Podcasts about Somerset Maugham

Jordan spoke to director Eli Craig a few days before his new (third) feature made an outsized impact at the indie box office, becoming IFC's best-ever opening. They speak about the genesis of that film, 'Clown in a Cornfield,' and about the surprising actor/writer turn Bill Murray took in 1984's 'The Razor's Edge,' as a man on the quest for a better way to live in difficult times.Then Jordan has one quick thing about the new trailer for 'Nobody 2'!***With Jordan Crucchiola & Eli Craig Feeling Seen is hosted by Jordan Crucchiola and is a production Maximum Fun.Need more Feeling Seen? Keep up with the show on Instagram and Bluesky.

Clare Carlisle's biography of George Eliot, The Marriage Question, is one of my favourite modern biographies, so I was really pleased to interview Clare. We talked about George Eliot as a feminist, the imperfections of her “marriage” to George Henry Lewes, what she learned from Spinoza, having sympathy for Casaubon, contradictions in Eliot's narrative method, her use of negatives, psychoanalysis, Middlemarch, and more. We also talked about biographies of philosophers, Kierkegaard, and Somerset Maugham. I was especially pleased by Clare's answer about the reported decline in student attention spans. Overall I thought this was a great discussion. Many thanks to Clare! Full transcript below. Here is an extract from our discussion about Eliot's narrative ideas.Clare: Yes, that's right. The didactic thing, George Eliot is sometimes criticized for this didacticism because what's most effective in the novel is not the narrator coming and telling us we should actually feel sorry for Casaubon and we should sympathize with him. We'd be better people if we sympathize with Casaubon. There's a moralizing lecture about, you should feel sympathy for this unlikable person. What is more effective is the subtle way she portrays this character and, as I say, lets us into his vulnerabilities in some obvious ways, as you say, by pointing things out, but also in some more subtle ways of drawing his character and hinting at, as I say, his vulnerabilities.Henry: Doesn't she know, though, that a lot of readers won't actually be very moved by the subtle things and that she does need to put in a lecture to say, "I should tell you that I am very personally sympathetic to Mr. Casaubon and that if you leave this novel hating him, that's not--"? Isn't that why she does it? Because she knows that a lot of readers will say, "I don't care. He's a baddie."Clare: Yes I don't know, that's a good question.Henry: I'm interested because, in The Natural History of German Life, she goes to all these efforts to say abstract arguments and philosophy and statistics and such, these things don't change the world. Stories change the world. A picture of life from a great artist. Then when she's doing her picture of life from a great artist she constantly butts in with her philosophical abstractions because it's, she can't quite trust that the reader will get it right as it were.Clare: Yes, I suppose that's one way of looking at it. You could say that or maybe does she have enough confidence in her ability to make us feel with these characters. That would be another way of looking at it. Whether her lack of confidence and lack of trust is in the reader or in her own power as an artist is probably an open question.TranscriptHenry: Today I am talking to Clare Carlisle, a philosopher at King's College London and a biographer. I am a big fan of George Eliot's Double Life: The Marriage Question. I've said the title backwards, but I'm sure you'll find the book either way. Clare, welcome.Clare Carlisle: Hi, Henry. Nice to be here.Henry: Is George Eliot a disappointing feminist?Clare: Obviously disappointment is relative to expectations, isn't it? It depends on what we expect of feminism, and in particular, a 19th-century woman. I personally don't find her a disappointing feminist. Other readers have done, and I can understand why that's the case for all sorts of reasons. She took on a male identity in order to be an artist, be a philosopher in a way that she thought was to her advantage, and she's sometimes been criticized for creating heroines who have quite a conventional sort of fulfillment. Not all of them, but Dorothea in Middlemarch, for example, at the end of the novel, we look back on her life as a wife and a mother with some sort of poignancy.Yes, she's been criticized for, in a way, giving her heroines and therefore offering other women a more conventional feminine ideal than the life she managed to create and carve out for herself as obviously a very remarkable thinker and artist. I also think you can read in the novels a really bracing critique of patriarchy, actually, and a very nuanced exploration of power dynamics between men and women, which isn't simplistic. Eliot is aware that women can oppress men, just as men can oppress women. Particularly in Middlemarch, actually, there's an exploration of marital violence that overcomes the more gendered portrayal of it, perhaps in Eliot's own earlier works where, in a couple of her earlier stories, she portrayed abused wives who were victims of their husband's betrayal, violence, and so on.Whereas in Middlemarch, it's interestingly, the women are as controlling, not necessarily in a nasty way, but just that that's the way human beings navigate their relations with each other. It seems to be part of what she's exploring in Middlemarch. No, I don't find her a disappointing feminist. We should be careful about the kind of expectations we, in the 21st century project onto Eliot.Henry: Was George Henry Lewes too controlling?Clare: I think one of the claims of this book is that there was more darkness in that relationship than has been acknowledged by other biographers, let's put it that way. When I set out to write the book, I'd read two or three other biographies of Eliot by this point. One thing that's really striking is this very wonderfully supportive husbands that, in the form of Lewes, George Eliot has, and a very cheerful account of that relationship and how marvelous he was. A real celebration of this relationship where the husband is, in many ways, putting his wife's career before his own, supporting her.Lewes acted as her agent, as her editor informally. He opened her mail for her. He really put himself at the service of her work in ways that are undoubtedly admirable. Actually, when I embarked on writing this book, I just accepted that narrative myself and was interested in this very positive portrayal of the relationship, found it attractive, as other writers have obviously done. Then, as I wrote the book, I was obviously reading more of the primary sources, the letters Eliot was writing and diary entries. I started to just have a bit of a feeling about this relationship, that it was light and dark, it wasn't just light.The ambiguity there was what really interested me, of, how do you draw the line between a husband or a wife who's protective, even sheltering the spouse from things that might upset them and supportive of their career and helpful in practical ways. How do you draw the line between that and someone who's being controlling? I think there were points where Lewes crossed that line. In a way, what's more interesting is, how do you draw that line. How do partners draw that line together? Not only how would we draw the line as spectators on that relationship, obviously only seeing glimpses of the inner life between the two people, but how do the partners themselves both draw those lines and then navigate them?Yes, I do suggest in the book that Lewes could be controlling and in ways that I think Eliot herself felt ambivalent about. I think she partly enjoyed that feeling of being protected. Actually, there was something about the conventional gendered roles of that, that made her feel more feminine and wifely and submissive, In a way, to some extent, I think she bought into that ideal, but also she felt its difficulties and its tensions. I also think for Lewes, this is a man who is himself conditioned by patriarchal norms with the expectation that the husband should be the successful one, the husband should be the provider, the one who's earning the money.He had to navigate a situation. That was the situation when they first got together. When they first got together, he was more successful writer. He was the man of the world who was supporting Eliot, who was more at the beginning of her career to some extent and helping her make connections. He had that role at the beginning. Then, within a few years, it had shifted and suddenly he had this celebrated best-selling novelist on his hands, which was, even though he supported her success, partly for his own financial interests, it wasn't necessarily what he'd bargained for when he got into the relationship.I think we can also see Lewes navigating the difficulties of that role, of being, to some extent, maybe even disempowered in that relationship and possibly reacting to that vulnerability with some controlling behavior. It's maybe something we also see in the Dorothea-Casaubon relationship where they get together. Not that I think that at all Casaubon was modeled on Lewes, not at all, but something of the dynamic there where they get together and the young woman is in awe of this learned man and she's quite subservient to him and looking up to him and wanting him to help her make her way in the world and teach her things.Then it turns out that his insecurity about his own work starts to come through. He reacts, and the marriage brings out his own insecurity about his work. Then he becomes quite controlling of Dorothea, perhaps again as a reaction to his own sense of vulnerability and insecurity. The point of my interpretation is not to portray Lewes as some villain, but rather to see these dynamics and as I say, ambivalences, ambiguities that play themselves out in couples, between couples.Henry: I came away from the book feeling like it was a great study of talent management in a way, and that the both of them were very lucky to find someone who was so well-matched to their particular sorts of talents. There are very few literary marriages where that is the case, or where that is successfully the case. The other one, the closest parallel I came up with was the Woolfs. Leonard is often said he's too controlling, which I find a very unsympathetic reading of a man who looked after a woman who nearly died. I think he was doing what he felt she required. In a way, I agree, Lewes clearly steps over the line several times. In a way, he was doing what she required to become George Eliot, as it were.Clare: Yes, absolutely.Henry: Which is quite remarkable in a way.Clare: Yes. I don't think Mary Ann Evans would have become George Eliot without that partnership with Lewes. I think that's quite clear. That's not because he did the work, but just that there was something about that, the partnership between them, that enabled that creativity…Henry: He knew all the people and he knew the literary society and all the editors, and therefore he knew how to take her into that world without it overwhelming her, giving her crippling headaches, sending her into a depression.Clare: Yes.Henry: In a way, I came away more impressed with them from the traditional, isn't it angelic and blah, blah, blah.Clare: Oh, that's good.Henry: What did George Eliot learn from Spinoza?Clare: I think she learned an awful lot from Spinoza. She translated Spinoza in the 1850s. She translated Spinoza's Ethics, which is Spinoza's philosophical masterpiece. That's really the last major project that Eliot did before she started to write fiction. It has, I think, quite an important place in her career. It's there at that pivotal point, just before she becomes an artist, as she puts it, as a fiction writer. Because she didn't just read The Ethics, but she translated it, she read it very, very closely, and I think was really quite deeply formed by a particular Spinozist ethical vision.Spinoza thinks that human beings are not self-sufficient. He puts that in very metaphysical terms. A more traditional philosophical view is to say that individual things are substances. I'm a substance, you're a substance. What it means to be a substance is to be self-sufficient, independent. For example, I would be a substance, but my feeling of happiness on this sunny morning would be a more accidental feature of my being.Henry: Sure.Clare: Something that depends on my substance, and then these other features come and go. They're passing, they're just modes of substance, like a passing mood or whatever, or some kind of characteristic I might have. That's the more traditional view, whereas Spinoza said that there's only one substance, and that's God or nature, which is just this infinite totality. We're all modes of that one substance. That means that we don't have ontological independence, self-sufficiency. We're more like a wave on the ocean that's passing through. One ethical consequence of that way of thinking is that we are interconnected.We're all interconnected. We're not substances that then become connected and related to other substances, rather we emerge as beings through this, our place in this wider whole. That interconnectedness of all things and the idea that individuals are really constituted by their relations is, I think, a Spinoza's insight that George Eliot drew on very deeply and dramatized in her fiction. I think it's there all through her fiction, but it becomes quite explicit in Middlemarch where she talks about, she has this master metaphor of the web.Henry: The web. Right.Clare: In Middlemarch, where everything is part of a web. You put pressure on a bit of it and something changes in another part of the web. That interconnectedness can be understood on multiple levels. Biologically, the idea that tissues are formed in this organic holistic way, rather than we're not composed of parts, like machines, but we're these organic holes. There's a biological idea of the web, which she explores. Also, the economic system of exchange that holds a community together. Then I suppose, perhaps most interestingly, the more emotional and moral features of the web, the way one person's life is bound up with and shaped by their encounters with all the other lives that it comes into contact with.In a way, it's a way of thinking that really, it questions any idea of self-sufficiency, but it also questions traditional ideas of what it is to be an individual. You could see a counterpart to this way of thinking in a prominent 19th-century view of history, which sees history as made by heroic men, basically. There's this book by Carlyle, Thomas Carlyle, called The Heroic in History, or something like that.Henry: Sure. On heroes and the heroic, yes.Clare: Yes. That's a really great example of this way of thinking about history as made by heroes. Emerson wrote this book called Representative Men. These books were published, I think, in the early 1850s. Representative Men. Again, he identifies these certain men, these heroic figures, which represent history in a way. Then a final example of this is Auguste Comte's Positivist Calendar, which, he's a humanist, secularist thinker who wants to basically recreate culture and replace our calendar with this lunar calendar, which, anyway, it's a different calendar, has 13 months.Each month is named after a great man. There's Shakespeare, and there's Dante, and there's-- I don't know, I can't remember. Anyway, there's this parade of heroic men. Napoleon. Anyway, that's the view of history that Eliot grew up with. She was reading, she was really influenced by Carlisle and Emerson and Comte. In that landscape, she is creating this alternative Spinozist vision of what an exemplar can be like and who gets to be an exemplar. Dorothea was a really interesting exemplar because she's unhistoric. At the very end of Middlemarch, she describes Dorothea's unhistoric life that comes to rest in an unvisited tomb.She's obscure. She's not visible on the world stage. She's forgotten once she dies. She's obscure. She's ordinary. She's a provincial woman, upper middle-class provincial woman, who makes some bad choices. She has high ideals but ends up living a life that from the outside is not really an extraordinary life at all. Also, she is constituted by her relations with others in both directions. Her own life is really shaped by her milieu, by her relationships with the people. Also, at the end of the novel, Eliot leaves us with a vision of the way Dorothea's life has touched other lives and in ways that can't be calculated, can't really be recognized. Yet, she has these effects that are diffused.She uses this word, diffusion or diffuseness. The diffuseness of the effects of Dorothea's life, which seep into the world. Of course, she's a woman. She's not a great hero in this Carlyle or Emerson sense. In all these ways, I think this is a very different way of thinking about individuality, but also history and the way the world is made, that history and the world is made by, in this more Spinozist kind of way, rather than by these heroic representative men who stand on the world stage. That's not Spinoza's, that's Eliot's original thinking. She's taking a Spinozist ontology, a Spinozist metaphysics, but really she's creating her own vision with that, that's, of course, located in that 19th-century context.Henry: How sympathetic should we be to Mr. Casaubon?Clare: I feel very sympathetic to Mr. Casaubon because he is so vulnerable. He's a really very vulnerable person. Of course, in the novel, we are encouraged to look at it from Dorothea's point of view, and so when we look at it from Dorothea's point of view, Casaubon is a bad thing. The best way to think about it is the view of Dorothea's sister Celia, her younger sister, who is a very clear-eyed observer, who knows that Dorothea is making a terrible mistake in marrying this man. She's quite disdainful of Casaubon's, well, his unattractive looks.He's only about 40, but he's portrayed as this dried-up, pale-faced scholar, academic, who is incapable of genuine emotional connection with another person, which is quite tragic, really. The hints are that he's not able to have a sexual relationship. He's so buttoned up and repressed, in a way. When we look at it from Dorothea's perspective, we say, "No, he's terrible, he's bad for you, he's not going to be good for you," which of course is right. I think Eliot herself had a lot of sympathy for Casaubon. There's an anecdote which said that when someone asked who Casaubon was based on, she pointed to herself.I think she saw something of herself in him. On an emotional level, I think he's just a fascinating character, isn't he, in a way, from an aesthetic point of view? The point is not do we like Casaubon or do we not like him? I think we are encouraged to feel sympathy with him, even as, on the one, it's so clever because we're taken along, we're encouraged to feel as Celia feels, where we dislike him, we don't sympathize with him. Then Eliot is also showing us how that view is quite limited, I think, because we do occasionally see the world from Casaubon's point of view and see how fearful Casaubon is.Henry: She's also explicit and didactic about the need to sympathize with him, right? It's often in asides, but at one point, she gives over most of a chapter to saying, "Poor Mr. Casaubon. He didn't think he'd end up like this." Things have actually gone very badly for him as well.Clare: Yes, that's right. The didactic thing, George Eliot is sometimes criticized for this didacticism because what's most effective in the novel is not the narrator coming and telling us we should actually feel sorry for Casaubon and we should sympathize with him. We'd be better people if we sympathize with Casaubon. There's a moralizing lecture about, you should feel sympathy for this unlikable person. What is more effective is the subtle way she portrays this character and, as I say, lets us into his vulnerabilities in some obvious ways, as you say, by pointing things out, but also in some more subtle ways of drawing his character and hinting at, as I say, his vulnerabilities.Henry: Doesn't she know, though, that a lot of readers won't actually be very moved by the subtle things and that she does need to put in a lecture to say, "I should tell you that I am very personally sympathetic to Mr. Casaubon and that if you leave this novel hating him, that's not--"? Isn't that why she does it? Because she knows that a lot of readers will say, "I don't care. He's a baddie."Clare: Yes I don't know, that's a good question.Henry: I'm interested because, in The Natural History of German Life, she goes to all these efforts to say abstract arguments and philosophy and statistics and such, these things don't change the world. Stories change the world. A picture of life from a great artist. Then when she's doing her picture of life from a great artist she constantly butts in with her philosophical abstractions because it's, she can't quite trust that the reader will get it right as it were.Clare: Yes, I suppose that's one way of looking at it. You could say that or maybe does she have enough confidence in her ability to make us feel with these characters. That would be another way of looking at it. Whether her lack of confidence and lack of trust is in the reader or in her own power as an artist is probably an open question.Henry: There's a good book by Debra Gettelman about the way that novelists like Eliot knew what readers expected because they were all reading so many cheap romance novels and circulating library novels. There are a lot of negations and arguments with the reader to say, "I know what you want this story to do and I know how you want this character to turn out, but I'm not going to do that. You must go with me with what I'm doing.Clare: Yes. You mean this new book that's come out called Imagining Otherwise?Henry: That's right, yes.Clare: I've actually not read it yet, I've ordered it, but funnily enough, as you said at the beginning, I'm a philosopher so I'm not trained at all as a reader of literary texts or as a literary scholar by any means, and so I perhaps foolishly embarked on this book on George Eliot thinking, "Oh, next I'm going to write a book about George Eliot." Anyway, I ended up going to a couple of conferences on George Eliot, which was interestingly like stepping into a different world. The academic world of literary studies is really different from the world of academic philosophy, interestingly.It's run by women for a start. You go to a conference and it's very female-dominated. There's all these very eminent senior women or at least at this conference I went to there was these distinguished women who were running the show. Then there were a few men in that mix, which is the inverse of often what it can be like in a philosophy conference, which is still quite a male-dominated discipline. The etiquette is different. Philosophers like to criticize each other's arguments. That's the way we show love is to criticize and take down another philosopher's argument.Whereas the academics at this George Eliot conference were much more into acknowledging what they'd learned from other people's work and referencing. Anyway, it's really interestingly different. Debra Gettelman was at this conference.Henry: Oh, great.Clare: She had a book on Middlemarch. I think it was 2019 because it was the bicentenary of Eliot's birth, that's why there was this big conference. Debra, who I'd never met before or heard of, as I just didn't really know this world, gave this amazing talk on Middlemarch and on these negations in Middlemarch. It really influenced me, it really inspired me. The way she did these close readings of the sentences, this is what literary scholars are trained to do, but I haven't had that training and the close reading of the sentences, which didn't just yield interesting insights into the way George Eliot uses language but yielded this really interesting philosophical work where Eliot is using forms of the sentence to explore ontological questions about negation and possibility and modality.This was just so fascinating and really, it was a small paper in one of those parallel sessions. It wasn't one of the big presentations at the conference, but it was that talk that most inspired me at the conference. It's a lot of the insights that I got from Debra Gettelman I ended up drawing on in my own chapter on Middlemarch. I situated it a bit more in the history of philosophy and thinking about negation as a theme.Henry: This is where you link it to Hegel.Clare: Yes, to Hegel, exactly. I was so pleased to see that the book is out because I think I must have gone up to her after the talk and said, "Oh, it's really amazing." Was like, "Oh, thank you." I was like, "Is it published? Can I cite it?" She said, "No. I'm working on this project." It seemed like she felt like it was going to be a long time in the making. Then a few weeks ago, I saw a review of the book in the TLS. I thought, "Oh, amazing, the book is out. It just sounds brilliant." I can't wait to read that book. Yes, she talks about Eliot alongside, I think, Dickens and another.Henry: And Jane Austen.Clare: Jane Austen, amazing. Yes. I think it's to do with, as you say, writing in response to readerly expectation and forming readerly expectations. Partly thanks to Debra Gettelman, I can see how Eliot does that. It'd be really interesting to learn how she sees Jane Austen and Dickens also doing that.Henry: It's a brilliant book. You're in for a treat.Clare: Yes, I'm sure it is. That doesn't surprise me at all.Henry: Now, you say more than once in your book, that Eliot anticipates some of the insights of psychotherapy.Clare: Psychoanalysis.Henry: Yes. What do you think she would have made of Freud or of our general therapy culture? I think you're right, but she has very different aims and understandings of these things. What would she make of it now?Clare: It seems that Freud was probably influenced by Eliot. That's a historical question. He certainly read and admired Eliot. I suspect, yes, was influenced by some of her insights, which in turn, she's drawing on other stuff. What do you have in mind? Your question suggests that you think she might have disapproved of therapy culture.Henry: I think novelists in general are quite ambivalent about psychoanalysis and therapy. Yes.Clare: For what reason?Henry: If you read someone like Iris Murdoch, who's quite Eliotic in many ways, she would say, "Do these therapists ever actually help anyone?"Clare: Ah.Henry: A lot of her characters are sent on these slightly dizzying journeys. They're often given advice from therapists or priests or philosophers, and obviously, Murdoch Is a philosopher. The advice from the therapists and the philosophers always ends these characters up in appalling situations. It's art and literature. As you were saying before, a more diffusive understanding and a way of integrating yourself with other things rather than looking back into your head and dwelling on it.Clare: Of course. Yes.Henry: I see more continuity between Eliot and that kind of thinking. I wonder if you felt that the talking cure that you identified at the end of Middlemarch is quite sound common sense and no-nonsense. It's not lie on the couch and tell me how you feel, is it?Clare: I don't know. That's one way to look at it, I suppose. Another way to look at it would be to see Eliot and Freud is located in this broadly Socratic tradition of one, the idea that if you understand yourself better, then that is a route to a certain qualified kind of happiness or fulfillment or liberation. The best kind of human life there could be is one where we gain insight into our own natures. We bring to light what is hidden from us, whether those are desires that are hidden away in the shadows and they're actually motivating our behavior, but we don't realize it, and so we are therefore enslaved to them.That's a very old idea that you find in ancient philosophy. Then the question is, by what methods do we bring these things to light? Is it through Socratic questioning? Is it through art? Eliot's art is an art that I think encourages us to see ourselves in the characters. As we come to understand the characters, and in particular to go back to what I said before about Spinozism, to see their embeddedness and their interconnectedness in these wider webs, but also in a sense of that embeddedness in psychic forces that they're not fully aware of. Part of what you could argue is being exposed there, and this would be a Spinozist insight, is the delusion of free will.The idea that we act freely with these autonomous agents who have access to and control over our desires, and we pick the thing that's in our interest and we act on that. That's a view that I think Spinoza is very critical. He famously denies free will. He says we're determined, we just don't understand how we're determined. When we understand better how we're determined, then perhaps paradoxically we actually do become relatively empowered through our understanding. I think there's something of that in Eliot too, and arguably there's something of that in Freud as well. I know you weren't actually so much asking about Freud's theory and practice, and more about a therapy culture.Henry: All of it.Clare: You're also asking about that. As I say, the difference would be the method for accomplishing this process of a kind of enlightenment. Of course, Freud's techniques medicalizes that project basically. It's the patient and the doctor in dialogue, and depends a lot on the skills of the doctor, doesn't it? How successful, and who is also a human being, who is also another human being, who isn't of course outside of the web, but is themselves in it, and ideally has themselves already undergone this process of making themselves more transparent to their own understanding, but of course, is going to be liable to their own blind spots, and so on.Henry: Which of her novels do you love the most? Just on a personal level, it doesn't have to be which one you think is the most impressive or whatever.Clare: I'm trying to think how to answer that question. I was thinking if I had to reread one of them next week, which one would I choose? If I was going on holiday and I wanted a beach read for pure enjoyment, which of the novels would I pick up? Probably Middlemarch. I think it's probably the most enjoyable, the most fun to read of her novels, basically.Henry: Sure.Clare: There'd be other reasons for picking other books. I really think Daniel Deronda is amazing because of what she's trying to do in that book. Its ambition, it doesn't always succeed in giving us the reading experience that is the most enjoyable. In terms of just the staggering philosophical and artistic achievement, what she's attempting to do, and what she does