in Marseilles, but lived on the street or in shelters for the homeless. The impersonality and violence of Marseilles stripped away the trappings of civilization that had limited Strickland’s artistic vision, reducing Strickland to nothing more than his desire to paint. Since Marseilles is also the oldest city in France, Strickland is also moving backward through time, trying to reach a place as pure and original as his vision of the world.

*Tahiti

*Tahiti. French Polynesian colony, the largest of the Society Islands in the South Pacific, that is Strickland’s last home. During one of his talks with the narrator in Paris, Strickland said that he longed for an island in a “boundless sea” where he could find what he sought. Though he begins his time on the island with regular visits to the capital city of Papeete, Strickland eventually marries a Tahitian woman and moves into the bush, completely giving up on Western civilization. Though he is still considered odd in Papeete, Strickland fits in more fully on this beautiful island than anywhere else he has lived, and, accordingly, there are more people who appreciate his art. Maugham blends observations from his own travels with descriptions of paintings done by Gauguin. However, as in all places in the novel, he focuses almost entirely on only three types of Tahitian locations: places where people come together to talk, such as bars and restaurants; domestic settings; and places seen through Strickland’s art.

Strickland’s hut

Strickland’s hut. Tiny hut in which Strickland lives with his Tahitian wife, Ata. The novel begins and ends in domestic spaces, but the dramatic difference between the first and last communicates Maugham’s views on the power of art. In London, Strickland is dying spiritually and has to abandon a home that almost everyone would regard as beautiful. In Tahiti, he contracts leprosy. Now feared by the Tahitians, Strickland lives out his final years in ecstasy as he paints his own vision of paradise into being. He eventually covers every inch of his hut’s walls with portraits of his own re-creation of the Garden of Eden, re-creating that mythic place in Polynesia. Because he is bringing his vision of the world into being, Strickland dies happy within his crumbling jungle hut.

Maugham employs his usual technique of using a narrator who has some interaction with the main character(s) of the story but also relies on the insights of others who have known or at least encountered the central figure(s). In The Moon and Sixpence, this approach is highly effective. As the narrator shares what he knows or has heard, the reader gains a sense of authenticity, especially since the narrator readily admits to not knowing everything, much like in real life. He does not pretend to fully understand Strickland or to grasp the full extent of his genius, except to note that it has a primitive quality that strongly impacts the viewer.

This perspective is ideal for a novel based on the life and myth of a world-famous artist. An omniscient point of view, for instance, would have undermined the realistic portrayal of a unique genius. Maugham had studied the life of Gauguin, beginning in Tahiti, and was captivated by the story of this extraordinary artist. The author simplified the narrative significantly and modified many of the facts to fit his purpose. The outcome was a novel that achieved phenomenal success upon its release in 1919, during a time when a war-weary world craved an escapist story about someone who defies societal norms and abandons duties and responsibilities. Utilizing the retrospective technique also allows the author to discuss the artist after his death, at a point when his talent has been acknowledged, making the story of his life even more poignant and compelling.

The initial step in sparking a meaningful discussion might be to examine the life and career of Paul Gauguin. This could help identify how much and in what ways Maugham altered the facts to craft an engaging novel. Focus could be placed on the significant differences between the real and fictional artists' personalities. Additionally, one might consider whether Maugham's modifications of Gauguin's life were justified for literary purposes.

Given that the novel gained popularity partly due to its Tahitian setting, the importance of location should be considered. The digression on Dr. Abraham serves as an example of what Maugham thought about the significance of setting. Analyzing Maugham's own extensively traveled life could also provide valuable insights. Despite his extensive travels, Maugham eventually settled, as much as he ever did, in southern France.

The author's implied views on women, marriage, and their impact on the artist could also foster lively discussions, especially when contrasted with modern perspectives. A key question is whether Strickland's dedication to his art justifies his ruthless treatment of others. Wagner serves as a comparable figure in music. Does genius warrant special privileges in its interactions with society?

1. Among London, Paris, Marseilles, and Tahiti, which locale is the most vividly depicted and integral to the novel? Is there any indication of the author's intention regarding this? Does he aim for one setting to be particularly prominent?

2. How does the narrator's perspective on Strickland evolve throughout the story? Is this change in attitude justified by the plot's events?

