Modernism: An Art of Confusion?

I like a good Scotch, but sometimes I'm just in the mood to sip on some cider and relax.  That's the way I feel about literature.  I don't want every book I read to force me to ruminate over each chapter and read multiple essays about it just to understand what it's about.  Sometimes I like a simple narrative, an enjoyable story.  There's nothing wrong with that, though some people tend to think that this attitude makes you a simpleton, that you should always be challenging yourself.  I don't need to challenge myself with every read to feel like I accomplished something at the end of it.

This is not the face of a man who takes things lightly.

I read Bruno Schulz' two collections of short stories first thing this year--technically G.K. Chesterton was first thing, but it was started in 2010--so once that was done, I was tired.  Literally, worn out.  I switched to H.G. Wells.  I didn't think The Croquet Player was going to be as haunting as it was.  Now, I'm reading The Moon and Sixpence by W. Somerset Maugham.  While I wouldn't call him simple, I would say that he has Victorian sensibilities when it comes to storytelling.  He writes a plain narrative, and while he talks about deep issues, he talks about them simply.  And to be honest, I'm getting more out of The Moon and Sixpence then I did out of all of Bruno Schulz.  Maybe Maugham wasn't as good a writer as Schulz, but Maugham was the most popular British author since Charles Dickens.  He wrote things people connected to, and frankly, it's hard to connect to something you don't understand.

T.S. Eliot, looking so cash.

T.S. Eliot said that modern novelists, like modern poets, should be difficult.  I disagree.  I like T.S. Eliot, but there's a reason why Byron is my favorite poet.  Some might say it's apples and oranges.  All I know is, the Romantics had quite a lot of important things to say and they said them clearly and wonderfully.  I'm not entirely sure what Eliot was trying to say; all I know if he said it beautifully.
Let's be honest here, many of the greatest works in literature were simple stories.  Sometimes they told cavernously deep messages, but the stories were enjoyable, even if you missed the message.  The stories of Shakespeare were written to do two things: entertain and sell.  Marlowe was a bit deeper, but he's also not as well beloved.  Don Quixote is a simple, entertaining story.  One could study it for years and find many things to talk about, but to enjoy it, one simply has to read it.  The same can be said of Dickens or Thackeray.  They wrote to entertain, themselves and the people.  They also wrote with important messages, and they felt little reason to hide those messages behind obscure prose.
I'm not saying writers such as Joyce, Kafka, Schulz, or Eliot are bad writers for creating difficult and challenging literature; but I am saying that just because they are difficult does not make them better.  Like I said, I've been more challenged by Maugham than Schulz, and I think the reason might just be that I've comprehended more of Maugham's message.

I'm an existentialist. Of course I don't believe in Italy

I've been reading E.M. Forster's A Room with a View for nearly a week now.  I'll probably finish it today or tomorrow.  (I'd be done sooner if I hadn't thrown The Song of Roland into the mix.)  It has been an interesting read, to say the least.  Forster is one of those authors that I had a natural aversion to before I'd read anything by him.  Often, I follow my instincts and avoid that author and his works.  Sometimes, however, I force myself to read something by him--usually the shortest work.  This is, of course, one such occasion.  Other similar instances involved such authors as James Joyce, J.D. Salinger, F. Scott Fitzgerald, John Steinbeck, and even Charles Dickens. 
Now, forcing myself to read an author I don't want to read isn't always such the resounding success as my foray into the world of Dickens.  Take Salinger for an example: I had never read anything by him but always knew I'd hate his works; I found Franny and Zooey for a dollar and read it in a couple of days, only to find my original opinion was an understatement of my true hatred for that man's works. 
Luckily, Forster is not turning out so bad as all that.  I'd not say he's turning out like Dickens did though by any means.  It's a nice middle ground.  I like the story he's crafted and the characters he's populated it with, but his writing leaves something to be desired at times.  Some brilliance does shine through though.  Through dialogue mostly.  A wonderful example of this is this quote by George Emerson: "It is Fate that I am here.  But you can call it Italy if it makes you less unhappy."  I love that quote. Another highlight is the conversation between Cecil and Lucy wherein Cecil explains that when he thinks of her he thinks of a view, and when she thinks of him, she thinks of a room--a room without a view.  It's also said later that there are two types of men in the world: those who remember views and those who don't.
This room and view comparison is, in my opinion, a metaphor for two types of people.  The first being people who are closed off within society, with no access to the aesthetic life.  The view is that aesthetic life, but it is also the future--a wide open expanse with limitless possibilities.  You'll find none of that back in the room.  And so, it is a conflict between the passed and the future.  Which is interesting, considering the title: A Room with a View.  Obviously, this is a combination of both the passed and the future.  The societal safety of an enclosed room with the aesthetic freedom of a view.
There is another aspect of the room and view comparison.  It is stated at a certain point that Lucy says to Cecil, "I won't be stifled, not by the most glorious music, for people are more glorious, and you hide them from me."  This is easily a call-back to the notion that Cecil is a room without a view, and he would bring Lucy into the room if she would let him.  He would surround her with beautiful things--books, art, music--but he would keep her from people.  People are the one thing Cecil cannot stand.  He grows tired of every person he meets in the book.  Forster isn't saying we shouldn't surround ourselves with these beautiful things, but we should never remove people--the view--because people are the most beautiful things.  (As a misanthrope, I'm a little inclined to disagree, but I'm just stating what I think Forster was saying in the book.)
George Emerson seems to embody this notion.  His father is obviously a radical and a very strange man.  George takes after him somewhat, though he is different in many aspects.  He's described as "ill-bred" and that he "didn't do," but he is easily the most likable character and  obviously has better morals and understanding than the well-bred Cecil, who finds amusement in putting everyone down, so long as they hold nothing for him to gain.  George seems like what one would get from a cross between a country squire and a liberal-minded aristocrat: he is philosophical and gentlemanly, but he'll kiss the girl he loves regardless of her fiance being present not a minute earlier, because he "loves passionately."
I think this is what Forster was hoping for the future gentleman to be like.  Free of many Victorian restrains, replacing them with true morals and true philosophy rather than hypocrisy and regurgitated knowledge.  (I must point out that I do not hold the Victorian lifestyle to be nearly as bad as many of Edwardians and Modernists did, but that's neither here nor there.)  If Forster had understood the Medieval mind better, he would've called George medieval rather than that cold and cynical Cecil.
Or maybe I'm over-analyzing the whole damned thing, and it's just about a girl growing up and falling in love.