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Fionnuala's Reviews > Of Human Bondage
Of Human Bondage
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This is one of those titles that have been familiar to me since childhood, its three words tripping off the tongue so easily, making them impossible to forget, puzzling and all as they surely were. If there existed a photo of the family bookshelf of my childhood home, I'm certain the thick spine of this book would stand out in the pattern of greeny-grey and red-brown cloth-covered books that filled the shelves, old books acquired by my grandmother long before I or even my father came into the world. Old musty books full of dense print and no pictures, and therefore very daunting for a child no matter how keen a reader they might be. I did eventually tackle some of those daunting books, E M Forster, for example, Rafael Sabattini and Thomas Hardy, Baroness Orczy and John Buchan, and a few more I've forgotten. But I never prised Somerset Maugham from his position on the bookshelf, and the meaning of the title Of Human Bondage retained its mystery down through the years. Even now, after finishing the book, I'm not sure I fully understand the meaning of the title, but it doesn't matter. The main character, Philip Carey, has taken his place amongst the ranks of memorable characters in the bookshelves of my mind.
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There were no books by Henry James on my grandmother's bookshelves as far as I recall but I was reminded of one of his stories while reading Somerset Maugham. The Figure in the Carpet was written in 1896, twenty years before Of Human Bondage, so Maugham may have read it. The reason I mention it is because in Maugham's novel, the young and idealistic Philip Carey is given a scrap of Persian carpet by a writer he reveres. The writer tells him that the answers to the big questions he has about life lie among its faded patterns and he must figure them out for himself. In the Henry James story, another young and idealistic main character is told that the meaning of the enigmatic oeuvre of a writer he reveres is also like the pattern of a Persian carpet: if you look at it long enough, you will be able to figure it out.
You may not be surprised to find out that neither of these young and idealistic men manage to guess the figure in the carpet, but in the case of Maugham's Philip Carey it ceases to matter. Someone else, a character who might easily fade into the background of any colorful pattern they found themselves in, figures it out for him. Is Philip made free or enslaved by this knowledge? It's very difficult to say.
It seemed to Philip that life lived itself.
……………………………………….....……………….....
There are some fine meditations on literature, art, and philosophy in this book and I enjoyed those sections a lot.
On being asked why he reads, for instance, Philip says: Partly for pleasure, because it's a habit and I'm just as uncomfortable if I don't read as if I don't smoke, and partly to know myself. When I read a book I seem to read it with my eyes only, but now and then I come across a passage, perhaps only a phrase, which has a meaning for me, and it becomes part of me.
He has a similar experience when viewing the work of certain artists. It's as if the paintings become part of him. Here he is talking about the emaciated figures in El Greco's paintings :
El Greco was the painter of the soul; and these gentlemen, wan and wasted, not by exhaustion but by restraint, with their tortured minds, seem to walk unaware of the beauty of the world; for their eyes look only in their hearts, and they are dazzled by the glory of the unseen. No painter has shown more pitilessly that the world is but a place of passage. The souls of the men he painted speak their strange longings through their eyes; their senses are miraculously acute, not for sounds and odours and colour, but for the very subtle sensations of the soul.
I wondered if Somerset Maugham had modeled Philip on one of El Greco's ethereal figures. He often appears wan and wasted, and he suffers tortures of the mind over the fact that life seems nothing but a brief and painful passage. And he's acutely aware of the subtle sensations of the human soul.
Portrait of a Nobleman, El Greco, 1586, Museo del Prado
…………………………………………………………………
There were no books by Henry James on my grandmother's bookshelves as far as I recall but I was reminded of one of his stories while reading Somerset Maugham. The Figure in the Carpet was written in 1896, twenty years before Of Human Bondage, so Maugham may have read it. The reason I mention it is because in Maugham's novel, the young and idealistic Philip Carey is given a scrap of Persian carpet by a writer he reveres. The writer tells him that the answers to the big questions he has about life lie among its faded patterns and he must figure them out for himself. In the Henry James story, another young and idealistic main character is told that the meaning of the enigmatic oeuvre of a writer he reveres is also like the pattern of a Persian carpet: if you look at it long enough, you will be able to figure it out.