3. Is there sufficient evidence in the text to support the idea that conventionality stifles true artistic talent? Additionally, is the narrator accurate in claiming that suffering does not enhance but rather corrupts artistic ability? Does the novel support this assertion?

4. Do the footnotes, seemingly intended to lend an air of reality to the text, achieve this goal? Or do they serve as unnecessary distractions from the plot?

5. Which of the "reporters" interviewed by the narrator seems to have the deepest understanding of Strickland and tells their story most effectively? Does this "choice" appear to be a deliberate decision by Maugham, or is it merely a result of plot necessities?

6. Considering what is known about Maugham's life, are the autobiographical elements in the novel effective in developing its themes? Do the narrator's statements about life, people, and art stem from his experiences in the story, or do they appear to be influenced by the author's own life experiences?

7. Does Dirk Stroeve's character elicit genuine sympathy, particularly considering his choice to return to Holland and his family home after Blanche's suicide?

8. It has been suggested that Maugham's female characters fit into specific "types." Does this seem accurate in The Moon and Sixpence? Are Amy Strickland, Blanche Stroeve, and Ata too stereotyped to be believable as fully developed characters?

9. The novel spans roughly twenty years. Is Maugham's treatment of time effective? Can the reader easily follow the different time periods, ensuring a clear understanding of Strickland's life progression?

10. Are Maugham's depictions of the various forms of love in the novel convincing? Is Blanche's obsession, Ata's submissiveness, and Amy's adaptability believable? Do these instances represent true love, or are they distortions of it?

The social themes in this novel should captivate modern readers. One of the most notable themes is the role of the artist in society and their relationship to it, which is particularly relevant given the ongoing debate about whether the government should fund artists and artistic endeavors. While patronage, both private and public, has supported the arts for many years, some argue that artists should rely solely on public taste. Few would agree with Oscar Wilde's assertion that the primary function of society is to support and encourage the artist.

In The Moon and Sixpence, W. Somerset Maugham introduces an atypical "artist" character. Charles Strickland not only defies society, as many artists have done before, but he outright ignores it. Loosely based on the life and career of Paul Gauguin, the novel depicts an artist who completely "drops out" of society. Strickland neither expects support for his work nor cares if anyone appreciates it. He feels no obligation toward humanity. When the narrator questions him about abandoning his wife and two children to pursue his art, Strickland responds that he supported his wife for a long time and now she should support herself.

This indifferent attitude toward everyday life is central to Strickland's character. The narrator, who often seems to speak for Maugham himself, serves as a useful tool to guide readers' reactions to Strickland's actions and attitudes. As a writer, the narrator's reaction is mixed. Although he condemns almost all of Strickland's personal behavior and opinions, he also expresses a reluctant admiration for a man who can tell so many people to "go to hell," even when it is not in his best interest, including the narrator himself. The narrator admits knowing little about Strickland's work habits, never having seen the artist at work, and provides minimal description of his paintings, which Strickland guarded closely. However, after the world has recognized Strickland's work and after his death, the narrator offers a heartfelt summary: Strickland lived more poorly than an artisan.

He worked tirelessly. He had no interest in the things that most people find make life charming and delightful. He was unconcerned with wealth. Fame did not matter to him. You cannot commend him for resisting the temptations to make compromises with the world that many of us succumb to. He faced no such temptations. The idea of compromise never crossed his mind. He lived in Paris, more isolated than a hermit in the deserts of Thebes. He asked nothing from others except to be left alone. His focus was singular, and to achieve his goal, he was willing to sacrifice not only himself—something many can do—but also others. He had a vision. Strickland was a detestable man, but I still believe he was a great one.

This passage, written about the artist after the narrator's final encounter with him, encapsulates what is likely Maugham's view of ultimate artistic dedication. In this novel, society holds almost no significance.

There is much to discuss regarding the next topic of social concern: the family in general, women in general, and wives in particular. The scene where the narrator confronts the artist in Paris, prompted by Amy Strickland and her family after his abandonment, may shock readers, especially in today's context of family responsibility. To each of the narrator's efforts to stir any sense of regret, remorse, or conscience, Strickland responds with utter indifference. Finally, speaking on behalf of the wife, the narrator says, "She's willing to forget everything that's happened and start afresh. She'll never make you a single reproach." Strickland replies, "She can go to hell."

