What do you think?
Rate this book
In villa
Quando si parla di gemme letterarie, di macchine narrative i cui meccanismi funzionano come gli ingranaggi di un orologio, di storie che riescono a ospitare, in poche decine di pagine, il respiro della letteratura, si allude a qualcosa che è realmente esistito – a quell’altissimo artigianato che ha avuto per motivi imperscrutabili la sua grande stagione nei primi decenni del secolo, e di cui libri come In villa giustificano il rimpianto. Gli ingredienti di base dai quali nascevano questi capolavori erano spesso, doverosamente, elementari: qui, un décor quasi convenzionale (la Firenze frequentata dalla colonia inglese, vista però da una distanza più ravvicinata del solito), una donna bellissima e a suo modo perduta, due uomini molto diversi che se la contendono, e al centro uno scabroso fatto di sangue. Ma per combinarli ci voleva la mano di un maestro come Maugham. Che in questo romanzo ritroviamo al suo meglio: trame impeccabili, cliché affettuosamente massacrati, lampi di letale ironia sparsi fra le battute di una conversazione elevata a forma d’arte. E il tutto in uno spirito di devota fedeltà a un dio esigente: il piacere della lettura. In villa è apparso per la prima volta nel 1941.
126 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1941
151 people are currently reading
6216 people want to read
About the author
W. Somerset Maugham
2,131 books6,118 followersWilliam Somerset Maugham was born in Paris in 1874. He spoke French even before he spoke a word of English, a fact to which some critics attribute the purity of his style.
His parents died early and, after an unhappy boyhood, which he recorded poignantly in Of Human Bondage, Maugham became a qualified physician. But writing was his true vocation. For ten years before his first success, he almost literally starved while pouring out novels and plays.
Maugham wrote at a time when experimental modernist literature such as that of William Faulkner, Thomas Mann, James Joyce and Virginia Woolf was gaining increasing popularity and winning critical acclaim. In this context, his plain prose style was criticized as 'such a tissue of clichés' that one's wonder is finally aroused at the writer's ability to assemble so many and at his unfailing inability to put anything in an individual way.
During World War I, Maugham worked for the British Secret Service . He travelled all over the world, and made many visits to America. After World War II, Maugham made his home in south of France and continued to move between England and Nice till his death in 1965.
At the time of Maugham's birth, French law was such that all foreign boys born in France became liable for conscription. Thus, Maugham was born within the Embassy, legally recognized as UK territory.
His parents died early and, after an unhappy boyhood, which he recorded poignantly in Of Human Bondage, Maugham became a qualified physician. But writing was his true vocation. For ten years before his first success, he almost literally starved while pouring out novels and plays.
Maugham wrote at a time when experimental modernist literature such as that of William Faulkner, Thomas Mann, James Joyce and Virginia Woolf was gaining increasing popularity and winning critical acclaim. In this context, his plain prose style was criticized as 'such a tissue of clichés' that one's wonder is finally aroused at the writer's ability to assemble so many and at his unfailing inability to put anything in an individual way.
During World War I, Maugham worked for the British Secret Service . He travelled all over the world, and made many visits to America. After World War II, Maugham made his home in south of France and continued to move between England and Nice till his death in 1965.
At the time of Maugham's birth, French law was such that all foreign boys born in France became liable for conscription. Thus, Maugham was born within the Embassy, legally recognized as UK territory.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 933 reviews
February 21, 2022
LA DONNA È MOBILE
La villa
Ambientato sulle colline di Firenze:
La villa si trovava in cima a una collina. La terrazza antistante offriva una splendida veduta di Firenze.
Rimanda a quella nutrita e colta comunità inglese che a Firenze visse, o soggiornò, di cui forse Forster (A Room with a View) e James (Portrait of a Lady) sono gli esempi di maggiore spicco.
Ho scolpito nella memoria quel passaggio di Fratelli d’Italia in cui la ricca (e rozza) padrona di casa dice la cifra che ha speso per qualcosa, un mobile o un quadro o altro, e la dice in inglese per non farsi capire dalla servitù, “ten millions” - e come ciliegina sulla torta accompagna le parole col chiaro gesto delle due mani spalancate a mostrare le dieci dita.
