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Anthony Burgess

He wrote and wrote and wrote, but the result was much more than hack work - a sprawling, dazzling genius

By Edward Pearce   December 2000

Simon Raven once described meeting EM Forster at Cambridge. Forster had been given the most practical of honours, a non-teaching fellowship at King’s which gave a dawdling pleasantness to his later life. Raven and his friends were off to play real tennis-the Henry VIII game which separates the toffs from the real toffs-when they bumped into Forster.

He wasn’t going anywhere in particular, said Raven, so he came with us to watch. This seemed to Raven typical of Forster’s idle but immensely successful journey through life. He hadn’t done much work, five or six novels depending on what you counted…

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