The narrator concludes that, "with such a man," one could not expect "the appeal to conscience to be effective. You might as well ask for a reflection without a mirror." In societal terms, about all that could be said in Strickland's favor, if anything at all, is that he is consistent. The narrator (perhaps influenced by Maugham's own failed marriage) seems to accept some of Strickland's views on domestic life and women. Even after the tragic, or at least pathetic, suicide of Dirk Stroeve's wife, Blanche, who took her life after Strickland seduced her away from her husband, the narrator comments on the difference between men and women regarding their commitment to romantic love. To modern readers, his attitudes might seem heartless: "Here lies the unreality of fiction. For in men, as a rule, love is but an episode which takes its place among the other affairs of the day... There are few men to whom it is the most important thing in the world... As lovers, the difference between men and women is that women can love all day long, but men only at times."

It comes as no surprise, then, that the narrator quite understands Strickland's concept of the perfect family: the native girl Ata, whom he "marries" in Tahiti and who provides him with sexual satisfaction, tends to his household, looks after the children, and then leaves him alone. Such a simplistic interpretation of family life could, perhaps, appeal only to an artist of Strickland's type.

Lastly, social convention in general means nothing to Strickland. The narrator develops a certain admiration for Strickland's single-minded dedication to art over conventional life. When the artist first explains his abandonment of his family and a normal life, his statement "I want to paint" is, to him, a sufficient explanation and justification for rejecting societal norms and living as he feels compelled to. Perhaps Maugham should have termed him a "great artist," not a "great man."

The roman à clef, a novel that uses real individuals as the basis for characters with altered names (and sometimes changed traits), is a long-standing genre of fiction. An early instance of this is Thomas Love Peacock's Nightmare Abbey (1818), which satirizes Byron, Coleridge, and Shelley. Other notable examples featuring artists as subjects include Maugham's Of Human Bondage and James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916).

The Künstlerroman genre, depicting the artist as a suffering hero, is also well-represented, especially in works from the early 20th century. Noteworthy titles include Thomas Hardy's The Well-Beloved (1903), D. H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers (1913; see separate entry), Willa Cather's The Song of the Lark (1915), and Theodore Dreiser's The Genius (1915), among many others.

Of Human Bondage, The Moon and Sixpence, and Cakes and Ale (1930; see separate entry) are often regarded by critics and literary historians as either primarily or partially autobiographical. Numerous elements, such as Philip Carey's medical career and the literary pursuits of the narrator and Ashenden, are drawn from the author's own life. Additionally, many of the perspectives in these novels reflect Maugham's personal views on people and life in general.

While Maugham asserted that he was merely conveying the truth, many readers detect a cynicism and occasional melancholy in his works that might mirror his life experiences. He famously remarked that people were tolerable as long as they maintained their distance, disliked being touched, and endured an unsuccessful marriage, which seemingly tainted his perception of women and marriage (as vividly depicted in The Moon and Sixpence).

His role as an observer, commentator, and sometimes interpreter of the characters and events in his stories is particularly evident in The Razor's Edge (1944; see separate entry). Therefore, it can be said that these four major novels share common themes, attitudes, and techniques.

An opera adaptation of the novel was staged by Sadler Wells in London in 1958. The libretto, crafted by Patrick Terry, manager of the Covent Garden Opera Company, was paired with music composed by John Gardner. The production achieved only moderate success, primarily due to its somewhat dissonant score. As anticipated, the opera primarily centers on the artist's life in Tahiti. It is rarely revived.

A more successful adaptation was the 1943 film version of the novel. In this iteration, George Sanders portrayed Strickland, with Herbert Marshall serving as the narrator. This version also predominantly takes place in the South Seas. Albert Lewin both wrote the screenplay and directed the film. The cinematography was handled by John Seitz, and the music was composed by Dmitri Tiomkin. Similar to The Picture of Dorian Gray (based on the Oscar Wilde novel), the film employed a mix of black and white footage with color. While The Picture of Dorian Gray sporadically uses color, The Moon and Sixpence reserves it for the climax, showcasing Strickland's vibrant paintings in full color. Some critics argued that this technique felt too contrived and detracted from the movie's artistic impact.