to a large extent achieve in that book, I think is just incredible. As a friend of Eliot, I have a real love for Daniel Deronda because I just think that what an amazing thing she did in writing that book. Then I've got a soft spot for Silas Marner, which is short and sweet.Henry: I think I'd take The Mill on the Floss. That's my favorite.Clare: Oh, would you?Henry: I love that book.Clare: That also did pop into my mind as another contender. Yes, because it's so personal in a way, The Mill on the Floss. It's personal to her, it's also personal to me in that, it's the first book by Eliot I read because I studied it for A-Level. I remember thinking when we were at the beginning of that two-year period when I'd chosen my English literature A-Level and we got the list of texts we were going to read, I remember seeing The Mill on the Floss and thinking, "Oh God, that sounds so boring." The title, something about the title, it just sounded awful. I remember being a bit disappointed that it wasn't a Jane Austen or something more fun.I thought, "Oh, The Mill on the Floss." Then I don't have a very strong memory of the book, but I remember thinking, actually, it was better than I expected. I did think, actually, it wasn't as awful and boring as I thought it would be. It's a personal book to Eliot. I think that exploring the life of a mind of a young woman who has no access to proper education, very limited access to art and culture, she's stuck in this little village near a provincial town full of narrow-minded conservative people. That's Eliot's experience herself. It was a bit my experience, too, as, again, not that I even would have seen it this way at the time, but a girl with intellectual appetites and not finding those appetites very easily satisfied in, again, a provincial, ordinary family and the world and so on.Henry: What sort of reader were you at school?Clare: What sort of reader?Henry: Were you reading lots of Plato, lots of novels?Clare: No. I'm always really surprised when I meet people who say things like they were reading Kierkegaard and Plato when they were 15 or 16. No, not at all. No, I loved reading, so I just read lots and lots of novels. I loved Jane Eyre. That was probably one of the first proper novels, as with many people, that I remember reading that when I was about 12 and partly feeling quite proud of myself for having read this grown-up book, but also really loving the book. I reread that probably several times before I was 25. Jane Austen and just reading.Then also I used to go to the library, just completely gripped by some boredom and restlessness and finding something to read. I read a lot and scanning the shelves and picking things out. That way I read more contemporary fiction. Just things like, I don't know, Julian Barnes or, Armistead Maupin, or just finding stuff on the shelves of the library that looked interesting, or Anita Brookner or Somerset Maugham. I really love Somerset Maugham.Henry: Which ones do you like?Clare: I remember reading, I think I read The Razor's Edge first.Henry: That's a great book.Clare: Yes, and just knowing nothing about it, just picking it off the shelf and thinking, "Oh, this looks interesting." I've always liked a nice short, small paperback. That would always appeal. Then once I found a book I liked, I'd then obviously read other stuff by that writer. I then read, so The Razor's Edge and-- Oh, I can't remember.Henry: The Moon and Sixpence, maybe?Clare: Yes, The Moon and Sixpence, and-Henry: Painted Veils?Clare: -Human Bondage.Henry: Of Human Bondage, right.Clare: Human Bondage, which is, actually, he took the title from Spinoza's Ethics. That's the title. Cluelessly, as a teenager, I was like, "Ooh, this book is interesting." Actually, when I look back, I can see that those writers, like Maugham, for example, he was really interested in philosophy. He was really interested in art and philosophy, and travel, and culture, and religion, all the things I am actually interested in. I wouldn't have known that that was why I loved the book. I just liked the book and found it gripping. It spoke to me, and I wanted to just read more other stuff like that.I was the first person in my family to go to university, so we didn't have a lot of books in the house. We had one bookcase. There were a few decent things in there along with the Jeffrey Archers in there. I read everything on that bookshelf. I read the Jeffrey Archers, I read the True Crime, I read the In Cold Blood, just this somewhat random-- I think there was probably a couple of George Eliots on there. A few classics, I would, again, grip by boredom on a Sunday afternoon, just stare at this shelf and think, "Oh, is there anything?" Maybe I'll end up with a Thomas Hardy or something. It was quite limited. I didn't really know anything about philosophy. I didn't think of doing philosophy at university, for example. I actually decided to do history.I went to Cambridge to do history. Then, after a couple of weeks, just happened to meet someone who was doing philosophy. I was like, "Oh, that's what I want to do." I only recognized it when I saw it. I hadn't really seen it because I went to the local state school, it wasn't full of teachers who knew about philosophy and stuff like that.Henry: You graduated in theology and philosophy, is that right?Clare: Yes. Cambridge, the degrees are in two parts. I did Part 1, theology, and then I did Part 2, philosophy. I graduated in philosophy, but I studied theology in my first year at Cambridge.Henry: What are your favorite Victorian biographies?Clare: You mean biographies of Victorians?Henry: Of Victorians, by Victorians, whatever.Clare: I don't really read many biographies.Henry: Oh, really?Clare: [laughs] The first biography I wrote was a biography of Kierkegaard. I remember thinking, when I started to write the book, "I'd better read some biographies." I always tend to read fiction. I'm not a big reader of history, which is so ironic. I don't know what possessed me to go and study history at university. These are not books I read for pleasure. I suppose I am quite hedonistic in my choice of reading, I like to read for pleasure.Henry: Sure. Of course.Clare: I don't tend to read nonfiction. Obviously, I do sometimes read nonfiction for pleasure, but it's not the thing I'm most drawn to. Anyway. I remember asking my editor, I probably didn't mention that I didn't know very much about biography, but I did ask him to recommend some. I'd already got the book contract. I said, "What do you think is a really good biography that I should read?" He recommended, I think, who is it who wrote The Life of Gibbon? Really famous biography of Gibbon.Henry: I don't know.Clare: That one. I read it. It is really good. My mind is going blank. I read many biographies of George Eliot before I wrote mine.Henry: They're not all wonderful, are they?Clare: I really liked Catherine Hughes's book because it brought her down from her pedestal.Henry: Exactly. Yes.Clare: Talking about hedonism, I would read anything that Catherine Hughes writes just for enjoyment because she's such a good writer. She's a very intellectual woman, but she's also very entertaining. She writes to entertain, which I like and appreciate as a reader. There's a couple of big archival biographies of George Eliot by Gordon Haight and by Rosemary Ashton, for example, which are both just invaluable. One of the great things about that kind of book is that it frees you to write a different kind of biography that can be more interpretive and more selective. Once those kinds of books have been published, there's no point doing another one. You can do something more creative, potentially, or more partial.I really like Catherine Hughes's. She was good at seeing through Eliot sometimes, and making fun of her, even though it's still a very respectful book. There's also this brilliant book about Eliot by Rosemary Bodenheimer called The Real Life of Mary Ann Evans. It's a biographical book, but it's written through the letters. She sees Eliot's life through her letters. Again, it's really good at seeing through Eliot. What Eliot says is not always what she means. She can be quite defensive and boastful. These are things that really come out in her letters. Anyway, that's a brilliant book, which again, really helped me to read Eliot critically. Not unsympathetically, but critically, because I tend to fall in love with thinkers that I'm reading. I'm not instinctively critical. I want to just show how amazing they are, but of course, you also need to be critical. Those books were--Henry: Or realistic.Clare: Yes, realistic and just like, "This is a human being," and having a sense of humor about it as well. That's what's great about Catherine Hughes's book, is that she's got a really good sense of humor. That makes for a fun reading experience.Henry: Why do you think more philosophers don't write biographies? It's an unphilosophical activity, isn't it?Clare: That's a very interesting question. Just a week or so ago, I was talking to Clare Mac Cumhaill I'm not quite sure how you pronounce her name, but anyway, so there's--Henry: Oh, who did the four women in Oxford?Clare: Yes. Exactly.Henry: That was a great book.Clare: Yes. Clare MacCumhaill co-wrote this book with Rachael Wiseman. They're both philosophers. They wrote this group biography of Iris Murdoch, Elizabeth Anscombe, Philippa Foot, and Mary Midgley. I happened to be having dinner with a group of philosophers and sitting opposite her. Had never met her before. It was just a delight to talk to another philosopher who'd written biography. We both felt that there was a real philosophical potential in biography, that thinking about a shape of a human life, what it is to know another person, the connection between a person's life and their philosophy. Even to put it that way implies that philosophy is something that isn't part of life, that you've got philosophy over here and you've got life over there. Then you think about the connection between them.That, when you think about it, is quite a questionable way of looking at philosophy as if it's somehow separate from life or detachment life. We had a really interesting conversation about this. There's Ray Monk's brilliant biography of Wittgenstein, The Duty of Genius. He's another philosopher who's written biography, and then went on to reflect, interestingly, on the relationship between philosophy and biography.I think on the one hand, I'd want to question the idea that biography and philosophy are two different things or that a person's life and their thought are two separate questions. On the other hand, we've got these two different literary forms. One of them is a narrative form of writing, and one of them- I don't know what the technical term for it would be- but a more systematic writing where with systematic writing, it's not pinned to a location or a time, and the structure of the text is conceptual rather than narrative. It's not ordered according to events and chronology, and things happening, you've just got a more analytic style of writing.Those two styles of writing are very, very different ways of writing. They're two different literary forms. Contemporary academic philosophers tend to write, almost always-- probably are pretty much forced to write in the systematic analytic style because as soon as you would write a narrative, the critique will be, "Well, that's not philosophy. That's history," or "That's biography," or, "That's anecdote." You might get little bits of narrative in some thought experiment, but by definition, the thought experiment is never pinned to a particular time, place, or context. "Let's imagine a man standing on a bridge. There's a fat man tied to the railway line [crosstalk]." Those are like little narratives, but they're not pinned. There is a sequencing, so I suppose they are narratives. Anyway, as you can tell, they're quite abstracted little narratives.That interests me. Why is it that narrative is seen as unphilosophical? Particularly when you think about the history of philosophy, and we think about Plato's dialogues, which tend to have a narrative form, and the philosophical conversation is often situated within a narrative. The Phaedo, for example, at the beginning of the book, Socrates is sitting in prison, and he's about to drink his poisoned hemlock. He's awaiting execution. His friends, students, and disciples are gathered around him. They're talking about death and how Socrates feels about dying. Then, at the end of the book, he dies, and his friends are upset about it.Think about, I know, Descartes' Meditations, where we begin in the philosopher's study, and he's describing--Henry: With the fire.Clare: He's by the fire, but he's also saying, "I've reached a point in my life where I thought, actually, it's time to question some assumptions." He's sitting by the fire, but he's also locating the scene in his own life trajectory. He's reached a certain point in life. Of course, that may be a rhetorical device. Some readers might want to say, "Well, that's mere ornamentation. We extract the arguments from that. That's where the philosophy is." I think it's interesting to think about why philosophers might choose narrative as a form.Spinoza, certainly not in the Ethics, which is about as un-narrative as you can get, but in some of his other, he experimented with an earlier version of the Ethics, which is actually like Descartes' meditation. He begins by saying, "After experience had taught me to question all the values I'd been taught to pursue, I started to wonder whether there was some other genuine good that was eternal," and so on. He then goes on to narrate his experiments with a different kind of life, giving up certain things and pursuing other things.Then you come to George Eliot. I think these are philosophical books.Henry: Yes.Clare: The challenge lies in saying, "Well, how are they philosophical?" Are they philosophical because there are certain ideas in the books that you could pick out and say, "Oh, here, she's critiquing utilitarianism. These are her claims." You can do that with Eliot's books. There are arguments embedded in the books. I wouldn't want to say that that's where their philosophical interest is exhausted by the fact that you can extract non-narrative arguments from them, but rather there's also something philosophical in her exploration of what a human life is like and how choices get made and how those choices, whether they're free or unfree, shape a life, shape other lives. What human happiness can we realistically hope for? What does a good life look like? What does a bad life look like? Why is the virtue of humility important?These are also, I think, philosophical themes that can perhaps only be treated in a long-form, i.e., in a narrative that doesn't just set a particular scene from a person's life, but that follows the trajectory of a life. That was a very long answer to your question.Henry: No, it was a good answer. I like it.Clare: Just to come back to what you said about biography. When I wrote my first biography on Kierkegaard, I really enjoyed working in this medium of narrative for the first time. I like writing. I'd enjoyed writing my earlier books which were in that more analytic conceptual style where the structure was determined by themes and by concepts rather than by any chronology. I happily worked in that way. I had to learn how to do it. I had to learn how to write. How do you write a narrative?To come back to the Metaphysical Animals, the group biography, writing a narrative about one person's life is complicated enough, but writing a narrative of four lives, it's a real-- from a technical point of view-- Even if you only have one life, lives are not linear. If you think about a particular period in your subject's life, people have lots of different things going on at once that have different timeframes. You're going through a certain period in your relationship, you're working on a book, someone close to you dies, you're reading Hegel. All that stuff is going on. The narrative is not going to be, "Well, on Tuesday this happened, and then on Wednesday--" You can't use pure chronology to structure a narrative. It's not just one thing following another.It's not like, "Well, first I'll talk about the relationship," which is an issue that was maybe stretching over a three-month period. Then in this one week, she was reading Hegel and making these notes that were really important. Then, in the background to this is Carlisle's view of history. You've got these different temporal periods that are all bearing on a single narrative. The challenge to create a narrative from all that, that's difficult, as any biographer knows. To do that with four subjects at once is-- Anyway, they did an amazing job in that book.Henry: It never gets boring, that book.Clare: No. I guess the problem with a biography is often you're stuck with this one person through the whole--Henry: I think the problem with a biography of philosophers is that it can get very boring. They kept the interest for four thinkers. I thought that was very impressive, really.Clare: Yes, absolutely. Yes. There's a really nice balance between the philosophy and the-- I like to hear about Philippa Foot's taste in cushions. Maybe some readers would say, "Oh, no, that's frivolous." It's not the view I would take. For me, it's those apparently frivolous details that really help you to connect with a person. They will deliver a sense of the person that nothing else will. There's no substitute for that.In my book about Kierkegaard, it was reviewed by Terry Eagleton in the London Review of Books. It was generally quite a positive review. He was a bit sneering about the fact that it had what he calls "domestic flourishes" in the book. I'd mentioned that Kierkegaard's favorite flower was the lily of the valley. He's like, "Huh." He saw these as frivolities, whereas for me, the fact that Kierkegaard had a favorite flower tells us something about the kind of man he was.Henry: Absolutely.Clare: Actually, his favorite flower had all sorts of symbolism attached to it, Kierkegaard, it had 10 different layers of meaning. It's never straightforward. There's interesting value judgments that get made. There's partly the view that anything biographical is not philosophical. It is in some way frivolous or incidental. That would be perhaps a very austere, purest philosophical on a certain conception of philosophy view.Then you might also have views about what is and isn't interesting, what is and isn't significant. Actually, that's a really interesting question. What is significant about a person's life, and what isn't? Actually, to come back to Eliot, that's a question she is, I think, absolutely preoccupied with, most of all in Middlemarch and in Daniel Deronda. This question about what is trivial and what is significant. Dorothea is frustrated because she feels that her life is trivial. She thinks that Casaubon is preoccupied with really significant questions, the key to all mythologies, and so on.Henry: [chuckles]Clare: There's really a deep irony there because that view of what's significant is really challenged in the novel. Casaubon's project comes to seem really futile, petty, and insignificant. In Daniel Deronda, you've got this amazing question where she shows her heroine, Gwendolyn, who's this selfish 20-year-old girl who's pursuing her own self-interest in a pretty narrow way, about flirting and thinking about her own romantic prospects.Henry: Her income.Clare: She's got this inner world, which is the average preoccupation of a silly 20-year-old girl.Henry: Yes. [laughs]Clare: Then Eliot's narrator asks, "Is there a slenderer, more insignificant thread in human history than this consciousness of a girl who's preoccupied with how to make her own life pleasant?" The question she's asking is-- Well, I think she wants to tell us that slender thread of the girl's consciousness is part of the universe, basically. It's integral. It belongs to a great drama of the struggle between good and evil, which is this mythical, cosmic, religious, archetypal drama that gets played out on the scale of the universe, but also, in this silly girl's consciousness.I think she's got to a point where she was very explicitly thematizing that distinction between the significant and the insignificant and playing with that distinction. It comes back to Dorothea's unhistoric life. It's unhistoric, it's insignificant. Yet, by the end of Middlemarch, by the time we get to that description of Dorothea's unhistoric life, this life has become important to us. We care about Dorothea and how her life turned out. It has this grandeur to it that I think Eliot exposes. It's not the grandeur of historic importance, it's some other human grandeur that I think she wants to find in the silly girls as much as in the great men.Henry: I always find remarks like that quite extraordinary. One of the things I want a biography to tell me is, "How did they come to believe these things?" and, "How did they get the work done?" The flowers that he likes, that's part of that, right? It's like Bertrand Russell going off on his bicycle all the time. That's part of how it all happened. I remember Elizabeth Anscombe in the book about the four philosophers, this question of, "How does she do it all when she's got these six children?" There's this wonderful image of her standing in the doorway to her house smoking. The six children are tumbling around everywhere. The whole place is filthy. I think they don't own a Hoover or she doesn't use it. You just get this wonderful sense of, "This is how she gets it done."Clare: That's how you do it.Henry: Yes. The idea that this is some minor domestic trivial; no, this is very important to understanding Elizabeth Anscombe, right?Clare: Yes, of course.Henry: I want all of this.Clare: Yes. One of the things I really like about her is that she unashamedly brings that domesticity into her philosophical work. She'll use examples like, "I go to buy some potatoes from the grocer's." She'll use that example, whereas that's not the thing that-- Oxford dons don't need to buy any potatoes because they have these quasi-monastic lives where they get cooked for and cleaned for. I like the way she chooses those. Of course, she's not a housewife, but she chooses these housewifely examples to illustrate her philosophy.I don't know enough about Anscombe, but I can imagine that that's a deliberate choice. That's a choice she's making. There's so many different examples she could have thought of. She's choosing that example, which is an example, it shows a woman doing philosophy, basically. Of course, men can buy potatoes too, but in that culture, the buying of the potatoes would be the woman's work.Henry: Yes. She wasn't going to run into AJ Ayre at the grocer's.Clare: Probably not, no.Henry: No. Are you religious in any sense?Clare: I think I am in some sense. Yes, "religious," I think it's a really problematic concept. I've written a bit about this concept of religion and what it might mean. I wrote a book on Spinoza called Spinoza's Religion. Part of what I learned through writing the book was that in order to decide whether or not Spinoza was religious, we have to rethink the very concept of religion, or we have to see that that's what Spinoza was doing.I don't know. Some people are straightforwardly religious and I guess could answer that question, say, "Oh yes, I've always been a Christian," or whatever. My answer is a yes and no answer, where I didn't have a religious upbringing, and I don't have a strong religious affiliation. Sorry, I'm being very evasive.Henry: What do you think of the idea that we're about to live through or we are living through a religious revival? More people going to church, more young people interested in it. Do you see that, or do you think that's a blip?Clare: That's probably a question for the social scientists, isn't it? It just totally depends where you are and what community you're--Henry: Your students, you are not seeing students who are suddenly more religious?Clare: Well, no, but my students are students who've chosen to do philosophy. Some of them are religious and some of them are not. It will be too small a sample to be able to diagnose. I can say that my students are much more likely to be questioning. Many of them are questioning their gender, thinking about how to inhabit gender roles differently.That's something I perceive as a change from 20 years ago, just in the way that my students will dress and present themselves. That's a discernible difference. I can remark on that, but I can't remark on whether they're more religious.Just actually just been teaching a course on philosophy of religion at King's. Some students in the course of having discussions would mention that they were Muslim, Christian, or really into contemplative practices and meditation. Some of the students shared those interests. Others would say, "Oh, well, I'm an atheist, so this is--" There's just a range-Henry: A full range.Clare: -of different religious backgrounds and different interests. There's always been that range. I don't know whether there's an increased interest in religion among those students in particular, but I guess, yes, maybe on a national or global level, statistically-- I don't know. You tell me.Henry: What do you think about all these reports that undergraduates today-- "They have no attention span, they can't read a book, everything is TikTok," do you see this or are you just seeing like, "No, my students are fine actually. This is obviously happening somewhere else"?Clare: Again, it's difficult to say because I see them when they're in their classes, I see them in their seminars, I see them in the lectures. I don't know what their attention spans are like in their--Henry: Some of the other people I've interviewed will say things like, "I'll set reading, and they won't do it, even though it's just not very much reading,"-Clare: Oh, I see. Oh, yes.Henry: -or, "They're on the phone in the--" You know what I mean?Clare: Yes.Henry: The whole experience from 10, 20 years ago, these are just different.Clare: I'm also more distracted by my phone than I was 20 years ago. I didn't have a phone 20 years ago.Henry: Sure.Clare: Having a phone and being on the internet is constantly disrupting my reading and my writing. That's something that I think many of us battle with a bit. I'm sure most of us are addicted to our phones. I wouldn't draw a distinction between myself and my students in that respect. I've been really impressed by my students, pleasantly surprised by the fact they've done their reading because it can be difficult to do reading, I think.Henry: You're not one of these people who says, "Oh students today, it's really very different than it was 20 years ago. You can't get them to do anything. The whole thing is--" Some people are apocalyptic about-- Actually, you're saying no, your students are good?Clare: I like my students. Whether they do the reading or not, I'm not going to sit here and complain about them.Henry: No, sure, sure. I think that's good. What are you working on next?Clare: I've just written a book. It came out of a series of lectures I gave on life writing and philosophy, actually. Connected to what we were talking about earlier. Having written the biographies, I started to reflect a bit more on biography and how it may or may not be a philosophical enterprise, and questions about the shape of a life and what one life can transmit to another life. Something about the devotional labor of the biographer when you're living with this person and you're-- It's devotional, but it's also potentially exploitative because often you're using your subjects, of course, without their consent because they're dead. You're presenting their life to public view and you're selling books, so it's devotional and exploitative. I think that's an interesting pairing.Anyway, so I gave these lectures last year in St Andrews and they're going to be published in September.Henry: Great.Clare: I've finished those really.Henry: That's what's coming.Clare: That's what's coming. Then I've just been writing again about Kierkegaard, actually. I haven't really worked on Kierkegaard for quite a few years. As often happens with these things, I got invited to speak on Kierkegaard and death at a conference in New York in November. My initial thought was like, "Oh, I wish it was Spinoza, I don't want to--" I think I got to the point where I'd worked a lot on Kierkegaard and wanted to do other things. I was a bit like, "Oh, if only I was doing Spinoza, that would be more up my street." I wanted to go to the conference, so I said yes to this invitation. I was really glad I did because I went back and read what Kierkegaard has written about death, which is very interesting because Kierkegaard's this quintessentially death-fixated philosopher, that's his reputation. It's his reputation, he's really about death. His name means churchyard. He's doomy and gloomy. There's the caricature.Then, to actually look at what he says about death and how he approaches the subject, which I'd forgotten or hadn't even read closely in the first place, those particular texts. That turned out to be really interesting, so I'm writing-- It's not a book or anything, it's just an article.Henry: You're not going to do a George Eliot and produce a novel?Clare: No. I'm not a novelist or a writer of fiction. I don't think I have enough imagination to create characters. What I love about biography is that you get given the characters and you get given the plots. Then, of course, it is a creative task to then turn that into a narrative, as I said before. The kinds of biography I like to write are quite creative, they're not just purely about facts. I think facts can be quite boring. Well, they become interesting in the context of questions about meaning interpretations by themselves. Again, probably why I was right to give up on the history degree. For me, facts are not where my heart is.That amount of creativity I think suits me well, but to create a world as you do when you're a novelist and create characters and plots, and so, that doesn't come naturally to me. I guess I like thinking about philosophical questions through real-life stories. It's one way for philosophy to be connected to real life. Philosophy can also be connected to life through fiction, of course, but it's not my own thing. I like to read other people's fiction. I'm not so bothered about reading other biographies.Henry: No. No, no.[laughter]Clare: I'll write the biographies, and I'll read the fiction.Henry: That's probably the best way. Clare Carlisle, author of The Marriage Question, thank you very much.Clare: Oh, thanks, Henry. It's been very fun to talk to you.Henry: Yes. It was a real pleasure. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.commonreader.co.uk/subscribe