You may not be surprised to find out that neither of these young and idealistic men manage to guess the figure in the carpet, but in the case of Maugham's Philip Carey it ceases to matter. Someone else, a character who might easily fade into the background of any colorful pattern they found themselves in, figures it out for him. Is Philip made free or enslaved by this knowledge? It's very difficult to say.
It seemed to Philip that life lived itself.
……………………………………….....……………….....
There are some fine meditations on literature, art, and philosophy in this book and I enjoyed those sections a lot.
On being asked why he reads, for instance, Philip says: Partly for pleasure, because it's a habit and I'm just as uncomfortable if I don't read as if I don't smoke, and partly to know myself. When I read a book I seem to read it with my eyes only, but now and then I come across a passage, perhaps only a phrase, which has a meaning for me, and it becomes part of me.
He has a similar experience when viewing the work of certain artists. It's as if the paintings become part of him. Here he is talking about the emaciated figures in El Greco's paintings :
El Greco was the painter of the soul; and these gentlemen, wan and wasted, not by exhaustion but by restraint, with their tortured minds, seem to walk unaware of the beauty of the world; for their eyes look only in their hearts, and they are dazzled by the glory of the unseen. No painter has shown more pitilessly that the world is but a place of passage. The souls of the men he painted speak their strange longings through their eyes; their senses are miraculously acute, not for sounds and odours and colour, but for the very subtle sensations of the soul.
I wondered if Somerset Maugham had modeled Philip on one of El Greco's ethereal figures. He often appears wan and wasted, and he suffers tortures of the mind over the fact that life seems nothing but a brief and painful passage. And he's acutely aware of the subtle sensations of the human soul.
Portrait of a Nobleman, El Greco, 1586, Museo del Prado
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Reading Progress
December 20, 2023
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Started Reading
January 10, 2024
– Shelved
January 10, 2024
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49.16%
"Hayward could still talk delightfully about books; his taste was exquisite ...and he had a constant interest in ideas. They meant nothing to him really, since they never had any effect on him; but he treated them as he might have pieces of china in an auction-room, handling them with pleasure in their shape and their glaze, pricing them in his mind; and then, putting them back into their case, thought of them no more"
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350
January 27, 2024
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Finished Reading
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Tony
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Jan 29, 2024 09:06AM
I, too, came to Maugham late in life, Fionnuala. Oddly, it was a Modern Korean novel that took me to him. And so I had to read Moon and Sixpence. Then, Maugham was showcased as a character in Tan Twan Eng's The House of Doors, so I had to read The Casuarina Tree. Now, your review will lead me (as ever) to Of Human Bondage. I think I know where my daughters left a copy.
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I liked Philip's reason, though I guess if someone asked me " why I read ", I would find the question incomplete. I think it should rather be " why I read fiction, or non-fiction ", or whatever. The answers would differ in each case.
Your review makes me think I read Maugham when I was too young - in my earlyish 20s, I think. I probably read Of Human Bondage because it’s a Bette Davis movie (lifelong obsession!) but I read several others too. I’m thinking I should revisit him, particularly as I recently read The House of Doors. Thanks for a thought provoking review, Fionnuala.
Tony wrote: "I, too, came to Maugham late in life, Fionnuala. Oddly, it was a Modern Korean novel that took me to him. And so I had to read Moon and Sixpence..."I hope you enjoy this book when you get to it, Tony. I, in turn, plan to read The Moon and Sixpence fairly soon. Incidentally, Gaugin is one of the artists that Philip Carey is fascinated by so the seeds of that book were clearly laid down in this one. Interesting.
I really enjoyed reading your review, Fionnuala.The first paragraph is a gem and transported me to the bookshelves of your childhood to the extent that I was smelling old leather and heard the rustle of well worn pages. I have not read Maugham in years. Thanks for bringing me back.