Nella stessa mondana situazione, la donna non capisce di avere tra i suoi ospiti Maugham, perché tra la pronuncia inglese e la sua c’è una grossa differenza (mɔːm, che per la lady diventa mogham).
”Up at the Villa – Una notte per decidere”, 2000, regia di Philip Haas.
L’azione si svolge principalmente alla villa e in un tempo abbastanza concentrato, soprattutto una lunga notte.
Una giovane donna molto bella, Mary, è già vedova ad appena trent’anni. Si è sposata a ventuno, innamorata, per scoprire presto che suo marito beveva e giocava d’azzardo, andava a donne e le picchiava, a cominciare da sua moglie. Ubriaco, l’uomo ha un incidente d’auto e muore tra le braccia di Mary: una fortuna per lei, e per essere gentili, diciamo per entrambi.
Per superare (l’apparente) trauma, una coppia di amici le offre la loro villa sulle colline che sovrastano Firenze, servitù inclusa.
Siamo sul finire degli anni Trenta, la guerra alle porte e il fascismo che schiaccia l’Italia ormai da tempo (sicuramente troppo): Mary apprezza la villeggiatura, apprezza la compagnia degli altri espatriati, e soprattutto, il luogo è magnifico.
Durante una cena al ristorante, la Principessa San Ferdinando (Anne Bancroft nel film, la leggendaria Mrs Robinson che m’ha fatto sognare per un paio di vite) cerca di spingere Mary tra le braccia di Flint, un altro inglese, giovane e attraente, ma di mezzi incerti e abitudini un po’ tanto indipendenti. Mary accompagna Flint in albergo, lui ci prova, lei lo scoraggia.
Tornando alla villa incontra il mediocre violinista che aveva suonato al ristorante durante la cena. È austriaco, in fuga dai nazisti. Mary lo accoglie, lo porta alla villa, lo nutre, e se lo porta a letto.
Ma al mattino lui non se ne vuole più andare, è insistente. In casa c’è un revolver e finisce che…
Potrebbe sembrare un thriller: c’è la pistola, c’è lo sparo, c’è un cadavere, bisogna sbarazzarsi del corpo… Ma non è un thriller.
Potrebbe sembrare un romanzo tendente al rosa: la giovane bella vedova, la corte del giovane avventuriero Flint, quella più consistente di un vecchio amico di famiglia che vuole riportarla sull’altare e poi in India dove sta per essere nominato viceré… Ma non è un romanzo rosa.
Anche se non è il Maugham migliore, quello che ho imparato ad apprezzare e amare, anche in queste poche paginette (centodieci) si ritrova quella capacità di scrittura che sembra sgorgare “naturale” come l’acqua di fonte. Una caratteristica della migliore letteratura inglese, secondo me: a volte si ha l’impressione che siano stati proprio loro a inventare la narrativa.
Come probabilmente hanno inventato l’ironia, o il sense of humour.
Il film non va da nessuna parte, è uno di quelli che si definiscono “non risolti”. Sia Kristin Scott Thomas che Sean Penn hanno almeno dieci anni di più dei personaggi sulla carta, e questo cambia la geometria dei sentimenti e dei percorsi esistenziali di entrambi i personaggi. Manca la leggerezza del romanzo. Il piacere di vedere due belle e brave star vestite in eleganti abiti d’epoca, e poco altro.
Anche la villa è altrove, nella campagna senese, a Sovicille.
-E adesso?
- Be’, se insisti nel volermi sposare… Ma è un terribile rischio quello che corriamo.
- Tesoro, è per questo che è fatta la vita… per correre rischi.
PS
“La donna è mobile” viene cantata a squarciagola da un gruppo di italiani ubriachi che vedono Mary e Flint baciarsi: cosa che i due inglesi stanno facendo per distrarre gli italiani da ben altra azione.
La villa
La villa
Ambientato sulle colline di Firenze:
La villa si trovava in cima a una collina. La terrazza antistante offriva una splendida veduta di Firenze.
Rimanda a quella nutrita e colta comunità inglese che a Firenze visse, o soggiornò, di cui forse Forster (A Room with a View) e James (Portrait of a Lady) sono gli esempi di maggiore spicco.
