The Moon and Sixpence by W. Somerset Maugham

[The Comedian]

Last year an English professor at my college retired; she left most of her books to the faculty. I scooped up several freebies: The Moon and Sixpence by W. Somerset Maugham was one of these. The particular volume that I read was an old, ragged, highlighted, dog-eared cheap paperback. It had been read by several people before me.

And I think the nature of this particular volume perfectly fit the central theme of Maugham's novella: that great art scars the intellect and heals the soul.

The narrative is a first-person account of the fictional painter Charles Strickland, often believed to be based on French painter Paul Gauguin. Strickland is brutish and raw but magnetic to nearly all he encounters. The novel documents his life from England, Paris, and later to the island of Tahiti.

While the Strickland character is supremely interesting, the star of the novel is the Maugham. The prose is stark but elegant and, as such, perfectly echos the paintings of and character Strickland.

I love so many phrases, lines, and paragraphs from this novella that I cannot count or cite them all.

But my favorite is this one:


It is not true that suffering ennobles the character; happiness does that sometimes, but suffering, for the most part, makes men petty and vindictive.

There is a beautiful brutality at work in this sentence which, again, echos the Strickland character and his art. But more than that, it is in every facet of the novel itself: its plotting, narration, character development, organization. . .

Aw hell, that's not what I mean to say you. You want to know what The Moon and Sixpence made me feel? It made me feel small and insignificant, like I was standing alone on the flat, treeless North Dakota prairie. It made me feel that art and genius exist but that they are beyond my ability to understand or to love. But like Lot's wife, I could not look away.

My rating: 10 two-penny damns out of a possible 10.

[Modest Proposal]

I love your rating system. Unlike the characters who seemed stingy and never willing to give a two-penny damn about anything, I give many a two-penny damn for this novel. In fact, I will import Faulkner's rating of "Ode to a Grecian Urn" and say that this novel is worth several old grandmothers as well.

In all seriousness, I finished this novel on saturday and feel as you that it is an almost casual work of brilliance and beauty, much like the art of Charles Strickland (Gauguin). It is my first go at Maugham and I too read a worn copy, in my case $.25 library discard, and was rewarded as surely the many readers of my copy were before me.

What did you think of the moral or maybe unmoral, or maybe amoral stance that the author/narrator seemed intent on preserving regarding the Strickland's choices?

[dfloyd]

novels which are a fictional account of real-life artistic people. I read The Moon about 40 years ago and just finished rereading it a few months ago. I have a beautiful copy published by the Heritage Press. In the first half of the book, all the illustrations are in sombre b&w. The second half is illustrated with Gauguin paintings in color from his Tahatian period. Gauguin died of syphillus in Tahati which Maugham visited.

A movie was made of the novel starring George Saunders, who was perfect for the part. He was said to have a perpetual sneer on his face. His ex-wife, one of the Gabor sisters, said he was a real bastard, which fits Charles Strickland's personality. Saunders was actually married to two of the Gabor sisters, divorcing both.

If you like The Moon, be sure to read Cakes and Ale, which is the fictionalized biography of Thomas Hardy. The Razor's Edge is also very good, but it doesn't relate to any real-life person as do the two others.

[The Comedian]

What did you think of the moral or maybe unmoral, or maybe amoral stance that the author/narrator seemed intent on preserving regarding the Strickland's choices?

I wasn't sure at first -- about why he was being so removed from casting any moral imperative onto Strickland (though he does call him a "devil" a few times, so maybe he is casting him in a moral light from time to time). But I think that the narrator simply doesn't understand Strickland (and "the artist" by extension).

His original astonishment at Strickland's lack of familial responsibilities, then his lifestyle, then his treatment of Stroeve, an so on. . .pair with the reader's conundrum: how can a great artist (the narrator establishes him to be so on page 1 or 2) be such an inhuman *******?

It's been a while since I've been in school, but I suppose one could read this novel as either a critique or as an extension of aestheticism, depending on how you take the moral issue that you raise. Is the artist morally above all the human suffering and death that, Strickland (in this case), caused? Everyone seems to get on fine, except the dead one, of course. They cried, but they got on. Art before life?

Or maybe the suffering and willful indifference to human tragedy is the well-spring of art? Strickland's art only improved after he became a moral louse.

It's funny. Even though the narrator never makes any strong moral pronouncements about the relationship of the artist to society, what I do see in The Moon and Sixpence is a narrator who feels too small to judge the artist once the full course of the artist's life has run its course. . . . .that the art itself is beyond moral assessment.

Bah! I'm rambling now.