You are coming here with such fascinating angles, Fionnuala! I remember so well this story by Henry James it left me puzzled for quite a while with the question whether the carpet giver was actually telling the truth and on which sense:-). I think this character of Maugham that you’ve so wonderfully sketched (for me he is still a boy best on your description) has answered that puzzle finally in your quote. The pattern was in the eye of the beholder:-) And also this quote has lead me still to Ilse’s recent review where the main character, a woman thought of her self as a collection of the traces other people left. We agreed with Ilse that books do a similar stuff to selves. And it seems this boy says something similar. I have not read anything of Maugham but his short stories. But I wanted to read Razor’s blade for a while. And both “Theatre” and The moon and sixpence were on the prominent place in the home where I was grown up:-) Though the covers were dark red:-)
Théo d'Or wrote: "I liked Philip's reason, though I guess if someone asked me " why I read ", I would find the question incomplete. I think it should rather be " why I read fiction, or non-fiction ", or whatever. The answers would differ in each case..."Yes, I understand what you mean, Théo, although in my own case, I think I'm a little like Philip in that reading anything, any text whatever, is as necessary as...well, not pipe-smoking but maybe breathing? It's even why I read so many reviews on goodreads. Reading other people's words in any format is a complete pleasure. Listening to audio books, for example, isn't nearly as attractive.
I read this long, long ago but remember that it made a huge impression on me.
This is one of those books I wanted to read, but never have and with that El Greco image (I love his work), I must read.
Perhaps I should consider this one at last, too, Fi. It is a good title, I wonder if it suffered from being too good for its own good.
Fionnuala, thank you for bringing back memories about the book! If I were to read only one book by Maugham, this would be it
Lovely observations on this classic, Fionnuala.
Fiona wrote: "Your review makes me think I read Maugham when I was too young - in my earlyish 20s, I think. I probably read Of Human Bondage because it’s a Bette Davis movie (lifelong obsession!)..."There's a ton of books I read too young too, Fiona, and this one was lucky that I was put off by its size back then. The Thirty-nine Steps and The Scarlet Pimpernell suited that early reader much better than this would have done. Even in my twenties, it would probably have been a stretch.
I didn't know about the movie with Bette Davis. I suppose she played Mildred? If I had any issues with this book it was with the way Mildred turned up in the story more frequently than a bad penny! But I guess Maugham's skill lay in making me so invested in Philip's well-being that I dreaded Mildred to the extent I did—yet didn't loose total compassion for her either. And then Maugham created the perfect counterpoise for Mildred. That was well done.
If my memory serves me well (an uncertain preposition) then "of human bondage" is the title of the last section in Spinoza's "Ethics" quite how that relates to Maugham's choice of title I am not sure any more, but it probably made sense to me at some point.My experience with the book was similar - it was on the book shelf, it was in this case a slightly grubby orange spinned penguin edition belonging to my mother which I read one summer probably in my late teens early twenties, I only remember a few things from it, studying art in Paris with the young woman in a brown dress and the ending.
Looking at it now it seems a little like "The way of all flesh" the young man eventually finding happiness in a lower social status, the struggle to escape the family, the portentous title...
Fionnuala, I love the meditation on reading, which you quoted. I can certainly relate to it. I read this book years ago and recall being rather moved by it. This was pre-GR days and I did not write a review. All I recall now is a protagonist with a club foot. I will have to re-read this some day.
Daniel wrote: "I really enjoyed reading your review, Fionnuala.The first paragraph is a gem and transported me to the bookshelves of your childhood to the extent that I was smelling old leather and heard the rustle of well worn pages..."Thanks for reading this with such investment, Daniel, that you sniffed out the set of leather bound works of John Dryden, quite small volumes which I now realise were called 'octavos'. I looked inside those more than once but the print was so tiny that I didn't get very far. The row of decorated spines were lovely to look at though:-)
Katia wrote: "You are coming here with such fascinating angles, Fionnuala! I remember so well this story by Henry James it left me puzzled for quite a while with the question whether the carpet giver was actually telling the truth and on which sense:-). I think this character of Maugham that you’ve so wonderfully sketched (for me he is still a boy best on your description) has answered that puzzle finally in your quote..."Thanks for reading all this so carefully, Katia. Yes, Philip lost the scrap of carpet pattern but eventually realised he didn't need it.
And you're right to think of him as young. For a large section of the book, he's only a boy, and even by the end he's still in his twenties though the world has wearied him woesomely.