Send us a textThis episode originally recorded as a video 5th April 2024 as a Parton only post. I am happy now to make it publicly available. Welcome to another bonus episode where I react to my recent reading and discussing a Philosophical or literary works from a Christian perspective. Today, we'll be exploring "The Razor's Edge" by Somerset Maugham, a novel that considers questions of faith, meaning, and the pursuit of truth.I critically examine the themes of spiritual awakening, moral dilemmas, and the search for purpose in life, whislt at the same time revealing what I believe are it false flags and it occult influences.Set against the backdrop of post-World War I society, "The Razor's Edge" follows the journey of its protagonist, Larry Darrell, as he embarks on a quest for enlightenment that leads him to distant lands and unexpected encounters.Through the lens of Christian theology and philosophy, we'll analyse the characters' decisions, their struggles with doubt and temptation, and his ultimate attempt to find redemption. Does true freedom and salvation lie with the rejection of societal norms and how does the advise revelled in this modern parable line up against timeless biblical truths and teachings.Join us as I try and unravel the layers of "The Razor's Edge" and uncover the real but dangerous spiritual advise it offers. Whether you're a literature enthusiast, a seeker of truth, or simply curious about the intersection of faith and fiction, this episode promises to be an enlightening journey of discovery, it certainly was for me anyway.Support the showFor an ad-free version of my podcasts plus the opportunity to enjoy hours of exclusive content and two bonus episodes a month whilst also helping keep the Bible Project Daily Podcast free for listeners everywhere support me at;|PatreonSupport me to continue making great content for listeners everywhere.https://thebibleproject.buzzsprout.com

