Howards End by Edward M. Forster is an audio reading of Forster's novel, with episodes named for the chapters they carry. The format needs little explanation. What arrives is the book, heard aloud, and the pleasure lies in the prose, which is wry, observant and often very funny about people who take themselves seriously. Margaret and Helen Schlegel are at the centre, sisters of Wickham Place who were left motherless when Tibby was born. Their Aunt Julie, Mrs. Munt, has rarely been able to help them, so a sudden note from Helen gives her a mission. She insists on going to Howards End herself to make inquiries, convinced that Margaret, anxious for her sister, would ask one of her impetuous questions and offend the whole family. Helen's telegram, 'All over. Wish I had never written. Tell no one,' reaches Margaret after the aunt has already gone. The Wilcoxes arrive amid petrol fumes and a throbbing motor-car, and Mrs. Wilcox, stooping to smell a rose, tells her elder son that the engagement is off. Nobody escapes the narration's eye. Mrs. Munt has a remarkable power of distorting the past, and within days her part in the fiasco has become 'The one time I really did help Emily's girls was over the Wilcox business.' Helen's own account of Paul is gentler and more rueful: two people who rather lost their heads, and a young man frightfully ashamed after breakfast. The sisters are beginning to diverge. The younger is apt to entice people and be enticed in turn, while the elder goes straight ahead and accepts an occasional failure as part of the game. Tibby, at sixteen, is summed up as intelligent but 'dyspeptic and difficile'. Other chapters step outside the family circle. A concert of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, hailed as 'the most sublime noise that has ever penetrated into the ear of man', finds each listener hearing something different: Helen sees heroes and shipwrecks, Margaret sees only the music, and Tibby keeps the full score open on his knee. A young man's umbrella goes astray at the Queen's Hall, and the episode lingers with the women as a 'goblin football', a hint that all is not well beneath the wealth and the art. Leonard Bast stands at 'the extreme verge of gentility', not in the abyss but able to see it. He tries to form his style on Ruskin in a flat that is dark as well as stuffy, while Jackie calls to him. The narration is blunt about his position in a way that belongs to its period. And when the Wilcoxes take a flat in the ornate block opposite Wickham Place, Aunt Julie calls it a most unfortunate thing, while Helen, a soapy hand raised, swears never again to fall in love with any of the Wilcox family. Comedy and unease sit side by side here, and that pairing is much of what makes the book worth hearing.