I'm very happy to know that there were Somerset Maugham books on your family bookshelves too. I remember you saying that your grandmother was a great reader. I wish I knew if my grandmother was a reader or not—she died a long time before I was born. I know that many of the old books had been bought at auctions very cheaply and I suspect it was more to furnish the shelves than for the love of literature. But they did foster a love of literature in me so they achieved something more than decoration!
Judy wrote: "I read this long, long ago but remember that it made a huge impression on me."It's a book that I won't forget either, Judy. I'm so glad to have finally read it. The edition I read is a beautiful hardback Everyman with a ribbon to mark the pages. I bought it some years ago with a very generous book token I'd been given—and so was able to treat myself to a bunch of Everyman editions. Thomas Mann's Joseph and His Brothers was one, Borges's Ficciones was another, and there were several Henry James novels. I'm sure I must have doubted that I'd read every single book I bought that day but now, having read this Maugham book, I've finally finished all of them. It was a book token well spent!
David wrote: "This is one of those books I wanted to read, but never have and with that El Greco image (I love his work), I must read."You'll appreciate the sections on art for certain, David. Just to whet your appetite, let me tell you that Philip spends two years in Paris studying art in what I figure must have been the early 1890s though there are no dates given anywhere in the book. The (second?) Boer war is mentioned briefly in a later section so that's why I figured the Paris bit must be around the 90s. And there's lots of mentions of Impressionism.
Oh I am so glad you and Philip Carey have finally become friends!I also immediately thought of the Henry James story when the conversation about the Persian carpet came up. Such a perfect metaphor for "the meaning of life" which, like Beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.
Originally I thought the book would be about S&M and when I read it for the first time I realised I wasn't so far off the mark.
Ah, thank you for reminding me of Philip, such a nuanced character who represents the complexities of life. I’ve read 3 books by Somerset M. and this is definitely my favorite.
Nick wrote: "Perhaps I should consider this one at last, too, Fi. It is a good title, I wonder if it suffered from being too good for its own good."
I had no idea that the concept of 'human bondage' comes from Spinoza until I read Jan-Maat's comment in this thread, Nick. I know very little about Spinoza so I'll wait and see what further thoughts you have on the title when you read the book...
Vladys wrote: "Fionnuala, thank you for bringing back memories about the book! If I were to read only one book by Maugham, this would be it"That's a great recommendation for other people in this thread who haven't read him yet, Vladys. It's the first of his novels I've read but I do plan to read more. And coincidentally, while I was reading this very long book, I read a short story by Maugham with the Manguel short story group which I think you're in too? There were a couple of things in that story that reminded me of this book. One is the way Manguel can switch point of view in the middle of a paragraph. Most of the book is written from Philip's point of view but from time to time we get a little glimpse of an episode from another character's internal point of view. It threw me the first time I noticed it but then I quite liked it.
What a pleasure, to read your thoughts on Philip, Fionnuala. He made a deep impression on me, as he came across as a bizarre blend between a Dickensinian and a Proustian creature, obsessed but grounded on his reality, blinded by obsession, irrationally bonded to another being for reasons difficult to explain?His growth in the novel is remarkable. A classic to be read again. Someday.
Barbara K. wrote: "Lovely observations on this classic, Fionnuala."I can see now why it has classic status, Barbara. Until about half way in, I wasn't sure, but then I came to chapter 82, and when I'd read the few pages it contained, I knew that what I was reading was remarkable. I wrote a little note for myself at the end of the chapter, that's how impressed I was. It's the chapter where Philip gets to work for the first time with outpatients at the hospital where he's been training. It was something about the way he described the people he met there—I could see them as if they had been sketched on the page before me. Marvellous.
Jan-Maat wrote: "..My experience with the book was similar - it was on the book shelf, it was in this case a slightly grubby orange spinned penguin edition belonging to my mother which I read one summer probably in my late teens early twenties, I only remember a few things from it, studying art in Paris with the young woman in a brown dress and the ending..."Ah, Fanny Price! That was the name of the young woman in the brown dress. And she was just as sadly strict and strictly sad as Jane Austin's Fanny Price of Mansfield Park fame so I'm guessing Somerset Maugham must have chosen the name on purpose.
