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It would stand to reason that a writer that has led an interesting life could write an interesting novel.

Unless you’re E. M. Forster.

If you’re him, you would lead an interesting life and then write a real clunker about despicable people doing deplorable things. You might posit that you’ve written a work filled to the brim with themes that your prose would never adequately explore.

None of which will matter when you eventually write A Passage To India.

Yeah, we didn’t care for this “essential novel.”