Cakes And Ale
Novel
Cakes and Ale
W. Somerset Maugham
Being something of a bibliophile, I obtain books
much faster than I read them. As a consequence, there's a huge backlog of books
I always have in mind and on my bookshelves that I have to read. This list has
become intractably long now. I'm seized by a tormenting anxiety as I finish a
book and am confronted with the decision to pick up my next read. I dare not
waste my time on a book that I'll later regret having chosen. Time is at
premium. Life has only that many moments to offer. Number of books I intend to
read before I die, seems infinite. This dilemma tortured me incessantly in the
past. Of late, I've reached a truce with my insatiable hunger for books. I am
convinced it will matter little how many books I have read, the moment I kick
the bucket. What's important is I enjoy each book I read. I love seeing
beautiful books neatly stacked in my bookracks and I continue to acquire books
that entice me without worrying when I'll find time to read them. I have also
started reading again the books that gave me pleasure in the past. I have found
this exercise most joyful. I derive as much, perhaps more, pleasure as I read a
book second or third time, off course after a couple of years. I see the book
in a little different light, appreciating facets that had not occurred to me
earlier.
I read Somerset Maugham's Cakes and Ale for
the third time a few weeks back.
Cakes and Ale, a novel by Somerset Maugham was
published in 1930. Maugham was then at the peak of his career as a writer of
plays, short stories and novels. Maturity of his pen and his supreme skill as a
narrator of tales, after practicing the art for more than three decades, are
profusely on display in Cakes and Ale. This novel showcases Maugham’s unique
style of story-telling most tellingly: clarity of purpose, terse narrative,
simple and lucid prose, striking verisimilitude-the places and many characters
have been literally lifted from Maugham’s own life- and an endearingly suave
tongue-in-cheek humour.
This is story of Edward Driffield, an octogenarian
English author who has found immense popularity and reverential fan-following
in the dawn of his long life, when the best years of his writing skill have all
but deserted him long back. In his youth he lived a bohemian life, married to a
barmaid Rosie, in the small town of Blackstable. Maugham appears in the book as
the narrator, a writer himself, by the name of Ashenden. Ashenden too had spent
his childhood in Blackstable, and there he had befriended Driffield and Rosie.
Blackstable of fiction represents Whitstable of reality where Maugham’s uncle,
his guardian after the demise of his parents, was the vicar and where Maugham
spent some of the unhappiest days of his childhood. In short descriptions, Maugham
juxtaposes the irreverent, free and impious life of Driffields in the
background of rigid, narrow, and bigoted provincial culture of Blackstable.
Elderly Driffield later marries a Nurse who competently manages his affairs- at
a time when his powers of creation have dwindled considerably. His best work
was written when he lived with Rosie and is in past now. His second wife secures
for him the fame as the grand-old-man of English literature. She is helped in
this journey by Mrs Burton Trafford, a socialite and a literary agent of sorts.
Maugham spares Mrs Burton Trafford no barb of his (in)famous sardonic humour as
he goes about elucidating her sincere, heartfelt love and selfless service for
the upliftment of literature and its practitioners. On the death of Edward
Driffield, Mrs Driffield entrusts a
successful writer and a friend, Alroy Kear, with the onerous task of writing
Driffield’s biography. Alroy is Ashenden’s junior but hugely popular. He sees a
great opportunity in this enterprise, a call in the service of the profession
towards which he has devoted all his life and his humble offering to the memory
of the greatest English writer of twentieth century. In Alroy Kear, Maugham
crafts an incomparable character of a successful and popular author but one who
possesses little skills. Alroy banks on his sociable nature, gift of gab and
complaisant demeanour to bridge the gaping void in his writing capabilities.
Nowhere does Maugham disparage Alroy’s character overtly, although each
sentence about him seems to be mocking at the hollowness and superficiality in
Alroy’s life, but silently. Alroy approaches Ashenden, to help him with notes
about Driffield’s life at Blackstable. This has been a black chapter in
Driffield’s life. More than the material for the forthcoming biography, Alroy
and suave Mrs Driffield want Ashenden to promise them that he has no intentions
of writing about the reverential father-figure of written English word and
raking-up his disreputable past, of which Ashenden has had glimpses from close
quarters. Mrs Driffield and Alroy have decided to bring forth a biography of
Driffield that does justice to his gargantuan stature in literature. They do
not intend to sully the pages of such a pious book by any mention of a past
that does no credit to the illustrious future that followed it. The fact that
he produced his most critically acclaimed books in this period is just a chance
occurrence and this need not be highlighted in public memory. A major part of the
novel is devoted to Driffield’s and Rosie’s life in Blackstable.
I have always found women’s characterisation in
Maugham’s books stereotypical and lacking in subtle nuances of psyche that
characterise his male protagonists. Even in his many stories where protagonist
is a female, the personality of these are straitjacketed into a very narrow
range. Rosie of Cakes and Ale is perhaps one of the most lively of Maugham’s
heroines. Though she also follows Maugham’s somewhat staid female role models,
Maugham has given her a vivacious personality. She is a sensuous lady. Though
from humble family, she has an innate grace of soul. She is unpretentious, easy
to please and at complete peace with her circumstances in life. If she is a
philistine, she never pretends to enjoy or bother about Driffield’s
intellectual pursuits. She is uninhibited in her sexual life. She enjoys to go
to bed with any man she likes and who she feels likes her too. Maugham does not
sound very convincing as he makes a virtue out of her precocious sexual
proclivities. Though it’s not my case that these are essentially sinful either.
One can observe them naturally, merely as a manifestation of varied human
nature without being judgmental. It is through Rosie and a bit through younger
Driffield too, that Maugham celebrates the ‘cakes and ale’, the material joys
of life. A struggle between sybaritic pleasures and abstemious beatific joys of
a life of spirit, was a recurring theme in Maugham’s stories. In this book he
most effectively contrasts the captivating, unselfconscious joi-de-vivre of
Rosie with the shackling hypocrisy of the early twentieth-century English
society. Maugham probably based the character of Rosie on his once close friend
Sue Jones. Rosie is Maugham’s most full-blooded, bubbling with life, loving and
in turn lovable, female lead characters. It’s not difficult to believe he was
attempting to immortalise in the role of Rosie, his one-time love, Sue Jones,
whom he had even proposed. This is also one book by which he wanted to be
remembered. He once said this about the book, “I am
willing enough to agree with common opinion that Of Human Bondage is my
best work ... But the book I like best is Cakes and Ale ...
because in its pages lives for me again the woman with the lovely smile who was
the model for Rosie Driffield’. In the end, there are some unexpected
turns in the fate of the protagonists. Maugham uses these incidences deftly to
highlight the particular personality of his characters that he has been
striving in the story to portray subtly.
Maugham, as Ashenden appears in the narrative
often. He has captured poignantly certain tender moments of his childhood and
his time spent in London studying medicine.
Book is an incomparable satire on the lives of high
and mighty of literary world, people who usually are miles from the real
purpose of any art, which is creation of a work of beauty. Some may find enough
evidence of Maugham’s infamous cynicism in the book but none can deny its cast-iron
form and the searing beauty of its structure. This is the work of a master,
sitting at the apogee of his creative powers. The taut narrative, stunning
characters carved most scrupulously, and a beguilingly lucid prose, simply take
your breath away.
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