The ending was sudden wasn't it? It had been well prepared of course, the characters involved were all in their correct places to allow it to end in that way—but still it surprised me.
Thanks for the hint about Spinoza. I just looked up the phrase 'of human bondage' and found this brief reference:
In his Ethics, Spinoza defines the concept of bondage as man's inability to have full control over his actions and thoughts
Trying to relate that to Philip Carey's situation, I can only guess that Maugham was trying to show how Philip's feelings for Mildred prevented him from being completely free in his thoughts or actions?
I embarked on this review, thinking that I would finally figure out the meaning of a title that has always held on to my imagination (it implied something sinister and unsettling, but I'm probably wrong). Instead, I found the ascetic figures of El Greco and the beautiful images of the library of your childhood - plus the rough sketch of a pleasant and quite enticing character. Your reviews are always a fascinating trip into new territory, Fionnuala.
Ok, I am in on this book with all the art, Fionnuala!
My introduction to Maugham was a used, well-loved paperback of The Moon and Sixpence. I was so dazzled by it at the time that I went on rather quickly to read The Razor's Edge and then this one you've reviewed so brilliantly, Fionnuala. These three were all pre-GR days and I have faded memories of the details so would love to revisit them again someday. I love the story of your home bookshelf :)
This book sat on my family bookshelf throughout my childhood, Fionnuala, but it has never occurred to me to seek it out and try to read it. I do love the El Greco comparison.
Fionnuala wrote: "n his Ethics, Spinoza defines the concept of bondage as man's inability to have full control over his actions and thoughtsTrying to relate that to Philip Carey's situation, I can only guess that Maugham was trying to show how Philip's feelings for Mildred prevented him from being completely free in his thoughts or actions?"
after thirty years I don't remember any Mildred at all! But I would say Fanny Price - she is in bondage to her feelings therefore she comes to a sad end, Phiilip Carey has maybe some potential to escape bondage? Spinoza says: Human infirmity in moderating and checking the emotions I name bondage: for, when a man is a prey to his emotions, he is not his own master, but lies at the mercy of fortune
I'm just as uncomfortable if I don't read as if I don't smoke,Fortunately the first addiction in general is less bad for health (and certainly a less stinky habit) ) - it would be like having to give up breathing, isn't it, Fionnuala? Comparing Philip with the El Greco figure, he sounds a pretty tormented character. I've been wanting to read this since joining GR and the fact that Philip joined your rank of memorable characters makes me eager to meet him as well.
I loved your reflections on the family bookcase, which if not directly prompting you to read Maugham pointed you to other treasures that showed you the way to the fabulous reading journeys you've ventured into. Maugham wasn't among the few books at my parents' home but there was one daunting one that coloured what I picked up to read for many years: War and Peace. You make me wonder how much serendipitous choices of books we make at impressionable age have an impact on us and the reading journeys we eventually take.
Laysee wrote: "Fionnuala, I love the meditation on reading, which you quoted. I can certainly relate to it. I read this book years ago and recall being rather moved by it..."Philip's plight is truly very moving, Laysee, orphaned young, burdened with a birth defect that plagues his life, lacking money and direction, and being at the mercy of someone who exploits him endlessly. When I describe it like that, it seems such a hopeless story. But the wonder of it is, it's not! I'm very glad to have finally read it.
Ulysse wrote: "Oh I am so glad you and Philip Carey have finally become friends!I also immediately thought of the Henry James story when the conversation about the Persian carpet came up. Such a perfect metaphor for "the meaning of life" which, like Beauty, is in the eye of the beholder...."
I do feel great satisfaction at having finally met Philip Carey, Ulysse. Isn't it funny the things that mean so much to us readers? Non-readers would think we were crazy:-)
I'm guessing both Henry James and Somerset Maugham had heard about the signs and symbols that are said to be part of the pattern of a Persian carpet, and realised how useful a metaphor they are.
As for the word 'bondage' in the title, it does confuse, doesn't it? Especially as the blurb on my edition contains the words, at its centre the terrifying experience of a masochistic sexual obsession
I was sorry that I'd read that blurb because it really mixed me up. I kept waiting for the 'masochistic sexual obsession' to happen, not realising it had already happened, and wasn't at all terrifying, just very annoying, since the character concerned kept turning up to plague me as well as Philip. Was her role in the story a bit overdone, do you think?
