Very impressive book. Loosely based on the life of Paul Gauguin, it is an examination of the compulsion to create art, regardless of the personal cost. The main character, Charles Strickland, is exceedingly dislikeable - he verges on the sociopathic - but is also admirable in some ways. The narrator too has his moral weakness - in particular, his fascination with Strickland and inability to wholly condemn his more egomanical excesses - so there are no moral centres in the book. The characters can also display breathtaking misogyny, and (comparatively mild) racism, although whether those are also the attitudes of Maugham is impossible tell (one suspects - and hopes - not).

The passages about the nature of art, and the drive to create, are beautiful and compelling. The story of Strickland's life is fascinating too, and some of the writing is wonderful. And, it has to be said, all Strickland's misanthrophy and selfishness make for a tremendously compelling read. Maybe I shouldn't judge the narrator's fascination too harshly.
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For some reason even seeing the title of this book gives me what can only be described as fond feelings, and that alone justifies a review.

I read this book because it is mentioned in one of my favorite books ever, "No One Writes Back" by Jang Eun-Jin. In a one off story, the main character describes the time his brother spontaneously took him on a train ride to nowhere. After hours of seemingly aimless and increasingly concerning travel, the brother suddenly turns them back around and they return home as if nothing happened. This strange journey was prompted by "The Moon and Sixpence", which the brother had been reading at the time. He had been preparing for an important exam and was about to commit to a lifetime of academics (or perhaps politics, if I am remembering correctly) when he was taken by the spirit of the book and ran away for a day, just to see what it was like. It was the last novel he ever read.

What I mean to say (besides that you should really read "No One Writes Back") is that anecdote really captures the essence of "The Moon and Sixpence". At its core, it is a book about breaking away from what is expected of you, regardless of the consequences.

Beyond all that, it has an extremely amiable tone which makes it a quick and fun read, and the plot points are so ridiculous that you will find yourself telling anyone who listens about Strickland's antics. It would be a five star read, if I did not reserve that for my all-time favorite books. ( )

"The Moon and Sixpence" by Somerset Maugham is a fictional biography of the artist Paul Gauguin. The narrative is so masterfully crafted that it feels like real events are being presented by the author. The novel tells the story of a person who disrupts a normative family life to embark on the uncertain journey of creativity and personal discovery.

It presents a part of all of us as we sometimes find ourselves on an uncertain path due to inner psychic compulsion or changed circumstances. Such disruptions can help us learn new things about ourselves, but they often come at a significant cost.

Maugham's storytelling skills are on full display in this book, and he captivates his readers to the extent that you cannot rest until you finish the book. ( )

Here's what I wrote in 2008 about this read: "Fiction, but based loosely on the life of Paul Gaugin, who left his family to pursue painting first in Paris, and then in Tahiti. Engaging and insightful to the world of artists. Find deeper meanings in online reviews . . . " ( )

It must be said up front that I am a huge fan of Maugham. I like his writing style, which always makes me feel as if I am sitting with a friend and he is telling me about someone he actually knows. With this conversational tone, Maugham leads you into the depths of the human soul and sometimes leaves you to find your own way out.

Based very loosely on the life of Paul Gauguin, this novel is a study in how much a true artist will do for the sake of his art: not only how much he will endure, but how much he will inflict upon others. You cannot like Maugham's character, Strickland, nor, I think, can you truly understand him. Even our narrator never manages to understand the man, and he has been observing him for a lifetime. I can't help wondering how much Maugham felt that he was, himself, a man who had to follow his art at any cost. Of course, for Strickland and anyone who happens to come too close to him, the costs are extreme.

One of the important questions Maugham raises in this novel is what makes up success and who gets to decide if you are successful. Is it truly about how much you acquire outwardly or how much you acquire inwardly?

"I wondered if Abraham really had made a hash of life. Is to do what you want, to live under the conditions that please you, in peace with yourself, to make a hash of life; and is it success to be an eminent surgeon with ten thousand a year and a beautiful wife? I suppose it depends on what meaning you attach to life, the claim which you acknowledge to society, and the claim of the individual."

I think Maugham thought that we too often attach the wrong meaning to life, that we strive too often for what others tell us should be our want instead of the things that our soul cries out for in the night. None of us wishes to be Strickland. Hell, we don't even want to know Strickland, but each of us is faced with his same choice--cut our own path or follow the dictates of society--and too often we make the wrong decision. ( )