"We go lonely, side by side but not together, unable to know our fellows and unknown by them." This somewhat pessimistic view of human nature frequently appears in the text: "I had not yet learned how contradictory is human nature; I did not know how much pose there is in the sincere, how much baseness in the noble, or how much goodness in the reprobate." "I have learnt that man is incalculable." "I expected then people to be more of a piece than I do now." "Each one of us is alone in the world. He is shut in a tower of brass, and can communicate with his fellows only by signs, and the signs have no common value, so that their sense is vague and uncertain."

Both the plot and the characterization reinforce this perspective. Almost no one comprehends Strickland (least of all his own wife); even the narrator confesses to being uncertain about many aspects of the artist's character. His feelings toward Strickland fluctuate throughout the novel, ranging from sheer horror at the man's indifference to the suicide he indirectly caused, to admiration for his dedication to his art. The title of the novel originates from a review of Of Human Bondage (1915; see separate entry), where the critic observed that Philip Carey is so fixated on looking at the "moon" that he overlooks the sixpence at his feet. While various interpretations of this phrase in relation to the book's content exist, the straightforward reading is that Strickland is devoted to the "moon" of his artistic vision, making him oblivious to the "sixpence" of ordinary life. Indeed, the unremarkable businessman the narrator encounters in the opening London section of the book starkly contrasts with the rough, emotionally detached artist he confronts in Paris.

Following the tragic events involving the Stroeves, the narrator interviews Strickland, discovering his apathy towards Blanche's fate ("Do you really care a two penny damn if Blanche Stroeve is alive or dead?"). He views some of Strickland's paintings and then parts ways with him. "A week later I heard by chance that Strickland had gone to Marseilles. I never saw him again." For the next nearly 100 pages of the book, the narrator recounts information relayed to him by individuals who encountered Strickland afterward.

The first of these individuals is Captain Nichols, whom the narrator meets in Tahiti years later. This rugged seaman describes Strickland's challenging time in the poorer areas of the port city, culminating in his almost miraculous escape on a steamer headed for the South Seas. The narrator then meets a trader named Cohen, who travels among the islands around Tahiti. Cohen hired Strickland primarily because he was an artist, noting, "We don't get many painters in the islands." This kind man attempted to assist Strickland by purchasing one of his paintings, which he later learned was worth a fortune.

Tiare Johnson, the owner of the hotel where the narrator stays, provides extensive information about Strickland's early years in Tahiti. This includes his "marriage," largely orchestrated by Tiare, to Ata, and his life in the jungle. This charming woman, based on someone Maugham met in the islands, helps the narrator connect with Captain Brunot, who offers further insights into Strickland's life in his small house in the island's wilderness. They played chess, drank, and conversed. The narrator concludes that "the next three years were the happiest of Strickland's life."

Dr. Coutras, who befriended Strickland as much as the artist allowed, recounts the end of Strickland's life. From him, the narrator learns about the immense sacrifice Charles Strickland made for his art: he contracted leprosy, went blind for a year, and died in agony. The doctor, whom Strickland typically refused to see, reveals the novel's true climax. He tells of Strickland's decision to burn down his house, which he had painted with magnificent scenes, right before he died. It is only in the company of the doctor that the narrator attempts to describe one of Strickland's paintings. In giving the painting to the doctor, Strickland made a rare acknowledgment of his work's value: "Take this picture. It means nothing to you now, but it may be that one day you will be glad to have it." The narrator describes the painting: "The colours were so strange that words can hardly tell what a troubling emotion they gave. There were sombre blues, opaque like a delicately carved bowl of lapis lazuli, and yet with a quivering lustre that suggested the palpitation of mysterious life . . ."

Since he was absent and did not inquire, no detailed account of Strickland's deteriorated body as he approached death is provided (unlike what Zola would have undoubtedly done). True to form, the narrator shares only what he learns from various sources about Strickland's life and demise. Each character offers crucial information and perspectives on this talented yet tormented artist.