Luciano Duarte

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.

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.

Reading Nietzsche, more than anything else, evokes a sense of the grandeur of study, writing, philosophy, and art. He is an author who ennobles these pursuits as few others do, and reading him is therefore among the most stimulating experiences for anyone aspiring to engage in them. Hence, just as he matures pessimism by transforming it into something new, his work can transform a student who is merely inclined toward intellectual pursuits into someone who is self-aware, proud, and determined to ground his life in as much as he can draw from their immense value.