Cheryl wrote: "Ah, thank you for reminding me of Philip, such a nuanced character who represents the complexities of life. I’ve read 3 books by Somerset M. and this is definitely my favorite."Philip does have a lot of depth to him indeed, Cheryl. You're the second or third person in this thread to say that this is their favourite Maugham book. I've two more lined up to read and am hoping they don't fall too far short of it:-(
Dolors wrote: "What a pleasure, to read your thoughts on Philip, Fionnuala. He made a deep impression on me, as he came across as a bizarre blend between a Dickensinian and a Proustian creature, obsessed but grounded on his reality, blinded by obsession, irrationally bonded to another being for reasons difficult to explain?His growth in the novel is remarkable..."
I didn't think of Proust, Dolors, but of course, Philip suffers like Swann over Odette, and the narrator over Albertine. And yes, he manages to overcome his obsessive love and grows remarkably strong and resilient in the course of the book. Thanks for giving me new literary cousins for Philip, Dolors:-)
Violeta wrote: "I embarked on this review, thinking that I would finally figure out the meaning of a title that has always held on to my imagination (it implied something sinister and unsettling, but I'm probably wrong..."It seems many of us have been puzzling over the meaning of this title for years, Violeta, and imagining all sorts of sinister explanations for it! If Somerset Maugham were around today, he'd have a good laugh at our imaginings! Philip might smile too at the thought of his story being associated with anything sinister or even mildly unsettling. Far from it. His story is utterly wholesome—though beset by difficulties, some caused by his own wholesomeness and generosity of spirit. When you concluded that he's a pleasant and enticing character, you were absolutely right!
David wrote: "Ok, I am in on this book with all the art, Fionnuala!"Go for it, David.
Candi wrote: "My introduction to Maugham was a used, well-loved paperback of The Moon and Sixpence. I was so dazzled by it at the time that I went on rather quickly to read The Razor's Edge and then this one..."I'm going to be reading them in the opposite order to you, Candi, as I'm hoping to start The Razor's Edge this evening and The Moon and Sixpence right after that. I love not having to wonder what I'm going to read next. It might well be March before I have to ask myself that question next;-)
Left Coast Justin wrote: "This book sat on my family bookshelf throughout my childhood, Fionnuala, but it has never occurred to me to seek it out and try to read it. I do love the El Greco comparison."Based on the testimony in this review thread, Justin, I'm imagining homes around the world complete with bookshelves, and wedged firmly into many of them, this book, unopened for years!
The sales of Maugham's novel must have been phenomenal in its day! I hope he benefitted in his lifetime. If there's even a little bit of autobiography in Philip's story (the blurb says there is), Maugham must have known some hungry times.
And he's acutely aware of the subtle sensations of the human soul.Hence the hilt of that sword?
I, too, read Maugham early and certainly not as well as I might read him now. Tokens well spent, indeed, and spent for me in these attendings to Henry James and Austen! Your linkages are always fascinating. ;-)
Fionnuala, I will be following your journey through Maugham's works with interest. I have seen a few of his plays over the years, and have yet to read one of his novels. I am interested to see the views of you and other GR friends on your thread, hoping to be pointed to the right starting place for me.
Fionnuala wrote: "I was sorry that I'd read that blurb because it really mixed me up. I kept waiting for the 'masochistic sexual obsession' to happen, not realising it had already happened, and wasn't at all terrifying, just very annoying, since the character concerned kept turning up to plague me as well as Philip. Was her role in the story a bit overdone, do you think?"Blurbs are evil, capitalistic blobs marring the covers of books. Some days I feel I could go on an anti-blurb crusade, but laziness and a disposition to avoid confrontation prevent me from doing so.
As for Mildred (what a dreadful name, sorry if anyone here is called Mildred) she stuck around like a bad blurb and yes I agree she was slightly over-the-top and I was so glad to see the back of her.
