Moon and Sixpence is a beautifully written novel about a very ugly person. I do not mean physically, but rather spiritually. The novel is loosely based on the life of the artist Paul Gaugin. The setting is a combination of London, Paris and Tahiti during the late 1800s and is told through the third person voice of a male character that acts as a witness and observer. The novel centers on the life of the artist and is about the drive of the artist to create. The thought and the idea Moon and Sixpence left me with is that great artists and great creators are so driven by something that non-creatives cannot understand. This drive leads them to live outside of regular life and be willing to abandon ties to loved ones and society. The theme and concept is similar to that in The Paris Wife which is about Ernest Hemingway and his first wife. To be great, to create big does one have to be an asshole? Must one surrender completely to the craft and the drive? I just do not accept it. What I really was left with at the end of this book is the conviction that Paul Gaugin was an ass.This novel drew me in and painted a very rich world for me as a reader to occupy for a short time. It is a short read and it is rewarding. Yet it was so unlike The Painted Veil by Maugham which I so loved. I loved the societal and gendered critique buried in The Painted Veil. But I found none of that in Moon and Sixpence. Instead it is full of dated gender, racial and ethnic concepts. And ultimately it is extremely ethnocentric and often times offensive. Yet, I think it may purposely portray misogynistic and ethnocentric values because these are suitable to the storyline. I am not sure. The descriptions and commentary on the Tahitians and women are in such strong contrast to the descriptions in The Painted Veil that I believe they were less of a message and more of ambience creators. So the artist that is the focus of the story is called Strickland and his is an A Class Asshole. He walks away from his family and children and leaves them to potentially starve. He does not care what happens to them and never looks back. He has no affection or gratitude for anyone. He has little care if those around him die or suffer because of him. Why? The why is because he is driven to paint, to create. Creation is all he wants to do and what he feels he must do. And as such – everyone around him suffers the consequences of his indifference. Does it really take such an extreme self-focus to be great? Does the creative process demand an abandonment of kindness and love? I may be naïve, but I just cannot accept that. I recommend this book for anyone who is interested in the artist’s life, fans of Maugham’s writing and readers who enjoy reading about Paris at the turn of the century.
