This book is proof of what Mário Ferreira dos Santos said—that the novel is a work of maturity. A young person could never have written it: Maugham, at seventy years old, proves himself capable of describing the immense and complex array of possibilities that existence offers. It is a work that portrays character types and choices, possible lives, circumstances, ambitions, and outcomes. It features human traits ranging from the most despicable to the most noble. And there is that unforgettable Larry Darrell, whose life is cut short by the end of the narrative, leaving us inclined to plead with God to bring Maugham back to life so he can finish what he started. Yet a character like this, even if incomplete, makes the book worthwhile: he is a portrait of how rare qualities manifest themselves in the world, of how they elude the obvious, reject the convenient, and seem to stray down an uncertain and undesirable path. In short, they seem like failures. And failure may seem like success. And in the end, one cannot judge with certainty, because sometimes an apparent fidelity to one’s own nature harbors in the past a rejected possibility—perhaps a more authentic one—that was unable to bear fruit. Everything remains in limbo; yet we are left with the privilege of being able to read and reread this exceptional novel.