Can a narrator actually ruin a classic? I mean, really ruin it - not just make it slightly less enjoyable, but actively work against everything the author was trying to do?
I've been teaching Forster for fifteen years. His comedy of manners requires - demands, really - a certain lightness of touch. The wit is dry. The tragedy sneaks up on you. The whole point is that these buttoned-up Edwardians are performing respectability while their actual emotions are churning underneath. So what happens when a narrator delivers every line with the same flat affect? You lose the joke. You lose the heartbreak. You lose Forster.
The Herritons Deserved Better
Look, Where Angels Fear to Tread is Forster's first novel, and it's already doing that thing he does so brilliantly - using an Italian vacation as a mirror to expose English snobbery. Lilia Herriton, a widow, gets shipped off to Italy by her in-laws who are terrified she might marry someone "unsuitable." (The irony being, of course, that she does exactly that - marries a younger Italian man named Gino, and the Herritons absolutely lose their minds.)
The setup is sharp. The execution is devastating. When Lilia dies in childbirth and the family decides they must "rescue" the baby from its own father, Forster is asking real questions about cultural arrogance, about who gets to decide what's best for a child, about the violence of good intentions. This is a novel that should make you laugh uncomfortably and then gut-punch you.
But Michael Scott's narration... it's like he's reading a grocery list. Every situation, every mood, same delivery. The scenes where Caroline Abbott wrestles with her own complicity in the family's schemes? Flat. The moments of genuine tragedy? Flat. The comedy? You guessed it.
When the Voice Works Against the Words
I kept waiting for something to shift. For the narrator to find his footing, to suddenly click into the material. It didn't happen. And here's what frustrates me as someone who teaches this stuff - Forster's prose is already doing so much work. The irony is baked into the sentences. A narrator doesn't need to oversell it, but they do need to understand it. They need to know when Forster is being funny and when he's being devastating and when - as he so often does - he's being both at once.
Michael Scott reads the words correctly. I'll give him that. The production is clean, no audio issues. But correct isn't the same as alive. I found myself mentally re-reading passages I know well, hearing them in my head the way they should sound, which is not exactly the audiobook experience I was hoping for.
(My students would probably tell me I'm being too harsh. They'd be wrong, but they'd say it.)
The Comparison That Hurts
Apparently there's a version narrated by Edward Petherbridge that other listeners swear by. I haven't heard it, but based on what I experienced here, I understand why people switch. When you're dealing with a novel this layered - and at just over five hours, it's not a huge commitment - the narrator becomes your guide. They're interpreting the text for you, making choices about emphasis and pacing and character voice. Those choices matter.
Forster's later novels - A Room with a View, Howards End, A Passage to India - get all the attention. But this first one is already showing you what he can do. It's tighter, more brutal in some ways. Less forgiving of its characters. The ending doesn't offer easy resolution. It's the kind of book I'd assign to students if I wanted them to understand what a comedy of manners can actually accomplish when it's not pulling punches. Their Eyes Were Watching God does something similar—using a deceptively simple story to ask uncomfortable questions about power and who gets to define someone else's life.
Who's This For (And Who Should Run)?
If you're new to Forster, maybe start with a different audiobook. Or read this one in print and save the audio experience for A Passage to India with a narrator who gets it. Already a Forster devotee? You might find this version more frustrating than I did, or you might be able to tune out the narration and just appreciate the words. Skip this if you need a narrator who can land dry British wit - you won't find it here.
Back to the Penguin Edition
Honestly? I won't listen again. And that pains me to say, because I love this novel. I've read it three times in print, taught it twice. But this audiobook made me want to pick up my battered Penguin edition instead. The story is still there - Forster's observations about class and culture and the ways we convince ourselves we're acting nobly while doing terrible things. That's all intact. But it deserves a narrator who can match its intelligence.
Me, I'll be grading papers tonight with something else in my ears. Principal Martinez's budget meeting was more dynamic than this. (Okay, that's harsh. But only slightly.)
