Theatre
by W. Somerset Maugham
My rating: 4 out of 5 stars
After relishing Of Human Bondage, penned 22
years before this and adapted into a career-defining Bette Davis movie, I was
surprised on several levels by Theatre, whose 2004 screen adaption
scored Annette Bening a Best Actress Golden Globe and an Oscar nomination
for Being Julia.
Firstly, I was surprised by its great readability, of the
kind that defies conventional analysis; that literary X-factor distinguishing
great writers from good ones, their material striking an artful balance between
adequacy and audacity.
Secondly, I was surprised that Theatre's magic
is not in its delivery, which is clunky for such a successful wordsmith (he had
this published in 1937, forty years after his breakthrough novel, Liza
of Lambeth). Nor is his command of vocabulary so apparent here, as was
noted by contemporary critics, several of whom were unimpressed by this novel.
Thirdly, I was surprised to see that word economy was not
one of Theatre's notable stylistic features. Maugham's evolved
indifference to narrative refinement suggests publication teams had become shy
of engaging with this giant. Nor is the style, conversely, so flamboyant.
Perhaps he had simply come to hold less concern for form
than his less prolific contemporaries, more confidence in the purity of his
storytelling. This is strangely reassuring.
Those first three questions collectively begged the fourth
and ultimate one for me: how did he get away with being so blasé?
I believe the answer is that, like so many prolific masters
of the era, Maugham had relaxed into his art sufficiently not to need to prove
much anymore. This piece might never have kick started his career, decades
before; his vast readership had simply, by 1937, developed a steady appetite
for whatever he wrote.
The essence of this fiction lies in its bare substance,
rather than its presentation. As such, Theatre defies the
discerning reader's better judgement by refusing to be put down despite
conspicuous imperfections. Its key strength lies in the authentic
characterisation, most notably that of protagonist Julia Lambert.
Perhaps a crucial ingredient is its triggering of the
reader's speculation as to which of this novelist-playwright's countless
actress friends Julia Lambert parodies – not that she is a mere parody; on the
contrary, here is a finely nuanced and compellingly original heroine. Maugham
was famously friends with the likes of Gladys Cooper and Ethel Barrymore, to
name but a couple, which lures the inquisitive mind down intriguing paths.
I devoured this roughly crafted gem like a famished hyena and shan't hesitate to reread it down the track.
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