Part II of the wonderful collection of short stories set in the steamy jungles of Malaya. Maugham’s magic of story telling is simply enchanting! The tales are a product of its surroundings – in that the English code of conduct seem melt away under the Malayan sun, and in its place, vines of primal desires flourish: the murderous event that haunts a married couple (a few tales fit that description!), a sudden death on board a ship that unravels a sweet love affair, the violent outcome of two men in close proximity who detest one another. There is something so honest in their tragic moral falling; it is as refreshing as a strong gin and tonic.
My mother had a few of volumes of Maugham’s short story collections growing up. I must have been around 15, 16 when I flipped through them; I dare say I knew what was going on in the stories. But I remembered reading one of the titles from this collection: “Flotsam and Jetson.” It is also a lyric in a Rolling Stones song, and I remember asking my mother what it meant, though I can’t recall how she defined it. (Nor would I know how to either!) Who would have thought I would haphazardly pick up the same story years later in Singapore?
“Some people read for instruction, which is praiseworthy, and some for pleasure, which is innocent, but not a few read from habit, and I suppose that this is neither innocent nor praiseworthy. Of that lamentable company I am. Conversation after a time bores me, games tire me and my own thoughts, which we are told are the unfailing resource of a sensible man, haven a tendency to run dry. Then I fly to my books as the opium-smoker to his pipe.”
-The Book Bag
“…there were books to read when you were ill and books to read when your brain, all alert, craved for something to grapple with; there were books that you had always wanted to read, but in the hurry of life at home had never found time to; there were books to read at the sea when you were meandering through narrow waters on a tramp steamer, and there were books for bad weather when your whole cabin creaked and you had to wedge yourself in your bunk in order not to fall out; there were books chosen solely for their length, which you took with you when on some expedition you had to travel light, and there were the books you could read when you could read nothing else.”
-The Book Bag
“With the ferocity of an avenging angel she sought out the good in her fellow-men.”
– The Vessel of Wrath
“At last flesh and blood could stand it no longer and they became lovers. But the physical tie seemed to them the least important element of their relation, and indeed their way of living made it impossible for them, except very seldom, to enjoy any intimate connection. It was enough that they saw one another, though in the company of others, every day; a glance, a touch of the hand, assured them of their love, and that was all that mattered. The sexual act was no more than an affirmation of the union of their souls.”
– The Back of Beyond
JohannaAirth 
Leave a comment