A shot rings out, waking the household. A man stumbles out the front door followed by a dowdy woman with a revolver who shoots him again and again. W. Somerset Maugham, today on The Classic Tales Podcast.   Welcome to The Classic Tales Podcast. Thank you for listening.   If you'd like to ensure the future of The Classic Tales, please visit the website, classictalesaudiobooks.com, and either make a donation, buy an audiobook, or pick up one of our many support options.   And if you can't support us monetarily, leave us a review or share an episode with a friend. It all helps.   Today's story was originally written in 1922, appearing in a collection of stories that came from Maugham's travels in the Malay provinces. The racism in the story can be hard on the modern ear, but reflects the views of the time. Maugham uses racism as a literary device to fuel the tension in the story, to show the prejudices of the British toward the people they are exploiting. It also demonstrates how the native people in the region resent the British. So, if you're feeling a bit uncomfortable, it's by design.   This is one of Maugham's most famous short stories, and the 1940 Bette Davis film is an excellent adaptation.     And now, The Letter, by W. Somerset Maugham.       Follow this link to become a monthly supporter:     Follow this link to subscribe to our YouTube Channel:     Follow this link to subscribe to the Arsène Lupin Podcast:     Follow this link to follow us on Instagram:     Follow this link to follow us on Facebook:       Follow this link to follow us on TikTok:

A shot rings out, waking the household. A man stumbles out the front door followed by a dowdy woman with a revolver who shoots him again and again. W. Somerset Maugham, today on The Classic Tales Podcast.   Welcome to The Classic Tales Podcast. Thank you for listening.   If you'd like to ensure the future of The Classic Tales, please visit the website, classictalesaudiobooks.com, and either make a donation, buy an audiobook, or pick up one of our many support options.   And if you can't support us monetarily, leave us a review or share an episode with a friend. It all helps.   Today's story was originally written in 1922, appearing in a collection of stories that came from Maugham's travels in the Malay provinces. The racism in the story can be hard on the modern ear, but reflects the views of the time. Maugham uses racism as a literary device to fuel the tension in the story, to show the prejudices of the British toward the people they are exploiting. It also demonstrates how the native people in the region resent the British. So, if you're feeling a bit uncomfortable, it's by design.   This is one of Maugham's most famous short stories, and the 1940 Bette Davis film is an excellent adaptation.     And now, The Letter, by W. Somerset Maugham.       Follow this link to become a monthly supporter:     Follow this link to subscribe to our YouTube Channel:     Follow this link to subscribe to the Arsène Lupin Podcast:     Follow this link to follow us on Instagram:     Follow this link to follow us on Facebook:       Follow this link to follow us on TikTok:

Russia's latest covert warfare escalations take center stage in this week's Espresso Martini. Chris and Matt unpack the emergence of the GRU's Department of Special Tasks, a new clandestine unit coordinating assassinations, sabotage, and hybrid warfare operations against the West. They also break down an alarming report on a Russia-linked Telegram network inciting terrorism and hate crimes in the UK—just another front in Moscow's war of destabilization. Plus, listener questions on the dilemmas of counterterrorism, the future of Five Eyes under Trump, and top spy books, both fiction and non-fiction. Subscribe and share to stay ahead in the world of intelligence, geopolitics, and current affairs. Watch on YouTube: https://youtu.be/O_uErvzy13o Articles discussed in today's episode "A New Spy Unit Is Leading Russia's Shadow War Against the West" by Bojan Pancevski | The Wall Street Journal: https://www.wsj.com/world/europe/russia-spy-covert-attacks-8199e376 "A Russia-linked Telegram network is inciting terrorism and is behind hate crimes in the UK" by Gregory Davis | Hope Not Hate: https://hopenothate.org.uk/2025/02/10/exclusive-a-russia-linked-telegram-network-is-inciting-terrorism-and-is-behind-hate-crimes-in-the-uk/ Recommended Spy Reads In this episode, we share some of our favorite spy books—both fiction and non-fiction. Whether you're looking for deep dives into real-world espionage or classic spy thrillers, these picks have you covered. Chris's Picks: A mix of gripping true stories and classic spy fiction, covering Cold War betrayals, intelligence tradecraft, and covert operations. Fiction: Agents of Innocence (David Ignatius), Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (John le Carré), Ashenden (W. Somerset Maugham), The Deceiver (Frederick Forsyth), Damascus Station (David McCloskey) Non-Fiction: Next Stop Execution (Oleg Gordievsky), The Art of Intelligence (Henry Crumpton), The Black Banners (Ali Soufan), The Good Spy (Kai Bird), Spy Master (Helen Fry) Matt's Picks: Essential reads on espionage, covert ops, and spycraft—plus some of the genre's best novels. Fiction: The Cardinal of the Kremlin (Tom Clancy), The Sum of All Fears (Tom Clancy), Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (John le Carré), The Honourable Schoolboy (John le Carré), Smiley's People (John le Carré), The Quiet American (Graham Greene) Non-Fiction: Spycraft (H. Keith Melton), Rise and Kill First (Ronen Bergman), Relentless Strike (Sean Naylor), Killer Elite (Michael Smith), The Targeter (Nada Bakos), Dead Drop (Jeremy Duns), The US Intelligence Community (Jeffrey Richelson) Support Secrets and Spies Become a “Friend of the Podcast” on Patreon for £3/$4: www.patreon.com/SecretsAndSpies Buy merchandise from our Redbubble shop: https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/60934996 Subscribe to our YouTube page: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCDVB23lrHr3KFeXq4VU36dg For more information about the podcast, check out our website: https://secretsandspiespodcast.com Connect with us on social media Blue Sky: https://bsky.app/profile/secretsandspies.bsky.social Instagram: https://instagram.com/secretsandspies Facebook: https://facebook.com/secretsandspies Spoutible: https://spoutible.com/SecretsAndSpies Follow Chris and Matt on Blue Sky: https://bsky.app/profile/fultonmatt.bsky.social https://bsky.app/profile/chriscarrfilm.bsky.social Secrets and Spies is produced by Films & Podcasts LTD. Music by Andrew R. Bird Secrets and Spies takes you deep inside the world of espionage, terrorism, and international intrigue. Each episode unpacks global events through the lens of intelligence and geopolitics, featuring expert insights from former spies, authors, and analysts.

Throughout the first World War, acclaimed novelist W. Somerset Maugham worked for British Intelligence in Switzerland. Under cover as a writer, Maugham used his knowledge of travel, languages and culture to great effect, infiltrating high society and common folk alike in his job of greasing the wheels of espionage. A decade later, Maugham fictionalized his experiences in this book, a pseudo-autobiographical account of his time on the continent. Brimming with intrigue and colourful supporting characters, the linked stories of "Ashenden" are skillfully controlled narrative glimpses of war-time spycraft by a figure who's been there and done it. Fast Facts @ 2:00; Summaries @ 28:00; PIPES @ 1:35:00

Two classic stories by the English writer William Somerset Maugham: A Friend in Need, The Wash Tub

Daily QuoteIt's better to light a candle than to curse the darkness. (Eleanor Roosevelt)Poem of the Day静女Beauty of WordsJane Austen and Pride and PrejudiceSomerset Maugham

Joined by two famed artistic leaders, podcast hosts Sarah Crompton and Alex Wood discuss the RSC's exciting plans for the coming year - including a new stage version of The BFG, the transfer of Broadway hit Fat Ham, a football-focussed Much Ado About Nothing, Somerset Maugham's The Constant Wife (boldly reimagined by Laura Wade) and a deluge of tantalising productions. Oh, and, a large amount of chat about Chiltern Railways. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

It's 1921 in Panang Malaysia where the novel “The House of Doors” introduces real events and people, like the writer Somerset Maugham, along with fictional characters. The sunset of British Empire is the backdrop for this tale about the complicated nature of love and friendship.

On Thursday the 7th of October, 2010, the Hermetic Hour, hosted by Poke Runyon, will present a lively review of magical fiction and films. We will go from "The Saragossa Manuscript"(1841) through Dion Fortune's "Moon Magic", Somerset Maugham's "The Magician" (novel and film), Chambers "The King in Yellow", Lovecraft's dream cycle, Merritt's lost worlds (that influenced Shaver), Jack Williamson's "Darker than You Think" (Jack Parson's favorite), Clark Ashton Smith dream-maker extraordinary, his imitator Jack Vance (from which we got Dungeons & Dragons), "Valis" by Philip K. Dick -- just to name a few. Then the films: Orson Welles' "Black Magic" on Cagliostro, Jean Cocteau's "Orpheus", Merrian Cooper's "She", "Simon King of the Witches," "What Dreams May Come," "Crowley," and Jodorowsky's "The Holy Mountain." A smorgasbord of mind-benders. Tune in and feast on it!  

fWotD Episode 2777: Len Deighton Welcome to Featured Wiki of the Day, your daily dose of knowledge from Wikipedia’s finest articles.The featured article for Wednesday, 11 December 2024 is Len Deighton.Leonard Cyril Deighton (; born 18 February 1929) is a British author. His publications have included cookery books and works on history, but he is best known for his spy novels.After completing his national service in the Royal Air Force, Deighton attended the Saint Martin's School of Art and the Royal College of Art in London; he graduated from the latter in 1955. He had several jobs before becoming a book and magazine illustrator and designed the cover for the first UK edition of Jack Kerouac's 1957 work On the Road. He also worked for a period in an advertising agency. During an extended holiday in France he wrote his first novel, The IPCRESS File, which was published in 1962 and was a critical and commercial success. He wrote several spy novels featuring the same central character, an unnamed working-class intelligence officer, cynical and tough. Between 1962 and 1966 Deighton was the food correspondent for The Observer and drew cookstrips—black and white graphic recipes with a limited number of words. A selection of these was collected and published in 1965 as Len Deighton's Action Cook Book, the first of five cookery books he wrote. Other topics of non-fiction include military history.Many of Deighton's books have been best sellers and he has been favourably compared both with his contemporary John le Carré and his literary antecedents W. Somerset Maugham, Eric Ambler, Ian Fleming and Graham Greene. Deighton's fictional work is marked by a complex narrative structure, extensive research and an air of verisimilitude.Several of Deighton's works have been adapted for film and radio. Films include The Ipcress File (1965), Funeral in Berlin (1966), Billion Dollar Brain (1967) and Spy Story (1976). In 1988 Granada Television produced the miniseries Game, Set and Match based on his trilogy of the same name, and in 1995 BBC Radio 4 broadcast a real time dramatisation of his 1970 novel Bomber.This recording reflects the Wikipedia text as of 00:58 UTC on Wednesday, 11 December 2024.For the full current version of the article, see Len Deighton on Wikipedia.This podcast uses content from Wikipedia under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.Visit our archives at wikioftheday.com and subscribe to stay updated on new episodes.Follow us on Mastodon at @wikioftheday@masto.ai.Also check out Curmudgeon's Corner, a current events podcast.Until next time, I'm standard Brian.

Daily QuoteThose who make the worst use of their time are the first to complain of its brevity. (Jean de La Bruyère)Poem of the DayA Word to HusbandsOgden NashBeauty of WordsThe Philosopher (2)By W. Somerset Maugham

Merriam-Webster's Word of the Day for December 4, 2024 is: hoity-toity • hoy-tee-TOY-tee • adjective Someone or something described as hoity-toity may also be called snooty or pretentious; hoity-toity people appear to think that they are better, smarter, or more important than other people, and hoity-toity places and things seem to be made for those same people. An informal word, hoity-toity is a synonym of pompous, fancy, and highfalutin. // The guidance counselor emphasized that students do not need to go to a hoity-toity college to achieve success.    See the entry > Examples: "Most Summer Olympics show beach volleyball on a beach. This year's spikers will play in front of the Eiffel Tower because they can. And just in case equestrian events aren't hoity-toity enough, the 2024 dressage and jumping will unfold at the Palace of Versailles." — Jen Chaney, Vulture, 24 May 2024 Did you know? In modern use, hoity-toity is used almost exclusively to describe someone who's got their nose stuck up in the air, or something suited for such a person. But for over a hundred years, hoity-toity was used solely as a noun referring to thoughtless and silly behavior. The noun originated as a rhyming reduplication of the dialectical verb hoit, meaning "to play the fool." Accordingly, as an adjective hoity-toity was originally used to describe someone as thoughtless or silly—as when English writer W. Somerset Maugham wrote in his 1944 novel The Razor's Edge "very hoity-toity of me not to know that royal personage"—but today it is more likely to describe the royal personage, or someone who puts on airs as if they were a royal personage.

Merriam-Webster's Word of the Day for December 4, 2024 is: hoity-toity • hoy-tee-TOY-tee • adjective Someone or something described as hoity-toity may also be called snooty or pretentious; hoity-toity people appear to think that they are better, smarter, or more important than other people, and hoity-toity places and things seem to be made for those same people. An informal word, hoity-toity is a synonym of pompous, fancy, and hifalutin. // The guidance counselor emphasized that students do not need to go to a hoity-toity college to achieve success.    See the entry > Examples: "Most Summer Olympics show beach volleyball on a beach. This year's spikers will play in front of the Eiffel Tower because they can. And just in case equestrian events aren't hoity-toity enough, the 2024 dressage and jumping will unfold at the Palace of Versailles." — Jen Chaney, Vulture, 24 May 2024 Did you know? In modern use, hoity-toity is used almost exclusively to describe someone who's got their nose stuck up in the air, or something suited for such a person. But for over a hundred years, hoity-toity was used solely as a noun referring to thoughtless and silly behavior. The noun originated as a rhyming reduplication of the dialectical verb hoit, meaning "to play the fool." Accordingly, as an adjective hoity-toity was originally used to describe someone as thoughtless or silly—as when English writer W. Somerset Maugham wrote in his 1944 novel The Razor's Edge "very hoity-toity of me not to know that royal personage"—but today it is more likely to describe the royal personage, or someone who puts on airs as if they were a royal personage.

Daily QuoteThey always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself. (Andy Warhol)Poem of the Day蛇冯至Beauty of WordsThe Philosopher (1)By W. Somerset Maugham

By listener request, Jacke presents a conversation with Nigerian-born novelist Chigozie Obioma (The Road to the Country, The Fishermen, An Orchestra of Minorities). Obioma, hailed by the New York Times as "the heir to Chinua Achebe," tells Jacke about his childhood in Nigeria, the moment he knew he wanted to be a storyteller, what he values in literature, and more. Special attention is paid to one of Obioma's favorite books, The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro. [This is an HOL Encore performance. The conversation with Chigozie Obioma originally aired on February 1, 2021.] Additional listening: 552 Writing after Rushdie (with Shilpi Suneja) 557 Somerset Maugham (with Tan Twan Eng) 314 Gabriel García Márquez (with Patricia Engel) The music in this episode is by Gabriel Ruiz-Bernal. Learn more at gabrielruizbernal.com. Help support the show at patreon.com/literature or historyofliterature.com/donate. The History of Literature Podcast is a member of Lit Hub Radio and the Podglomerate Network. Learn more at thepodglomerate.com/historyofliterature. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Secret Agent is a 1936 espionage thriller set during World War I. We did into this little-seen spy movie from Hitch's British era in this week's podcast. Details: A British International Picture released 5/11/1936. Produced by Michael Balcon and Ivor Montagu. Screenplay by Charles Bennett, Alma Reville, Ian Hay and Jesse Lasky Jr., based on a story by W. Somerset Maugham and a play by Campbell Dixon. Starring John Gielgud, Madeleine Carroll, Peter Lorre, and Robert Young. Cinematography by Bernard Knowles. Score by John Greenwood. Ranking: 34 out of 52. Ranking movies is a reductive parlor game. It's also fun. And it's a good way to frame a discussion. We aggregated over 70 ranked lists from critics, fans, and magazines Secret Agent got 1,013 ranking points.