Ho scolpito nella memoria quel passaggio di Fratelli d’Italia in cui la ricca (e rozza) padrona di casa dice la cifra che ha speso per qualcosa, un mobile o un quadro o altro, e la dice in inglese per non farsi capire dalla servitù, “ten millions” - e come ciliegina sulla torta accompagna le parole col chiaro gesto delle due mani spalancate a mostrare le dieci dita.
Nella stessa mondana situazione, la donna non capisce di avere tra i suoi ospiti Maugham, perché tra la pronuncia inglese e la sua c’è una grossa differenza (mɔːm, che per la lady diventa mogham).
”Up at the Villa – Una notte per decidere”, 2000, regia di Philip Haas.
L’azione si svolge principalmente alla villa e in un tempo abbastanza concentrato, soprattutto una lunga notte.
Una giovane donna molto bella, Mary, è già vedova ad appena trent’anni. Si è sposata a ventuno, innamorata, per scoprire presto che suo marito beveva e giocava d’azzardo, andava a donne e le picchiava, a cominciare da sua moglie. Ubriaco, l’uomo ha un incidente d’auto e muore tra le braccia di Mary: una fortuna per lei, e per essere gentili, diciamo per entrambi.
Per superare (l’apparente) trauma, una coppia di amici le offre la loro villa sulle colline che sovrastano Firenze, servitù inclusa.
Siamo sul finire degli anni Trenta, la guerra alle porte e il fascismo che schiaccia l’Italia ormai da tempo (sicuramente troppo): Mary apprezza la villeggiatura, apprezza la compagnia degli altri espatriati, e soprattutto, il luogo è magnifico.
Durante una cena al ristorante, la Principessa San Ferdinando (Anne Bancroft nel film, la leggendaria Mrs Robinson che m’ha fatto sognare per un paio di vite) cerca di spingere Mary tra le braccia di Flint, un altro inglese, giovane e attraente, ma di mezzi incerti e abitudini un po’ tanto indipendenti. Mary accompagna Flint in albergo, lui ci prova, lei lo scoraggia.
Tornando alla villa incontra il mediocre violinista che aveva suonato al ristorante durante la cena. È austriaco, in fuga dai nazisti. Mary lo accoglie, lo porta alla villa, lo nutre, e se lo porta a letto.
Ma al mattino lui non se ne vuole più andare, è insistente. In casa c’è un revolver e finisce che…
Potrebbe sembrare un thriller: c’è la pistola, c’è lo sparo, c’è un cadavere, bisogna sbarazzarsi del corpo… Ma non è un thriller.
Potrebbe sembrare un romanzo tendente al rosa: la giovane bella vedova, la corte del giovane avventuriero Flint, quella più consistente di un vecchio amico di famiglia che vuole riportarla sull’altare e poi in India dove sta per essere nominato viceré… Ma non è un romanzo rosa.
Anche se non è il Maugham migliore, quello che ho imparato ad apprezzare e amare, anche in queste poche paginette (centodieci) si ritrova quella capacità di scrittura che sembra sgorgare “naturale” come l’acqua di fonte. Una caratteristica della migliore letteratura inglese, secondo me: a volte si ha l’impressione che siano stati proprio loro a inventare la narrativa.
Come probabilmente hanno inventato l’ironia, o il sense of humour.
Il film non va da nessuna parte, è uno di quelli che si definiscono “non risolti”. Sia Kristin Scott Thomas che Sean Penn hanno almeno dieci anni di più dei personaggi sulla carta, e questo cambia la geometria dei sentimenti e dei percorsi esistenziali di entrambi i personaggi. Manca la leggerezza del romanzo. Il piacere di vedere due belle e brave star vestite in eleganti abiti d’epoca, e poco altro.
Anche la villa è altrove, nella campagna senese, a Sovicille.
-E adesso?
- Be’, se insisti nel volermi sposare… Ma è un terribile rischio quello che corriamo.
- Tesoro, è per questo che è fatta la vita… per correre rischi.
PS
“La donna è mobile” viene cantata a squarciagola da un gruppo di italiani ubriachi che vedono Mary e Flint baciarsi: cosa che i due inglesi stanno facendo per distrarre gli italiani da ben altra azione.