[Emil Miller]

Thank's for a very good review of The Moon and Sixpence. I hope it encourages others to read this outstanding work and other novels by the master storyteller W.S.Maugham. Maugham's apparent indifference to Strickland's behaviour is that of the detached observer who never apportions blame even though he disagrees with the man's actions. That's what makes the story so fascinating and gives the reader that fly on the wall experience where you feel that you are part of the unfolding drama.
The human characteristics of all of the people in the story are deftly drawn but entirely credible; from the genteel Mrs Strickland through Dirk Stroeve and his tragic wife, to the rascally Captain Nichols and the kindly Dr Coutras, Tiare Johnson and Strickland himself, gross and loathsome but a truly great artist. The ending of the novel when the doctor is called to see Strickland is one of the most moving scenes in English literature and really drives home the tragic nature of misunderstood genius.

[Modest Proposal]

Thanks Comedian and Brian for the responses. I know its a little out of vogue to ask something as old-fashioned as morality, we being so far beyond that now with post-modernity (now we are on to the real issues such as semiology), but I was curious to see how others read it. Though not so singular as "Lolita" it was very interesting to me how Maugham dealt with the issue (or didn't).

Recently studying issues of artists during war time, Comedian, I think your comment about aestheticism is probably at least partly true, but recalls the concept of inner-migration of which Hannah Arendt spoke. That is, the artist retreating into himself in times when things are going on around him/her with which they disagree. In this case, Maugham seemed to fall into a sort of aesthetic trance so as not to have to address the complicated and problematic morality of his character. Is this a sort of imitative form? Telling the story of someone retreating from moral responsibility for arts sake and in doing so focusing on artistic merit rather than moral issues. Someone should write a metafictional/Philip Kaufman story about a fictional Maugham recreating the issues he writes about in the book.

Now I am rambling.

I agree also, Brian, with your assessment of the characters, particularly the doctor (along with the narrator, my favorite person in the story). I found the doctor to be the exact opposite of Strickland. This may seem a little reductive to look at him as a mere mirror (pardon the pun) or foil, but the doctor's ethical decisions, coupled with his unrefined capacity to recognize art seemed remarkable tactical. I think the doctor was in some ways a type of artist who specialized in the medium of life, but unlike Strickland, his works were doomed to die (as are all humans). Strickland neglected life, something traditionally of absolute importance, but created paintings that would last. The doctor attended to the lives of people, who would always eventually die, and only saw art in a fleeting sense and could never hope to create it.

[Emil Miller]

Thanks Comedian and Brian for the responses. I know its a little out of vogue to ask something as old-fashioned as morality, we being so far beyond that now with post-modernity (now we are on to the real issues such as semiology), but I was curious to see how others read it. Though not so singular as "Lolita" it was very interesting to me how Maugham dealt with the issue (or didn't).

Recently studying issues of artists during war time, Comedian, I think your comment about aestheticism is probably at least partly true, but recalls the concept of inner-migration of which Hannah Arendt spoke. That is, the artist retreating into himself in times when things are going on around him/her with which they disagree. In this case, Maugham seemed to fall into a sort of aesthetic trance so as not to have to address the complicated and problematic morality of his character. Is this a sort of imitative form? Telling the story of someone retreating from moral responsibility for arts sake and in doing so focusing on artistic merit rather than moral issues. Someone should write a metafictional/Philip Kaufman story about a fictional Maugham recreating the issues he writes about in the book.

Now I am rambling.



These are interesting observations and you are not rambling at all. You see, Maugham's attitude is noticeable in all of his books and one doesn't have to be a psychiatrist to understand why. Maugham was not only a promiscuous homosexual but also a peadophile. His refusal to recognise the lack of morality in Strickland and other disreputable characters in his novels is a refusal to face up to his own behaviour. None of which takes anything away from his amazing ability to write brilliant novels and short stories as well as being a very successful playwrite. There has in fact been a play written about the ageing Maugham, A Song at Twilight, by Noel Coward, another homosexual and partial acquaintance of Maugham, but there are numerous biographies about him; the best being that by Ted Morgan and the more recent one by Selina Hastings which, without being in any way sensationalist, pulls no punches.

[Jozanny]

I read Of Human Bondage some years ago and actually took notes, because the protagonist was a gimp, and his femme fatale was sick. I found the characters repugnant and yet the novel worth reading, so I have the e-file now plus this title, and when I get to it I hope I will be equally captivated. Thanks C.

[The Comedian]

Hey guys,

I wrote that review from memory; I didn't have access to my book at the time. And one thing I couldn't remember is the answer to this question: Is the narrator ever named? I wanted to say "no", but I couldn't recall if maybe during the opening scenes his name was established.

[Emil Miller]

Hey guys,

I wrote that review from memory; I didn't have access to my book at the time. And one thing I couldn't remember is the answer to this question: Is the narrator ever named? I wanted to say "no", but I couldn't recall if maybe during the opening scenes his name was established.

He wasn't named and that is characteristic of Maugham's narrators. I think the only book where he is named is in Ashenden; a collection of stories based on Maugham's experiences as a spy during WW1.