It's about a girl who dreams of horses and at first wants to win a gymkhana (a horse show). Soon she sets her sights on The Grand National, which is the biggest deal jump race in Europe (i.e.: money). Of course, she's underage and a girl, and girls aren't allowed to participate. Doesn't stop her, of course.
Then I reread E.M. Forster's A Room With a View. It's a classic, really, and I do appreciate how optimistic it is in comparison with most of Forster's other works.
Though it's social criticism, A Room With a View is so utterly romantic and beautifully written that the tiny font size and the rather old-fashioned writing style didn't keep me from enjoying it.
(and yes, that's why I love Jane Austen, especially Emma)
Here's one of my favorite passages:
"'Eccolo!' he exclaimed.
At the same moment the ground gave way, and with a cry she fell out of the wood. Light and beauty enveloped her. She had fallen on to a little open terrace, which was covered with violets from end to end.
'Courage!' cried her companion, now standing some six feet above. 'Courage and love.'
She did not answer. From her feet the ground sloped sharply into view, and violets ran down in rivulets and streams and cataracts, irrigating the hillside with blue, eddying round the tree stems collecting into pools in the hollows, covering the grass with spots of azure foam. But never again were they in such profusion; this terrace was the well-head, the primal source whence beauty gushed out to water the earth.
Standing at its brink, like a swimmer who prepares, was the good man. But he was not the good man that she had expected, and he was alone.
George had turned at the sound of her arrival. For a moment he contemplated her, as one who had fallen out of heaven. He saw radiant joy in her face, he saw the flowers beat against her dress in blue waves. The bushes above them closed. He stepped quickly forward and kissed her."
At the same moment the ground gave way, and with a cry she fell out of the wood. Light and beauty enveloped her. She had fallen on to a little open terrace, which was covered with violets from end to end.
'Courage!' cried her companion, now standing some six feet above. 'Courage and love.'
She did not answer. From her feet the ground sloped sharply into view, and violets ran down in rivulets and streams and cataracts, irrigating the hillside with blue, eddying round the tree stems collecting into pools in the hollows, covering the grass with spots of azure foam. But never again were they in such profusion; this terrace was the well-head, the primal source whence beauty gushed out to water the earth.
Standing at its brink, like a swimmer who prepares, was the good man. But he was not the good man that she had expected, and he was alone.
George had turned at the sound of her arrival. For a moment he contemplated her, as one who had fallen out of heaven. He saw radiant joy in her face, he saw the flowers beat against her dress in blue waves. The bushes above them closed. He stepped quickly forward and kissed her."