La villa
January 5, 2014
I remember being in a café with a friend once when a guy walked in who obviously had some kind of mild disability to do with his legs – he hobbled over to a table and sat down heavily, and then looked around him at the greasy spoon with an air of deep depression. Amy stared at him and sighed and said, ‘I wish I was really really pretty so I could be a little moment of happiness in his day.’ I remember being surprised, because it sounded, somehow, like something a female character would say in a book written by a male author, rather than in real life.
This sort of cool assessment of how the other sex might see you is quite hard for anyone to pull off; and also, men and women experience it very differently. Hence you often hear men (Kingsley Amis among others) complaining that they can't understand why women find it so offensive to be seen as a sex object when they'd love to be seen that way – apparently not grasping the possibility that it's a lot easier to enjoy some well-intentioned sexual objectification if you're not being subjected to it 24/7 by society at large.
I am thinking about all this because Up at the Villa involves a character who has a similar impulse of – well, call it generosity or condescension, depending on your mood – concerning her own attractiveness, and which proves pivotal to the plot. She's a young window, who's just had two proposals of marriage, and doesn't feel particularly inspired by either of them. But it's made her very aware that she has something men want.
If you're objecting that this sounds unworkable, or patronising, or that sex should be a mutual experience rather than something ‘given’ by a woman to a man, then this slim novella may well be for you, because it explores the possible consequences of this attitude in detail – not without a considerable touch of melodrama, but nonetheless in a way that raises some interesting issues.
The setting is the hills around Florence, sparsely but nicely described, and the period is apparently just before the Second World War, or possibly sometime near the beginning of it. The war itself is never mentioned, but the setting must be after 1938 because one character has fled Austria after the Nazi invasion, two of his friends having been shot in the process. (‘It all sounds rather horrible,’ comments our heroine…um, well yes, Mary, I suppose that's one way to describe the Anschluß, yes, ‘rather horrible’.)
Sexual politics among wealthy Brits abroad might sound like the height of inconsequential bullshit, but although this is a little heavy-handed in parts, I thought it was enjoyable. It's slight enough that you can bomb through the whole thing in a ninety-minute train journey – from King's Cross to Lincoln Central, say, including a change at Newark – and it makes me interested to read some of Maugham's better-known works.
This sort of cool assessment of how the other sex might see you is quite hard for anyone to pull off; and also, men and women experience it very differently. Hence you often hear men (Kingsley Amis among others) complaining that they can't understand why women find it so offensive to be seen as a sex object when they'd love to be seen that way – apparently not grasping the possibility that it's a lot easier to enjoy some well-intentioned sexual objectification if you're not being subjected to it 24/7 by society at large.
I am thinking about all this because Up at the Villa involves a character who has a similar impulse of – well, call it generosity or condescension, depending on your mood – concerning her own attractiveness, and which proves pivotal to the plot. She's a young window, who's just had two proposals of marriage, and doesn't feel particularly inspired by either of them. But it's made her very aware that she has something men want.
‘I should be a fool if I didn't know I was prettier than most women. It's true that sometimes I felt that I had something to give that might mean a great deal to the person I gave it to. Does that sound frightfully conceited? […] My poor Rowley, you're the last man I would ever have had an affair with. But I've sometimes thought that if I ever ran across someone who was poor, alone and unhappy, who'd never had any pleasure in life, who'd never known any of the good things money can buy – and if I could give him a unique experience, an hour of absolute happiness, something that he'd never dreamt of and that would never be repeated, then I'd give him gladly everything I had to give.’
If you're objecting that this sounds unworkable, or patronising, or that sex should be a mutual experience rather than something ‘given’ by a woman to a man, then this slim novella may well be for you, because it explores the possible consequences of this attitude in detail – not without a considerable touch of melodrama, but nonetheless in a way that raises some interesting issues.
The setting is the hills around Florence, sparsely but nicely described, and the period is apparently just before the Second World War, or possibly sometime near the beginning of it. The war itself is never mentioned, but the setting must be after 1938 because one character has fled Austria after the Nazi invasion, two of his friends having been shot in the process. (‘It all sounds rather horrible,’ comments our heroine…um, well yes, Mary, I suppose that's one way to describe the Anschluß, yes, ‘rather horrible’.)