Kate Summerscale is the author of the number one bestselling The Suspicions of Mr Whicher, winner of the Samuel Johnson Prize for Non-Fiction 2008, winner of the Galaxy British Book of the Year Award, a Richard & Judy Book Club pick and adapted into a major ITV drama. Her first book, the bestselling The Queen of Whale Cay, won a Somerset Maugham award and was shortlisted for the Whitbread biography award. Kate Summerscale has also judged various literary competitions including the Booker Prize. On this episode of Little Atoms she talks to Neil Denny about her latest book The Peepshow: The Murders at 10 Rillington Place. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

KATE SUMMERSCALE chats to Paul about her new history THE PEEPSHOW, 10 Rillington Place, misogyny & male violence, the cultural and wider societal impact of a notorious murder.THE PEEPSHOW: London, 1953. Police discover the bodies of three young women hidden in a wall at 10 Rillington Place, a dingy terrace house in Notting Hill. On searching the building, they find another body beneath the floorboards, then an array of human bones in the garden. But they have already investigated a double murder at 10 Rillington Place, three years ago, and the killer was hanged. Did they get the wrong man?A nationwide manhunt is launched for the tenant of the ground-floor flat, a softly spoken former policeman named Reg Christie. Star reporter Harry Procter chases after the scoop. Celebrated crime writer Fryn Tennyson Jesse begs to be assigned to the case. The story becomes an instant sensation, and with the relentless rise of the tabloid press the public watches on like never before. Who is Christie? Why did he choose to kill women, and to keep their bodies near him? As Harry and Fryn start to learn the full horror of what went on at Rillington Place, they realise that Christie might also have engineered a terrible miscarriage of justice in plain sight.In this riveting true story, Kate Summerscale mines the archives to uncover the lives of Christie's victims, the tabloid frenzy that their deaths inspired, and the truth about what happened inside the house.Kate Summerscale is the author of the number one bestselling The Suspicions of Mr Whicher, winner of the Samuel Johnson Prize for Non-Fiction 2008, winner of the Galaxy British Book of the Year Award, a Richard & Judy Book Club pick and adapted into a major ITV drama. Her first book, the bestselling The Queen of Whale Cay, won a Somerset Maugham award and was shortlisted for the Whitbread biography award. Kate Summerscale has also judged various literary competitions including the Booker Prize. She lives in north London.Recommend: Paul Burke writes for Monocle Magazine, Crime Time, Crime Fiction Lover and the European Literature Network, Punk Noir Magazine (fiction contribution). He is also a CWA Historical Dagger Judge 2024. His first book An Encyclopedia of  Spy Fiction will be out in late 2025.Produced by Junkyard DogCrime TimeCrime Time FM is the official podcast ofGwyl Crime Cymru Festival 2023CrimeFest 2023CWA Daggers 2023& Newcastle Noir 20232024 Slaughterfest, National Crime Reading Month, CWA Daggers

‘There's always hope where there's poetry…'   This week, Sally is preparing for her narrowboat, Cerian, to journey upriver for maintenance. Join her in her engine room for a discussion of Somerset Maugham's novel The Painted Veil, meditations on kindness, and reflections on how poetry helps us to create our own rhythms in a noisy world.    More information on The Painted Veil (1925) can be found here.    The poems read from in this episode are ‘Auguries of Innocence' by William Blake, ‘“Hope” is the thing with feathers' by Emily Dickinson, and ‘The Waste Land' by T.S. Eliot.    The original piano music is ‘Doubt' and ‘Sunday' by Paul Sebastian. The original guitar music is by Dylan Gwalia.    This episode was edited and produced by Lucie Richter-Mahr.    Special thanks to Andrew Smith, Violet Henderson, Kris Dyer, and Maeve Magnus. 

Welcome to The Nonlinear Library, where we use Text-to-Speech software to convert the best writing from the Rationalist and EA communities into audio. This is: Excerpts from "A Reader's Manifesto", published by Arjun Panickssery on September 7, 2024 on LessWrong. "A Reader's Manifesto" is a July 2001 Atlantic piece by B.R. Myers that I've returned to many times. He complains about the inaccessible pretension of the highbrow literary fiction of his day. The article is mostly a long list of critiques of various quotes/passages from well-reviewed books by famous authors. It's hard to accuse him of cherry-picking since he only targets passages that reviewers singled out as unusually good. Some of his complaints are dumb but the general idea is useful: authors try to be "literary" by (1) avoiding a tightly-paced plot that could evoke "genre fiction" and (2) trying to shoot for individual standout sentences that reviewers can praise, using a shotgun approach where many of the sentences are banal or just don't make sense. Here are some excerpts of his complaints. Bolding is always mine. The "Writerly" Style He complains that critics now dismiss too much good literature as "genre" fiction. More than half a century ago popular storytellers like Christopher Isherwood and Somerset Maugham were ranked among the finest novelists of their time, and were considered no less literary, in their own way, than Virginia Woolf and James Joyce. Today any accessible, fast-moving story written in unaffected prose is deemed to be "genre fiction" - at best an excellent "read" or a "page turner," but never literature with a capital L. An author with a track record of blockbusters may find the publication of a new work treated like a pop-culture event, but most "genre" novels are lucky to get an inch in the back pages of The New York Times Book Review. The dualism of literary versus genre has all but routed the old trinity of highbrow, middlebrow, and lowbrow, which was always invoked tongue-in-cheek anyway. Writers who would once have been called middlebrow are now assigned, depending solely on their degree of verbal affectation, to either the literary or the genre camp. David Guterson is thus granted Serious Writer status for having buried a murder mystery under sonorous tautologies (Snow Falling on Cedars, 1994), while Stephen King, whose Bag of Bones (1998) is a more intellectual but less pretentious novel, is still considered to be just a very talented genre storyteller. Further, he complains that fiction is regarded as "literary" the more slow-paced, self-conscious, obscure, and "writerly" its style. The "literary" writer need not be an intellectual one. Jeering at status-conscious consumers, bandying about words like "ontological" and "nominalism," chanting Red River hokum as if it were from a lost book of the Old Testament: this is what passes for profundity in novels these days. Even the most obvious triteness is acceptable, provided it comes with a postmodern wink. What is not tolerated is a strong element of action - unless, of course, the idiom is obtrusive enough to keep suspense to a minimum. Conversely, a natural prose style can be pardoned if a novel's pace is slow enough, as was the case with Ha Jin's aptly titled Waiting, which won the National Book Award (1999) and the PEN/Faulkner Award (2000). If the new dispensation were to revive good "Mandarin" writing - to use the term coined by the British critic Cyril Connolly for the prose of writers like Virginia Woolf and James Joyce - then I would be the last to complain. But what we are getting today is a remarkably crude form of affectation: a prose so repetitive, so elementary in its syntax, and so numbing in its overuse of wordplay that it often demands less concentration than the average "genre" novel. 4 Types of Bad Prose Then he has five sections complaining about 4 different types of prose he doesn't like (in addition to the generic "literary" prose): "evocative" prose, "muscular"...

How did Westerners first get involved with Eastern teachers, and is the age of the guru now over? In his latest book, The Nirvana Express, Mick Brown presents a colourful cast of seekers, writers, mystics, tricksters and chancers – he reveals people's flaws without obscuring the sincerity of spiritual quests.Alongside portraits of better-known subjects, from Vivekananda and the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi to Rajneesh, Mick notes the influence of Western occultists, and early interest in Ramana Maharshi – an exemplary sage who inspired The Razor's Edge by Somerset Maugham and A Search in Secret India by Paul Brunton.Our conversation explores the significance of these stories, alongside others from an earlier book, The Spiritual Tourist, which recounts Mick's engagement with mystical teachers. In his day job, he works as a journalist – reporting in detail on guru abuses – so we talk about the value of critical thinking, while considering the merits of genuine teachers, who can only awaken what's found in oneself.

Daily Quote山光忽西落，池月渐东上。（孟浩然）Poem of the DayYouth Calls to AgeDylan ThomasBeauty of WordsGerman Harry (2)by W. Somerset Maugham

Daily QuoteYour biggest failure is the thing you dreamed of contributing but didn't find the guts to do. (Seth Godin)Poem of the Day山行戴望舒Beauty of WordsGerman Harry (1)by W. Somerset Maugham

Welcome back to The Literary Life podcast and our series on J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter: Book 1. After sharing some thoughts on detective fiction as it relates to Rowling, our hosts Angelina Stanford and Thomas Banks discuss chapters 8-12. Some of the ideas they share are the following: Homeric echos and classical allusions in this book, the identity quest, the significance of characters' names, the four houses and the bestiary, the three parts of the soul, the Christian influence on Rowling's stories. Angelina also seeks to teach something about symbolism and structure of literature and art as seen through the Harry Potter books. Visit HouseofHumaneLetters.com for updates on classes with Angelina, Thomas, and other members of their teaching team. Previous episodes mentioned in this podcast: The Importance of the Detective Novel (Episode 3/174) Series on Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers (Episodes 4-8) Death on the Nile by Agatha Christie (Episode 79) Commonplace Quotes: The wise man combines the pleasures of the senses and the pleasures of the spirit in such a way as to increase the satisfaction he gets from both. W. Somerset Maugham, from The Narrow Corner For it is through symbols that man finds his way out of his particular situation and “opens himself” to the general and the Universal. Symbols awaken individual experience and transmute it into a spiritual act, into metaphysical comprehension of the world. Mircea Eliade, from The Sacred and the Profane The Fairies By William Allingham Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen,We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men;Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together;Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather!Down along the rocky shore Some make their home,They live on crispy pancakes Of yellow tide-foam;Some in the reeds Of the black mountain lake,With frogs for their watch-dogs, All night awake.High on the hill-top The old King sits;He is now so old and gray He's nigh lost his wits.With a bridge of white mist Columbkill he crosses,On his stately journeys From Slieveleague to Rosses;Or going up with music On cold starry nightsTo sup with the Queen Of the gay Northern Lights.They stole little Bridget For seven years long;When she came down again Her friends were all gone.They took her lightly back, Between the night and morrow,They thought that she was fast asleep, But she was dead with sorrow.They have kept her ever since Deep within the lake,On a bed of flag-leaves, Watching till she wake.By the craggy hill-side, Through the mosses bare,They have planted thorn-trees For pleasure here and there.If any man so daring As dig them up in spite,He shall find their sharpest thorns In his bed at night.Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen,We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men;Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together;Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather! Book List: Cormoran Strike Series by Robert Galbraith Murder Must Advertise by Dorothy L. Sayers The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco Agatha Christie Margery Allingham Ngaio Marsh Fanny Burney Northrop Frye The Odyssey by Homer Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by J. K. Rowling The Book of Beasts trans. by T. H. White The Once and Future King by T. H. White Fabulous Tales and Mythical Beasts by Woody Allen Support The Literary Life: Become a patron of The Literary Life podcast as part of the “Friends and Fellows Community” on Patreon, and get some amazing bonus content! Thanks for your support! Connect with Us: You can find Angelina and Thomas at HouseofHumaneLetters.com, on Instagram @angelinastanford, and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ANGStanford/ Follow The Literary Life on Instagram, and jump into our private Facebook group, The Literary Life Discussion Group, and let's get the book talk going! http://bit.ly/literarylifeFB

Cada día un pequeño apunte de Alberto Mayol por YouTube en http://apuntes.cl

This special rerelease episode of the Wisdom Podcast features Jeffrey Hopkins. Jeffrey started meditating while at Harvard and then, inspired by Thoreau and W. Somerset Maugham, spent time in a cabin in the woods in Vermont. He was Professor Emeritus of Tibetan Buddhist Studies at the University of Virginia, where he taught Tibetan Studies and […] The post Jeffrey Hopkins: In Remembrance: The Life of a Buddhist Scholar (#190) appeared first on The Wisdom Experience.

For this episode of the Times Higher Education podcast, we talk to award-winning author, cultural historian and literary critic Alexandra Harris about the research and writing practices behind her new book, The Rising Down: Lives in a Sussex Landscape (Faber, 2024). Alexandra is a professorial fellow in English at the University of Birmingham in the UK. Her books include Romantic Moderns: English Writers, Artists & the Imagination from Virginia Woolf to John Piper, which won The Guardian First Book award and a Somerset Maugham award, and Weatherland, which was adapted into a 10-part radio series for the BBC. This conversation explores what a literary scholar can bring to the study of local history, the power of place, and how “trespassing” researchers can find new insights in familiar records of everyday and celebrated lives.

