I love E.M. Forster.   When I taught English I never assigned Howards End because I felt protective of it, particularly after most of my students were underwhelmed by A Room with a View.  And I even showed them the movie!   I could never impress upon them that Forster is, along with being humane and brave and satirical, truly funny.  So, I failed.  At least Forster’s legacy hasn’t spawned a marketing machine that spits out mugs and totes and  ironic tee-shirts.  Perhaps E.M. Forster’s obsession with the “muddle” isn’t an inviting brand. His characters tend to find themselves in messes of their own making, messes Forster describes with knowing empathy that defy, for the most part, tee-shirt slogans. We have this improv warm-up that’s actually called “Tee-Shirt” where one person describes the image on another person’s shirt and then that person provides the witty caption that goes beneath.   We could play that game here in honor of E.M. Forster.  Here’s the image that might go on a very large tee-shirt:

If E.M. Forster were providing the caption, it might be this one:

Wearing this tee-shirt would require a lot of explaining (and a lot of material), so I’ll let it remain in the imagination. Forster, however, was with me this afternoon, if only in spirit, which was enough…it would have been weird if the actual man showed up. Anyhow.  I got permission to go to the Heritage Museum today in Islamabad and, like any good museum, it was closed on Mondays.  Today was Monday.  A ForsterMuddle, I guess.  But the area around the museum was open and Ali, the driver, was a willing model and camera man, so we had a really good time.  We had the life that was waiting for us outside the museum.  And that was just fine. Here’s some photographic evidence:

Forster was also with me while I finished Mohsin Hamid’s Discontent and its Civilizations.  Before I say anything here, I need to emphasize that I know very, very little about the complex political history of Pakistan, although this book helped me get a dim understanding of some basic patterns.  As with most countries, Pakistan has lived out a tug-of-war between transparency and corruption, democracy and militarization, inclusion and tribalism.  Some of Hamid’s observations about Pakistan too easily transfer to our current situation at home (a president, for instance, who bolsters and then relies upon a shallow and jingoistic media network whose relation to the truth is quite distant).  Hamid, like Forster, despairs over strongmen who “serve” their constituents by pitting one against the other without regard to the violence they unleash.  Painful.

These two quotes, one by each author, have been in my head. I think they’re linked:

“I believe in aristocracy, though–if that is the right word, and if a democrat may use it.  Not an aristocracy of power, based upon rank and influence, but an aristocracy of the sensitive, the considerate and the plucky.  Its members are to be found in all nations and classes, and all through the ages, and there is a secret understanding between them when they meet.  They represent the true human tradition, the one permanent victory of our queer race over cruelty and chaos. Thousands of them perish in obscurity, a few are great names.  They are sensitive for others as well as themselves, they are considerate without being fussy, their pluck is not swankiness but power to endure, and they can take a joke.”  (E.M. Forster: Two Cheers for Democracy)

And:

“In Pakistan, my friends and family are frightened, as they should be when the most powerful military in the world is sent to do a task best accomplished by schoolteachers, police forces, persuasion and time.” (Mohsin Hamid: Discontent and Its Civilizations)

I’ve been thinking about these quotes because of what many Pakistanis have said to me about Americans (and I don’t think this was just flattery):

“I’ve never met an American who was rude or unkind.  They are humble and helpful and they may not know where Pakistan is on the map, but Americans are nice, generous people.”  (Condensed: Me)

Likewise, I’ve been surrounded by people here in Pakistan who know how to take a joke, even when mine are muddled sight-gags that aren’t particularly funny:

I’m not saying that comedy could save the world (honestly, though, why not give it a try?), but I am always taken aback at how kind and forgiving we can be when given the chance.  The soft diplomacy (stupid term) of teaching and listening and joking and waiting seems vastly underrated in our current situation.  And before anyone accuses Forster of being a “snowflake,” of needing to “get over it,” bear in mind he wrote the above quote for broadcast during the Second World War, hoping to give hope to the beleaguered British population who had suffered immeasurably at the hands of strongmen who had contempt for the human race and a deep fear of seeming “weak.”  Our “true human condition” reveals itself more fully when we recognize that the “secret understanding” we could share is a lot more potent than the Powerful would like us to believe.

Not that we can’t be jerks.  I was brusque today because I can’t stop eating and am now paying the price.  It’s hard to keep others in mind when reality demands that you look out for yourself first:

Well, then. Forster is known for his epigraph in Howards End, one that would look nice on a coffee mug or a chip-clip:

I’d have added an exclamation point (“Only connect!”) which is why it’s better that Forster got to it first.  I’ll force an improv observation here as well: improv is all about connecting with each other, listening deeply and enthusiastically, and when we don’t hear one another, we get to work out the muddle together. On stage.  In front of lots of people who probably paid money to watch us do this.  What a weird endeavor.

Before I go: A third quote, kind of about improv, has been on my mind.  It’s by filmmaker Sophie Fiennes in Melena Ryzik’s piece in the New York Times (not the media I referenced earlier), and it’s about the singer Grace Jones:

“Grace is always living the limitless possibilities of being–the possibilities of every moment, that you could live it more extremely…I always remember when she saw my film, she stood up and said, ‘I love the smell of your film’.”

That’s inspiring, although I can’t yet figure out why.  Only connect!