Sexual politics among wealthy Brits abroad might sound like the height of inconsequential bullshit, but although this is a little heavy-handed in parts, I thought it was enjoyable. It's slight enough that you can bomb through the whole thing in a ninety-minute train journey – from King's Cross to Lincoln Central, say, including a change at Newark – and it makes me interested to read some of Maugham's better-known works.
August 14, 2024
My middle child picked up this skinny novel for me at a used bookstore last week, thinking it would be a perfect addition to my 1930s reading project. It doesn't qualify; the publication date is 1941, but how exciting is it that a 16-year-old recognized a book as being from that particular time period?
Regardless, I went ahead and read this short novel on our flight home this week and I was totally and completely captured by the story. But, before I share my very short reading response, I really, really need to take a moment to gripe about something.
When I was a teenager, I was captivated by the literature that came, specifically, out of the 1930s and 1940s. I think I could accurately describe myself as “cutting my teeth” on this work, before I headed off to college to dedicate my professional life to writing and literary criticism. The authors, from this particular time period, were, essentially, my favorites of all time.
When I set out to do this 1930s reading project, I intentionally committed myself to reading as many books, as possible, that were new to me. This project wasn't about rereads; this was a new challenge, to perceive the work from this decade in a fresh way (though I have included a few rereads).
It has been a meaningful project, thus far, but I do want to contribute this: the flippant and casual abuse of the women in these stories has been absolutely staggering to me.
The female characters are not only casually slapped and backhanded, they are also casually raped AND gang-raped in many of these stories.
Am I referring, in this moment, to plot points? Am I referring to the violence AS the story? No, I am not. That is the most disturbing part. I am referring to a pervasive, consistent and casual violence on women as a background aspect to these stories. Meaning: this isn't a case of authors depicting their characters in this way, to represent the culture of the time (as writers like Larry McMurtry would later depict rampant abuse on women in the state of Texas—abuse he clearly abhorred and was surrounded by, as a youth).
The violence on women, in stories like Maugham's UP AT THE VILLA, is so casual, it's easy to induce stomachaches, just by reading it.
On page 60 of this famous novella, our hysterical, beautiful protagonist, Mary, cries when she is overwrought by an unexpected violent act on a local man. Her male companion (and eager suitor), “Rowley” sees her crying and “he swung his arm and gave her a sharp, stinging slap on the face; she was so startled that she sprang to her feet with a gasp and stopped crying as quickly as she had begun.”
Later in the story, page 93, Mary reflects on Rowley's “slap:”
It was the sexual jealousy of the male, baulked in his desire, that had caused Rowley to give her that vicious blow; it was odd what a strange, proud feeling it gave her suddenly to know that. She could not help giving him a look in which there was the suspicion of a smile. Their eyes met.
He responds with, “And if you start getting an inferiority complex, I shall give you such a hiding as you won't forget for a month.”
Just in case you are unclear. . . this is a desirable, romantic suitor of Mary's, not an enemy.
His violent act gave her a “strange, proud feeling.” (This is another common sentiment of the times).
And this is what I have uncovered, over and over again. Some of our greatest male writers, writing of a casual violence of men on women, without any concern over the ramifications, or having anything to do with plot or character development. It was clearly an accepted aspect of society, and, thus far, I can tell you that some of our greatest male writers of the time participated in it: Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, W. Somerset Maugham, Herman Hesse, Dashiell Hammett.
So. . . when I tell you that I really LIKED this story. . . liked the action, the suspense, the character development, the romantic element. . . I must also share that this casual violence took me right OUT of the story, too.
And, do you know what is the part that sits the heaviest with me? When I was a teenager, I didn't even RECOGNIZE this. I was born in the 1970s and, even though I was born into a time of watching women on the news burn bras, I was also reading these works of “great literature” and internalizing God knows what.
If anyone's confused over what has happened to the traditional roles of men and women today, do you need anything more than to read this excerpt from Nathaneal West's MISS LONELYHEARTS (1933):
He decided to go to Delehanty's for a drink. In the speakeasy, he discovered a group of his friends at the bar. They greeted him and went on talking. One of them was complaining about the number of female writers.