On this week's episode of The Literary Life Podcast, Angelina and Thomas continue their series of discussions on Anne Brontë's novel Agnes Grey. They open the conversation about this novel with some thoughts on the differences between Agnes Grey and Jane Eyre and Anne and Charlotte Brontë. Angelina poses the question as to whether this novel crosses the line into didacticism or if it stays within the purpose of the story and the art. In discussing the education of Agnes' charges in these chapters, Angelina has a chance to expand upon the upbringing of Victorian young women. She and Thomas discuss the position of the curate and Agnes' spiritual seriousness, as well as the characters of Weston and Hatfield as foils for each other. Thomas closes out the conversation with a question as to whether Agnes Grey is as memorable a character as Jane Eyre or Catherine Earnshaw and why that is. Check out the schedule for the podcast's summer episodes on our Upcoming Events page. In July, Dr. Jason Baxter will be teaching a class titled “Dostoyevsky's Icon: Brothers Karamazov, The Christian Past, and The Modern World”, and you can sign up for that or any of the HHL Summer Classes here. Sign up for the newsletter at HouseofHumaneLetters.com to stay in the know about all the exciting new things we have coming up! Commonplace Quotes: In wit, as nature, what affects our hearts/ Is not the exactness of peculiar parts;/ ‘Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call,/ But the joint force and full result of all. Alexander Pope, from “An Essay on Criticism” In any case, it is Charlotte Brontë who enters Victorian literature. The shortest way of stating her strong contribution is, I think, this: that she reached the highest romance through the lowest realism. She did not set out with Amadis of Gaul in a forest or with Mr. Pickwick in a comic club. She set out with herself, with her own dingy clothes and accidental ugliness, and flat, coarse, provincial household; and forcibly fused all such muddy materials into a spirited fairy-tale. G. K. Chesterton, The Victorian Age in Literature My Heart Leaps Up By William Wordsworth My heart leaps up when I beholdA Rainbow in the sky:So was it when my life began;So is it now I am a man;So be it when I shall grow old,Or let me die!The Child is father of the man;And I wish my days to beBound each to each by natural piety. Book List: Ten Novels and Their Authors by W. Somerset Maugham 1984 by George Orwell The Jungle by Upton Sinclair Charlotte Mason Hugh Walpole George Eliot Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë Support The Literary Life: Become a patron of The Literary Life podcast as part of the “Friends and Fellows Community” on Patreon, and get some amazing bonus content! Thanks for your support! Connect with Us: You can find Angelina and Thomas at HouseofHumaneLetters.com, on Instagram @angelinastanford, and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ANGStanford/ Follow The Literary Life on Instagram, and jump into our private Facebook group, The Literary Life Discussion Group, and let's get the book talk going! http://bit.ly/literarylifeFB

In 1944's Christmas Holiday, Deanna Durbin and Gene Kelly, both known for their achievements in musical comedies, were cast against type as a lounge singer with a sordid past and her abusive husband respectively.  Audiences seemed to be ready for the change as Christmas Holiday, directed by stylist Robert Siodmak and based on a W. Somerset Maugham story, quickly became one of Universal's most successful films of 1944.   Dan and Vicky discuss the offbeat and melancholy Christmas movie along with their feelings on some recently seen movies and TV including The First Omen, Monkey Man, Zone of Interest, Beau is Afraid and Netflix's Dick Wolf docu-series Homicide New York. Check us out on all our socials:  hotdatepod.com FB:  Hot Date Podcast Twitter: @HotDate726 Insta:  hotdatepod  

This week's Fox 1946 Studios Year by Year episode features the strange bedfellows of Henry Hathaway's The Dark Corner, a curiously feminist film noir in which the tormented protagonist is saved by the persistence of a good woman (played by Lucille Ball), and Edmund Goulding's The Razor's Edge, based on a Somerset Maugham novel about spiritual enlightenment and bourgeois ennui, featuring Gene Tierney's best performance, although Anne Baxter won the Oscar. And in Fear and Moviegoing in Toronto, the TIFF Cinematheque Duras retrospective continues with Nathalie Granger, Baxter, Vera Baxter, Le Navire Night, and Les Enfants. We discuss comedy, mysticism, nihilism, recalcitrant children, and happy endings in Duras's films. Time Codes: 0h 00m 35s:      THE DARK CORNER [dir. Henry Hathaway] 0h 25m 04s:      THE RAZOR'S EDGE [dir. Edmund Goulding] 0h 52m 22s:      Fear and Moviegoing in Toronto: Nathalie Granger (1972), Baxter, Vera Baxter (1977), Le Navire Night (1979) and Les Enfants (1984) – all by Marguerite Duras Studio Film Capsules provided by The Films of 20th Century-Fox by Aubrey Solomon & Tony Thomas Additional studio information from: The Hollywood Story by Joe W. Finler                                 +++ * Marvel at our meticulously ridiculous Complete Viewing Schedule for the 2020s * Intro Song: “Sunday” by Jean Goldkette Orchestra with the Keller Sisters (courtesy of The Internet Archive) * Read Elise's latest film piece on Preston Sturges, Unfaithfully Yours, and the Narrative role of comedic scapegoating. * Check out Dave's new Robert Benchley blog – an attempt to annotate and reflect upon as many of the master humorist's 2000+ pieces as he can locate – Benchley Data: A Wayward Annotation Project!  Follow us on Twitter at @therebuggy Write to us at therebuggy@gmail.com   We now have a Discord server - just drop us a line if you'd like to join!           

John J. Miller is joined by Mick Brown of The Telegraph to discuss W. Somerset Maugham's 'The Razor's Edge.'

Watch the episode on YouTube -- https://youtu.be/xNaqmeugIzc How do you find the time to read and write? Fiction or nonfiction? How do you come up with ideas for your stories? Do English language exam preparation courses really teach writing? English teacher, writer, and editor (of the International House Journal) Chris Walker joins me in one of the most insightful conversations about writing I've ever had. Enjoy! Links Get Chris' books -- https://www.amazon.co.uk/stores/Christopher-Walker/author/B01N80YT77 The blog post I mentioned -- https://fabiocerpelloni.com/read-like-a-writer/ The blog post I read out -- https://fabiocerpelloni.com/exams/ Any Language You Want (my book) -- https://fabiocerpelloni.com/any-language-you-want/ My group for non-native English writers (opening soon) -- https://fabiocerpelloni.com/rga/ Other books we mentioned: The Penguin History of The Second World War 2666 by Roberto Bolano The Pillars of Hercules by Paul Theroux Someday Is Today by Matthew Dicks The Secret Lives of Somerset Maugham by Selina Hastings Earthly Powers by Anthony Burgess Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace The English Verb by Michael Lewis 100 Ways to Improve Your Writing by Gary Provost Chapters 00:00 Intro 02:00 Why Writing 06:11 Fiction vs Nonfiction (Pt.1) 09:56 Finding Writing Ideas 16:07 Chris' Writing Approach 25:29 Reviews & Amazon 30:42 Finding the Time to Write 39:23 Being an Editor 42.52 Fiction vs Nonfiction (Pt.2) 50:54 Useful Writing Strategies 54:30 English Is a Simple Language 59:32 English Exams vs Writing 01:09:12 Tips for Non-Native English Writers 01:15:24 Bye Bye *** Visit my website: https://fabiocerpelloni.com/

Justin Hill has skilfully crafted bestselling stories that traverse a diverse range of settings, from the captivating landscapes of China to the tumultuous epochs of the Early Middle Ages, to the nightmare, war-torn future of the universe of Warhammer 40k.  He is the recipient of several prestigious literary accolades, including the Somerset Maugham, Betty Trask, and Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prizes, and his works have earned acclaim from publications such as the Sunday Times, Washington Post, and The Times, where his books have been celebrated as notable additions to their annual lists. Welcome to RPS, Justin Hill! Useful links: https://www.justinhillauthor.com/ We're on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RockPaperSwordsPodcast and X @rock_swords SUPPORT us on Patreon!

From the notes of Kris Saknussemm... Temporary tattoos and the latest Oscar's night—two more examples of why we've entered the Post-Civilization Age. People who say the Oscar's have been in “decline” for quite a while are the kind of folks who wouldn't draw much distinction between Ted Bundy returning to have sex with a corpse three days after the murder, or three weeks. I maintain there's a difference. Moving along, it's struck me of late that there's a relationship between Education (public school system) and Tourism, which often goes unnoticed. We know there's a connection between Education and Travel. Travel is how humanity has educated itself about the human globe (and all this means), the planet Earth, and the larger world / universe we've been able to comprehend. All good. Tourism? Hmm, not so good. Why? What is the difference between Travel and Tourism? Many interesting people have tried to speak to this issue, including well-traveled writers such as Mark Twain, D.H. Lawrence, Somerset Maugham, Tennessee Williams, and Jack Kerouac—hell, the list goes on and on. What a great list. But it doesn't go that far back in time…because “tourism” in anything like the sense we mean it today really only fired up after WWII. Up to then, “travel” frequently meant adventure—both intentional and inadvertent. Calamity. Discovery. Decadence. Plunder. Escape. To be sure, the English fascination for a Tour of the Continent (Europe) was fashionable curriculum for the upper classes. But generally, Travel was a more eccentric endeavor. Hoity-toity or rough and ready. It was selective. A curious club. I've recently had my students read Walker Percy's wonderful essay “The Loss of the Creature.” It has a lot to say about reclaiming personal experience and sovereignty—and not sacrificing validation to a shadowy priest caste of so-called experts. It deals directly in the connection between Education and Travel or Tourism? So, taking my view that Tourism arises as an industry (and as a system of social values) post-WWII…isn't this about when the commitment to a fully national public school system takes off? I think before then, any sort of structured public education program was very porous and unevenly distributed even within states. More an idea than a system or a network. Is there a connection? What can the difference between Travel and Tourism possibly tell us about how the public education experiment is faring? Kris's music piece at the end is titled "Recurring Dreams."

Adapted from a story written by W.Somerset Maugham wrtten in 1931 and appearing in Hearst's International Cosmopolitan. The story was adapted to radio for "Escape" in a play entitled "The Vessel of Wrath." Introductory audio tells more about the Escape series and introduces the episode you will hear. This will be living in the Playlist: Drama and Mystery.

Two pieces by the English author and playwright, W. Somerset Maugham: The Portrait of a Gentleman and The Ant and the Grasshopper

William Somerset Maugham, geboren am 25.01.1874 in Paris, führt ein vielschichtiges Leben. Sein Roman "Des Menschen Hörigkeit" macht ihn weltberühmt. Von Melahat Simsek.

The new novel by Tan Twan Eng, The House of Doors, is a project of historical fiction immersed in the culturally rich island of Penang in the 1920s. A once revered, now flailing British writer arrives to visit a friend and find inspiration for a new book. What he uncovers – secret affairs, a murder trial, and deeply complicated relationships – proves to be more than he expected. In today's episode, NPR's Ari Shapiro asks the author about using the real writer W. Somerset Maugham as his protagonist, and about what writing from the perspective of the Brits reveals about imperialism.

