It is an interesting experience to read, one after the other, The Master and Margarita and The Razor’s Edge, two very different works. It is impossible not to be impressed by the ingenuity of the former: it reads smoothly; it intrigues and suggests; from the very beginning, the eagerness to turn to the next page never wanes. It is a masterpiece. The second, however, does not display such exuberant creativity. What happens, nevertheless, is this: a novel, in order to be written, demands certain qualities from the author; therefore, experience enables one to write authoritatively on subjects beyond the reach of youth. Thus, the critic, perhaps rightly, may say that Bulgakov’s novel is artistically superior; but the philosopher, also rightly, may note that there is perhaps no nobler goal for a novelist than to develop the qualities that Maugham proved himself capable of possessing.