Jan-Maat wrote: "..after thirty years I don't remember any Mildred at all! But I would say Fanny Price - she is in bondage to her feelings therefore she comes to a sad end, Phiilip Carey has maybe some potential to escape bondage? Spinoza says: Human infirmity in moderating and checking the emotions I name bondage: for, when a man is a prey to his emotions, he is not his own master, but lies at the mercy of fortune..."I'm encouraged that you've forgotten Mildred so completely, Jann. Thanks for the further explanations of the title. It's making more and more sense. Yes, Philip's real infirmity was his irrational attachment to his own idealization of Mildred in spite of the reality of her life and behavior. Pygmalion and Galatea were mentioned at one point, I think, and that was kind of Philip's situation when you think about it—he'd fallen in love with Mildred's physical form as if it were a sketch on a page or a statue in the round, but he was oblivious/willfully blind to her actual flesh and blood existence.
Ilse wrote: ""I'm just as uncomfortable if I don't read as if I don't smoke"Fortunately the first addiction in general is less bad for health (and certainly a less stinky habit) ) - it would be like having to give up breathing..."
Oh, yes, Ilse, here's hoping we can still read for as long as we can still breathe!
Philip smoked a pipe and even when he had little to eat, it comforted him—and maybe it was less bad for his breathing than cigarettes might have been? His fondness for his pipe convinced me that Somerset Maugham must have been a keen pipe-smoker too.
I just checked and he was—and lived to be 91!
PS, interesting to hear that War and Peace was one of the books you were exposed to as a child. How well it formed you for Russian literature!
Fionnuala wrote: "Jan-Maat wrote: "..after thirty years I don't remember any Mildred at all! But I would say Fanny Price - she is in bondage to her feelings therefore she comes to a sad end, Phiilip Carey has maybe ..."I forget a lot :( , it is impressive how little is actual memorable after a few decades :). yes, it all makes good sense how you see the connection between the title and the characters now - a splash of philosophy has its uses afterall!
Antigone wrote: ""And he's acutely aware of the subtle sensations of the human soul."Hence the hilt of that sword?
I, too, read Maugham early and certainly not as well as I might read him now. Tokens well spent..."
That sword hilt is very fine, isn't it, Antigone! Only a person of extremely heightened sensibility could surely own it—or paint it, or admire it as deeply as Philip does El Greco's work;-)
I do think there's an optimum time in one's life to read certain books and this book has opened for me at such an optimal time. The young reader who gazed at its spine way back would have done nothing but scan the words, no meaning would have entered her mind. A little later maybe, this book might have meant a little more but still I think the reading would have been a bit like how Philip thinks of his friend Hayward's attitudes to words and ideas: "Hayward could still talk delightfully about books; his taste was exquisite ...and he had a constant interest in ideas. They meant nothing to him really, since they never had any effect on him; but he treated them as he might have pieces of china in an auction-room, handling them with pleasure in their shape and their glaze, pricing them in his mind; and then, putting them back into their case, thought of them no more."
It is only in the last few years that I don't put the words and ideas I come across back in their cases. Now I keep them with me all the time and handle them often:-)
Lisa wrote: "Fionnuala, I will be following your journey through Maugham's works with interest. I have seen a few of his plays over the years, and have yet to read one of his novels..."It's amazing that Maugham's name is one the goodreaders on this comment thread all seem familiar with for one reason or another, Lisa—or maybe it's just that no one on this thread is under thirty;-)
Ulysse wrote: "Blurbs are evil, capitalistic blobs marring the covers of books...As for Mildred (what a dreadful name, sorry if anyone here is called Mildred) she stuck around like a bad blurb and yes I agree she was slightly over-the-top and I was so glad to see the back of her.."I almost wondered if you were having a bad day, Ulysse, except I can't imagine you ever having one, plus you're absolutely right about blurbs and about Mildred!
Jan-Maat wrote: "I forget a lot :( , it is impressive how little is actual memorable after a few decades :). yes, it all makes good sense how you see the connection between the title and the characters now - a splash of philosophy has its uses afterall!..."It does indeed, Jann. Thank you for setting me straight. I think Maugham may even have mentioned Spinoza but my eyes only scanned the philosophy parts, I retained little or nothing of them:-)
