zhliu0124 reviewed Moon And Sixpence by William Somerset Maugham
Review of 'Moon And Sixpence' on 'Goodreads'
4 stars
I hate Charles Strickland.
Paperback, 192 pages
English language
Published Aug. 31, 2005 by Alan Rodgers Books.
According to The Manchester Guardian review of 1919 (here quoted and contains spoilers) "Mr. Maugham has followed a recognised convention in this story of an imaginary artist of posthumous greatness. He treats him throughout with mock respect, and surrounds his affairs with contributory detail. Mr. Maugham's story is that of a respectable stockbroker who deserts his wife after seventeen years of marriage and goes alone to Paris to follow a new ideal - the ideal of great and for a time unrecognisable art. The break is succeeded by privation and industry, by long periods of work and outbursts of savage sexual conquest; and the artist at length dies, blind and leprous, in Tahiti". The book is told by a narrator and is said to be based on the life of the French 20th century painter Paul Gauguin.
I hate Charles Strickland.
The ironic tale of a man who surrenders everything, ostensibly in pursuit of art, but who's probably just a sociopath.
I liked this for a while, but I was never able to feel much for Strickland; his "greatness" is not well conveyed, and he's quite an asshole.
It didn't help that the book is sprinkled with racism.
I was amused to think of Mr. Peanut Butter playing the role of Dirk Stroeve. That was something.
Gauguin was such a cunt he was barred from Parisian arty society (not the most genteel in itself) and went to Tahiti where he shagged underage girls and gave them the clap.
He also may have painted a now-extinct bird in one of his pictures.
The end.
A good book, if a tad repetitious. I get it, his mouth his sensual. Hard to overlook the endless sexism as well. But it stays within itself, doesn't try too hard, and the narrative, when not expostulating on how women like things to be just so, is engaging.