's lives.

This book is well worth the time it will take to finish - start now! show less

Summary: It's 1920, and the next generation of Forsytes are just entering adulthood. Fleur Forsyte is the impetuous and willful only daughter of Soames Forsyte and his second wife, and he dotes on her without limit. Jon Forsyte is the only son of Soames's first wife Irene and Jolyon Forsyte, Soames's cousin. The two branches of the family never speak after what happened between Soames and Irene, but a chance meeting results in Fleur and Jon falling head over heels in love with each other. show more Their parents are desperate to keep them apart, but how can they hope to sever the children's attachment to each other without unearthing painful secrets from the past?

Review: Now that I've read all three books in the Forsyte Saga, I've discovered a simple rule: How much I enjoy any one of them is inversely proportional to how much they feature Soames. Thus, correspondingly, I liked To Let substantially better than In Chancery, but neither was quite as good as The Man of Property. In fact, in To Let, Soames is almost back around to being, if not likeable, then at least not actively hateful, which is a refreshing change.

...But the bad news may be that the role of "actively hateful" is currently being filled by Soames's daughter. I was siding with the parental generation of Forsytes throughout this book: Jon and Fleur absolutely should not be together. But it's not because I particularly cared about what their relationship might do to injure the feelings of their parents; it's because Jon is a genuinely nice guy, and Fleur is an insufferable, manipulative little brat. I had this problem when I watched the DVD version as well: it's hard to become emotionally invested in the trials and tribulations of Jon and Fleur's relationship when all you want to do is see him dump her (preferably straight into the river) and go find someone who's not completely horrible.

But regardless, overall I did enjoy reading this. Galsworthy's prose is descriptive and smooth and surprisingly easy to read, and he brings the 1920s and their feeling of newness and excitement and careless change to vivid life. The Forsyte Saga is not at the top of anybody's list of must-read classics, but I found it worth my while, and I'm glad I gave it a shot. 4 out of 5 stars.

Recommendation: Don't read this one first: make no mistake, The Forsyte Saga really is a saga, and as such, it's best to start at the beginning. But the saga as a whole should appeal to those who like multigenerational family dramas, and late-Victorian England. show less

One of his five best stories is what Nobel Prize winner John Galsworthy called The apple tree, a short novel published in 1916.

It is a beautifully written Romantic story, that begins when Frank Ashurst and his wife Stella stop for a rest in the countryside near Torquay, and a wayside grave triggers a flashback to a hiking trek Frank made as a young man through the area.

Twenty-six years earlier, Ashurst and a friend wandered when Ashurst hurt himself and was taken in by some common people at show more a farm to recover. During his stay he fell in love with the daughter of the family, called Megan. It is only with the greatest hesitation that Megan, betrothed to a loutish local boy, opens her heart to Ashley, who willfully seduces her to kiss under the apple tree. When he leaves, he promises Megan that he will be back to marry her.

However, in Torquay he meets Stella who is also very beautiful, and besides, Stella is of a much better social standing than Megan. The story portrays his struggle to break his promise, rationalizing his decision, and eventually marrying Stella. With deep regret, he gives up his first love, Megan. His second love, while not as passionate, develops naturally, and the class difference between Megan and Stella makes him realize, a marriage with Megan would have been foolish.

At the time, Ashurst could well imagine how unhappy Megan would have been, waiting for his return in vain. The discovery of the wayside grave drives home the shock and deep regret of abandoning his first love. He asks an old man about the grave, and hears how heartbroken Megan waited and finally killed herself over grief.

The apple tree is not merely a beautiful and tragic story. Clearly, Ashurst's marriage with Stella is far from ideal, and part of his regret for his first love, Megan, is that he might have been happier with her. Ashurst's regret is not just about what he lost: he feels guilty of breaking Megan's heart, and in now further burdened by her suicide. But while Ashurst's love for Megan seemed pure enough, there were constant reminders of their inequality. Much of the love affair was initiated by Ashurst, who in all matters seemed more knowledgeable, more mature. Their love was not as pure as it seemed, instead it was tinged by Ashurst's intellectual deliberations, his pity for Megan and his aristocratic condescension. After all, it was but a bit of play. More than about love, The apple tree is a novella about class. show less