Maurice is not among the pioneering works of gay literature in that, though written before World War I, it was only published in 1970, after Forster's death, so it did not carve out a new territory of freedom for gay men. Forster himself said that the book was, by the close of his life, dated. And so it is in that it portrays a society that is long gone. But the emotional torment of Maurice as he struggles, in real pain, with his sexuality still strikes a chord, as does the brilliant portrayal of Maurice's inner conviction that everything that is wrong with him is also everything that is right for him as well.
Forster's prose is taut and understated, full of striking images and strong on irony. He also, perceptively for the time when he was writing, portrays a society on the verge of being swept away. Penge, the grand but delapidated country house of Maurice's friend Clive, is a symbol of a crumbling class system. The uneasy relationship between Maurice and Alec Scudder, when they are in the position of master and servant, rather than equals as lovers, perfectly describes the ambiguity and injustice of a deeply unfair social order. Maurice remains a remarkable book in its own right, as well as a poignant insight into the inner turmoil of Forster's own life in an age when to be gay was a crime and a sickness. The love between Alec and Maurice can only be consummated in secret. Society is governed by hypocrisy. This is a fascinating and moving glimpse of a world which, praise be, has gone forever.