Even if I hadn’t just been binge-reading E M Forster, this collection of short stories would have reminded me of him. Very domestic, slightly waspish, good on social awkwardness and miscommunication, with some gentle mocking of vanity and other human flaws, and so on. None of EMF’s spiritual leanings or his reaching towards The Beyond though, which although a little cringe-making sometimes, ultimately means there’s more to him than drawing rooms and tea trays, and I love him for that.
I’m interested to read Mr Hensher in novel-length after these anyway; although none of the stories made a huge impression on me, I liked his writing very much.