Summary No guest today in what is my first episode of the new year. I promise no New Year's resolutions except one: to read and digest as many books as I can during the year. Given my interest in books, I was curious to know what some of my colleagues, friends, and family members will read in 2024. So, I contacted more than 40 of them, asking them for a brief bio, their book of choice, and why that title might find its way to their nightstand. I thought that maybe I'd hear from a few, but that many might be too busy to respond, given the fast-approaching holiday. Their responses poured in: Jesse Kohler is the President and Chair of The Change Campaign and also serves as Executive Director of the Campaign for Trauma-Informed Policy and Practice. Going to read Preventing and Healing Climate Traumas: A Guide to Building Resilience and Hope in Communities by Bob Doppelt. Because the climate crisis is widely traumatizing. Promoting support across our society to work through it together is one of the most critical callings of our time. Paul McNicholls is a lay historian and author. Going to read Victory to Defeat: The British Army 1918–40 by Richard Dannatt and Robert Lyman. Because what happened to the British Army between the First and Second World Wars explains why they were summarily defeated by the Germans and had to be evacuated from the beaches at Dunkirk in 1940. Frank Zaccari is a best-selling author and CEO of Life Altering Events, LLC. Going to read The Passion Test by Janet and Chris Attwood. Because over my long time on the planet, my passion – or what I thought was my passion – has changed many times. Now, in my semi-retirement, this book will help me focus on finding my next passion where I can make a difference. Neil C. Hughes is a freelance technology journalist, podcast host and engineer, and the producer of "Tech Talks Daily" and "Tech Fusion" by Citrix Ready.  Going to read Freedom to Think: Protecting a Fundamental Human Right in the Digital Age by Susie Alegr. Because this title will deepen my understanding of the intersection between technology, privacy, and human rights in the digital age. Melissa Hughes, Ph.D. is a neuroscience researcher, speaker, and author of Happy Hour with Einstein and Happier Hour with Einstein: Another Round.  Going to read Misbelief by Dan Ariely. Because the human brain is so incredible and so incredibly flawed (and because I read everything that Dan Ariely writes!) And Hidden Potential: The Science of Achieving Greater Things by Adam Grant. Because we all have hidden potential begging to be discovered.   Valerie Gordon is a former Emmy-winning television producer who brings the Art of Storytelling for Impact and Influence to audiences and corporate leaders.  Going to read Hidden Potential: The Science of Achieving Greater Things by Adam Grant. Because I found his previous works to be insightful and helpful in my business as well as in meeting my own goals. I recommend it to anyone interested in the human mind and its impact on realizing our potential. Rich Gassen is a print production manager at UW-Madison and also leads a community of practice for supervisors where we explore topics on leadership and staff development. Going to read Hidden Potential: The Science of Achieving Greater Things by Adam Grant. Because I have always sought to improve myself and those around me to achieve more through better processes, incorporating efficiencies, and harnessing strengths. I feel that this book will bring me to another level in being able to do that. Sarah Elkins is a StrengthFinder coach and story consultant, keynote speaker, podcast host, and the author of Your Stories Don't Define You, How You Tell Them Will. Going to read Black Cake by Charmaine Wilkerson. Because I've become especially sensitive to representation over the past few years, and I talk about wanting to support all people. Reading a book by a person of color and understanding her back story is one way to help me do that. Diane Wyzga is a global podcaster, a story expert who helps clients clarify ideas and amplify messaging, and a hiker – who walks the talk. Going to read The Perfection Trap - Embracing the Power of Good Enough by Thomas Curran. Because as I've become aware of our culture's dangerous obsession with perfection, I want to learn to step away from my own focus on it. Bill Whiteside is a retired software salesman who is now writing a book about Winston Churchill and a little-known event from World War II. Going to read Larry McMurtry: A Life by Tracy Daugherty. Because after spending the past five years researching my book with my nose in books about Britain and France in 1940, it's going to be refreshing to read just for fun once again. McMurtry's personality and career as a bookstore owner and a highly regarded author – “Lonesome Dove," “The Last Picture Show” and “Terms of Endearment” – fascinate me. Mark Reid is a maker of traditional handmade Japanese paper and host of the Zen Sammich podcast. Going to read The Moon and Sixpence by W. Somerset Maugham. Because the main character's internal moral challenges and the battle with societal expectations are compelling for me to read about and contemplate. Mark O'Brien is the founder and principal of O'Brien Communications Group, a B2B brand-management and marketing-communications firm, and host of The Anxious Voyage, a syndicated radio show about life's trials and triumphs. Going to read Lyrical and Critical Essays by Albert Camus. Because as a longtime fan of Camus' existential work, I look forward to stretching my thick Irish noggin to let in a tad more light – as I always try to do. Hope Blecher is an educational consultant and the founder of Hope's Compass, www.HopesCompass.org, a non-profit that helps members of the community and visitors to interact with survivors of the Holocaust and children of survivors through arts, music, poetry, prose, and more.  Going to (re)read The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exuperty. Because I experience something new each time I read it. And Art Matters: Because Your Imagination Can Change the World by Neil Gaiman and Chris Riddell. Because I'm curious about what these authors will say that will help me continue on my own pathway of exploring art. Christine Mason is the Cultivating Resilience podcast co-host, educational psychologist researcher, entrepreneur, and yoga instructor/mindfulness coach. Going to read From Beirut to Jerusalem by Thomas L. Friedman. Because Friedman knows the region exceptionally well, this book will provide me with a greater understanding of the underlying regional and religious tensions and conflicts and also prepare me to lead others in a deeper discussion toward a potential resolution and peace. Tammy Hader is a retired accountant, a lifetime Kansan, a storyteller, a caregiver, and an author. (See above.) Going to read Bowling Alone by Robert Putnam. Because our relationships – our social capital – continue to be degraded in the current environment, so I want to study it, defend against it, and learn how to shift myself and my community into improved connections. Cindy House is the author of Mother Noise, a memoir about her recovery from addiction. She is a regular opener for David Sedaris on his book lecture circuit. She is also my memoir instructor. Going to read Art Monster: Unruly Bodies in Feminist Art by Lauren Elkin. Because the book looks at women artists and their work as a reaction against the patriarchy. In these days of watching the GOP war against women, it seems especially important as a woman in the arts to consider how my work can be a protest against extreme political positions.  Susan Rooks – the Grammar Goddess – is an editor/proofreader who helps nonfiction/business content authors of books/blogs/websites and podcasters and their episode transcriptions look and sound as smart as they are. Going to read Outlive: The Science and Art of Longevity by Peter Attia, MD. Because as I age, I'm interested in doing everything I can to stay alive in a healthy manner. Steve Ehrlich is a lifelong educator and has an equally long-standing calling in fly fishing. He combines those two loves in classes on the lessons of fly fishing and its treasured literature for personal and professional growth, renewal and healing, and social change.  Going to read An Immense World: How Animal Senses Reveal the Hidden Realms Around Us by Ed Yong. Because I've always been intrigued by the interconnectedness of things, especially the things we can't fully understand. Such a mystery is at the heart of this book, which is about how animals are connected to one another in so many ways and in a manner that most of us have difficulty comprehending.  Annette Taylor is a rogue researcher of evolutionary psychology. Going to finish We Are Electric by Sally Adee – but doing so scares me... Because it seems like the author is justifying our “merging” with AI or at least romanticizing our ever increasing entanglements with technology. And since I like to simplify life using a cave-dweller perspective, this idea freaks me out. Leon Ikler is a commercial photographer primarily shooting tabletop and small room scenes in the studio along with a mix of location work. Going to read Democracy Awakening by Heather Cox Richardson. Because in these contentious times with the nation so divided, I like how she frames today's issues against what has taken place in the past. I feel it is essential to know our history so we can try to avoid making the same mistakes again. Rita Grant is a former award-winning video producer. Going to reread The United States of Arugula by David Kamp.  Because it's a great reminder of how our current American culinary landscape was created. I'm ending with Rita because she also sent in another suggestion. Not a book, but a song – "You Can't Take That Away From Me," sung by the incomparable Ella Fitzgerald. As Rita noted, "The lyrics will stand the test of time.  They're a testament to what we hold in our hearts and imagination that can never be taken from us."

Lux Radio Theater "Christmas Holiday" September 17, 1945 CBS starring Loretta Young, David Bruce and William Holden story by Somerset Maugham

Stick to the plan. Anticipate, don't improvise. Trust no one. Never yield an advantage. Fight only the battle you're paid to fight… and if you can do all that while listening to The Smiths, even better. That's the mantra of the eponymous assassin at the heart of The Killer, directed by David Fincher and written by our guest today  – the fantastic Andrew Kevin Walker. The Killer is a movie that deconstructs the hitman movie genre like Michael Fassbender's glassy-eyed gun-for-hire deconstructing a McDonald's sandwich on a park bench in Paris. It opens with a blaze of images that tease the explosive action typical of these films then swerves in a different direction. The result is a defiantly meditative two hours in which the violence of the movie's revenge plot is almost incidental to the character's meticulous ways and detached observations about the world.It's an absolutely riveting watch but then again, what did we expect? Unlike The Killer himself – who misses his target early on in the film, sparking the film's descent into chaos – Andrew and Fincher rarely miss their mark whenever they work together. The pair first teamed up on 1995's Se7en, which began life as a spec script that Andrew wrote after moving to New York from suburban Pennsylvania. Since then, Andrew's taken passes at Fight Club and The Game for Fincher, on top of his solo adventures in Hollywood, penning films like Sleepy Hollow and 2022's excellent Windfall.In the spoiler conversation you're about to hear, Andy answers our questions about the subtle commentary on materialist culture woven into the film. We get into the influence of the novelist Somerset Maugham on Andy's work and break some of the film's most intriguing moments, including its enigmatic ending – in which a life is spared but existential questions loom.Script Apart is hosted by Al Horner and produced by Kamil Dymek. Follow us on Twitter and Instagram, or email us on thescriptapartpodcast@gmail.com.Support for this episode comes from ScreenCraft and WeScreenplay.To get ad-free episodes and exclusive content, join us on Patreon.Support the show

Tan Twan Eng's debut novel The Gift of Rain was longlisted for the Booker Prize in 2007 and has been widely translated. His second novel The Garden of Evening Mists won the Man Asian Literary Prize in 2012 and the 2013 Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction, and was shortlisted for the Booker Prize. Tan divides his time between Kuala Lumpur and Cape Town. His new novel is called The House of Doors and was long listed for the Booker Prize. We talked about W. Somerset Maugham, descriptive writing, historical research, having fun while writing, and the act of creation. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The new novel by Tan Twan Eng, The House of Doors, is a project of historical fiction immersed in the culturally rich island of Penang in the 1920s. A once revered, now flailing British writer arrives to visit a friend and find inspiration for a new book. What he uncovers – secret affairs, a murder trial, and deeply complicated relationships – proves to be more than he expected. In today's episode, NPR's Ari Shapiro asks the author about using the real writer W. Somerset Maugham as his protagonist, and about what writing from the perspective of the Brits reveals about imperialism.

Beth Golay recently spoke with "The House of Doors" author Tan Twan Eng about W. Somerset Maugham's private nature, capturing multiple perspectives on the page, and how he injected some imagination into the historic writer.

Two small masterpieces by W. Somerset Maugham: The Verger and Salvatore

The English novelist, playwright, and short story writer Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) lived a life as eventful as his prodigious literary output. In this episode, Jacke takes a look at Maugham's travels and travails, following Maugham across numerous continents as he sought material for his writing - and a safe resting place for himself and his various male companions. Then Jacke is joined by novelist Tan Twan Eng (The Gift of Rain, The Garden of Evening Mists) to discuss his new novel The House of Doors, which is based in part on Maugham's experiences on the Malay Peninsula. Help support the show at patreon.com/literature or historyofliterature.com/donate. The History of Literature Podcast is a member of Lit Hub Radio and the Podglomerate Network. Learn more at www.thepodglomerate.com/historyofliterature. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Chapter 1 What's Of Human Bondage"Of Human Bondage" is a semi-autobiographical novel written by British author W. Somerset Maugham. It was published in 1915 and tells the story of Philip Carey, a young orphan with a clubfoot, who struggles to find his place in the world. The novel explores themes such as love, art, religion, and the human condition. It is considered one of Maugham's most important works and a classic of English literature.Chapter 2 Why is Of Human Bondage Worth ReadOf Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham is worth reading for several reasons:1. Profound exploration of human nature: The novel delves deep into the complexities and contradictions of human character and emotions. It provides a detailed examination of the protagonist's journey, and how he navigates through life, love, and personal growth.2. Rich character development: Maugham's vivid characterizations make the novel highly engaging. The protagonist, Philip Carey, undergoes significant growth and transformation throughout the story, compelling readers to empathize with his struggles, successes, and failures.3. Realistic portrayal of life: Of Human Bondage presents a realistic depiction of the challenges individuals face in life. It tackles themes such as unrequited love, sexual desire, existential questions, and social expectations, making it relatable and thought-provoking for readers across generations.4. Beautifully written prose: Maugham's exquisite writing style and evocative prose make the novel a pleasure to read. His descriptive language and storytelling abilities create a vivid and immersive world, bringing the characters and settings to life.5. Timeless themes: The novel explores timeless themes such as self-discovery, personal freedom, and the struggle between passion and reason. These themes continue to resonate with readers, making the book relevant and enduring.Overall, Of Human Bondage is a classic work of literature that offers profound insights into the human condition, with compelling characters and a beautifully crafted narrative. It is a book that can be enjoyed by readers of various backgrounds and interests.Chapter 3 Of Human Bondage SummaryOf Human Bondage by William Somerset Maugham is a semi-autobiographical novel that follows the life of Philip Carey, a young English orphan. The novel explores themes of love, artistic pursuits, and the search for meaning and happiness in life.The story begins with young Philip being sent to live with his strict and unsympathetic uncle and aunt in Blackstable, a small town in England. Philip is born with a club foot, which becomes a source of insecurity and self-consciousness throughout his life.As he grows up, Philip becomes interested in art and desires to become a painter. However, his uncle believes that art is a frivolous pursuit and insists that Philip become a clergyman. Philip reluctantly agrees and enrolls in a theological college, though he quickly realizes that he lacks the passion and faith required for the profession.After leaving college, Philip moves to London to study art. It is here that he meets Mildred Rogers, a waitress with whom he becomes infatuated. Despite Mildred's manipulative and selfish nature, Philip becomes deeply attached to her and is willing to sacrifice his own happiness for her.Over the course of the novel, Philip's relationship with Mildred becomes increasingly toxic and destructive. He endures years of emotional abuse and humiliation as Mildred repeatedly rejects him and takes up with other men. Through this tumultuous relationship, Philip learns about the complexities of love and the limitations of his own desires.Throughout the novel, Philip also experiences a series of...