Somerset Maugham is one of my favorite authors. He wrote books and novels predominantly in the 1920's and 1930's. His work gives a great insight to the weaknesses of human nature. All the foibles and insecurities that make up a person. A lot of it is not always kind and often dwells on the difficulties that people faced. Whilst the stories are not necessarily specific to a particular individual, they are most likely observations that Maugham had made throughout his life. There are two short stories that have always stood out in my mind with the message that was being conveyed.
The first one is called "Jane" and it is about a middle aged woman who marries a much younger man. Her sister in law is horrified and expects the marriage to last only for a short time. Jane is a frumpy and middle aged widow and also rather plain. What would a younger man see in her. Within a couple of years, Jane is the toast of the town. Her husband designs the most amazing clothes for her and she turns out to be the wittiest thing on the block. But her sister in law cannot, for the life of her, understand what everyone finds so amusing about Jane. She personally finds her dull. When she tackles Jane on why people find her so amusing the reply she gets is "Well, I only tell the truth". The sister in law says "well, I don't find that funny at all". And Jane says "Maybe you do not know the truth when you see it". It struck a chord in me at the time. Sometimes we really do not know the truth when we see it staring at us face on. It made me wonder if we choose not to see the truths in our life as it will point to the untruths about ourselves. The other thought that came to my mind when I read it was that the sister in law thought she knew Jane but obviously did not. Which shows that sometimes you really do think you know someone and then one day you find you never knew them at all.
The second story is called "The Colonels Wife". This is an interesting one about the full conceit of a terribly English gentleman. This man has been married for 25 years or so, has no children, has a mistress in London, thinks himself a jolly good fellow doing and saying all the right things. He is typical private school pratt full of his own self importance. Loves to be well-liked, does all the right things (hunting etc). He believes his wife to be a bit boring, mousy but also a good housekeeper, socially suitable and no real trouble (despite the fact she bore him no heir). One morning she gives him a copy of a book of poetry she has written in her maiden name. He cannot be bothered reading it but lies and tells her it is jolly good anyway - he pities her for thinking she could possibly write anything. However, over the next few weeks people are raving about this novel. It is a hit, they are invited to parties and weekends away just so people can meet his wife. He notices, however, that people frequently look at him in a rather strange way. Finally he decides to read the novel. To his horror, he realises that it is about an affair between an older woman and a younger man that lasts for three years. It is full of sensuality and tenderness but at the end the young man dies and it is full of pain of his death. The woman speaks of having to keep her loss and her grief to herself, go to dinner parties, make small talk, run the house and keep going as though nothing has touched her heart. The husband, upon finishing the book, realises that this is about his wife. She has cuckoled him and he knew nothing at all. Despite all this, all he can think about is how he feels - he has been made a fool of etc. He cannot understand what the man saw in his wife. There are two things that came to my mind when I read this story. One being that the man only thought of what he felt, what he wanted, what his needs were without once thinking of the pain his wife must have gone through. Second, that his wife had to carry her sadness, her loss, her pain of losing her love - yet at the same time being happy that at least she had the memory of that love to sustain her. Private grieving amongst the living ignorant - no-one should be subjected to that.
Tonight I picked up the collection of short stories by Somerset Maugham and read those two particular stories and it filled me with the enthusiasm and joy to once again learn so much from just a few pages.
Reading and writing are such pleasureable activities. Sometimes when I go into someone's house and notice they have no books I pity them their loss. I wonder if it is because they are stupid or just like remaining unaware of so much that can be gained by opening a book. I understand if they are not into reading and pursue other interests. But some people have no interests at all. So many people just base their lives on the external pleasures and it can be a trap we all may fall into but if one stays in that trap, that empty and shallow life, well that is a worse state to be in.
Yesterday I picked up my paper and pencils and started drawing and after an hour of struggle I started to feel that lovely creative urge come into me again. It was almost as though a fog had lifted, the apathy of living external pleasures only had shifted and I was ready to open my eyes.
It is early days yet, but my mind is racing with ideas. I bought new pads and pencils and cannot wait for another spare moment when I can put more down on paper.
Whether what I do is good or not is irrelevant - it is that I do it that counts. And if other people do not like what I do, I just fall back on something that was said to me recently - "Other peoples opinions may matter but they are not absolute". What a thought, I now carry it with me.
There is a funny expression I think of that my father always said to me "If you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas". Now, I cannot say that it relates to any episode in particular, but it really is an apt expression isn't it. I am sure when S brings home his friends I may bring that comment out of the box every now and then.
Oh, just a brief run down on what I did today. Went into work for a couple of hours in the morning, did a family trip down to Tyabb, went to Chadstone and then food shopping. So a rather full day indeed. I feel my weekends are mine to do what I like with - although I do think I am going to have to work a couple of them soon with the BAS coming up. And, better than that, I spent to whole weekend without make-up so I could rub my eyes whenever they itched.
Well, sleep well.
Ciao
LC