“And they've all got three names,” he said. “Mary Roberts Wilcox, Ella Wheeler Catheter, Ford Mary Rinehart. . .”
Then some one started a train of stories by suggesting that what they all needed was a good rape.
“I knew a gal who was regular until she fell in with a group and went literary. She began writing for the little magazines about how much Beauty hurt her and ditched the boyfriend who set up pins in a bowling alley. The guys on the block got sore and took her into the lots one night. About eight of them. They ganged her proper. . .”
I don't know how anyone could read that paragraph without needing an antacid.
So: three stars to an adventurous story that W. Somerset Maugham dreamed up one day, but it's super obvious to me, both from reading CAKES AND ALE, and now this one, that the man had zero respect for women and even less for people of color.
Let's just say. . . I've been observing myself putting more and more books by the male authors from the 1930s in the donation box and hunting online for the out-of-print books from the female authors of the same time.
(If you made it to this bottom line, I thank you, sincerely, for this opportunity to vent).
Regardless, I went ahead and read this short novel on our flight home this week and I was totally and completely captured by the story. But, before I share my very short reading response, I really, really need to take a moment to gripe about something.
When I was a teenager, I was captivated by the literature that came, specifically, out of the 1930s and 1940s. I think I could accurately describe myself as “cutting my teeth” on this work, before I headed off to college to dedicate my professional life to writing and literary criticism. The authors, from this particular time period, were, essentially, my favorites of all time.
When I set out to do this 1930s reading project, I intentionally committed myself to reading as many books, as possible, that were new to me. This project wasn't about rereads; this was a new challenge, to perceive the work from this decade in a fresh way (though I have included a few rereads).
It has been a meaningful project, thus far, but I do want to contribute this: the flippant and casual abuse of the women in these stories has been absolutely staggering to me.
The female characters are not only casually slapped and backhanded, they are also casually raped AND gang-raped in many of these stories.
Am I referring, in this moment, to plot points? Am I referring to the violence AS the story? No, I am not. That is the most disturbing part. I am referring to a pervasive, consistent and casual violence on women as a background aspect to these stories. Meaning: this isn't a case of authors depicting their characters in this way, to represent the culture of the time (as writers like Larry McMurtry would later depict rampant abuse on women in the state of Texas—abuse he clearly abhorred and was surrounded by, as a youth).
The violence on women, in stories like Maugham's UP AT THE VILLA, is so casual, it's easy to induce stomachaches, just by reading it.
On page 60 of this famous novella, our hysterical, beautiful protagonist, Mary, cries when she is overwrought by an unexpected violent act on a local man. Her male companion (and eager suitor), “Rowley” sees her crying and “he swung his arm and gave her a sharp, stinging slap on the face; she was so startled that she sprang to her feet with a gasp and stopped crying as quickly as she had begun.”
Later in the story, page 93, Mary reflects on Rowley's “slap:”
It was the sexual jealousy of the male, baulked in his desire, that had caused Rowley to give her that vicious blow; it was odd what a strange, proud feeling it gave her suddenly to know that. She could not help giving him a look in which there was the suspicion of a smile. Their eyes met.
He responds with, “And if you start getting an inferiority complex, I shall give you such a hiding as you won't forget for a month.”
Just in case you are unclear. . . this is a desirable, romantic suitor of Mary's, not an enemy.
His violent act gave her a “strange, proud feeling.” (This is another common sentiment of the times).
And this is what I have uncovered, over and over again. Some of our greatest male writers, writing of a casual violence of men on women, without any concern over the ramifications, or having anything to do with plot or character development. It was clearly an accepted aspect of society, and, thus far, I can tell you that some of our greatest male writers of the time participated in it: Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, W. Somerset Maugham, Herman Hesse, Dashiell Hammett.
So. . . when I tell you that I really LIKED this story. . . liked the action, the suspense, the character development, the romantic element. . . I must also share that this casual violence took me right OUT of the story, too.
And, do you know what is the part that sits the heaviest with me? When I was a teenager, I didn't even RECOGNIZE this. I was born in the 1970s and, even though I was born into a time of watching women on the news burn bras, I was also reading these works of “great literature” and internalizing God knows what.
If anyone's confused over what has happened to the traditional roles of men and women today, do you need anything more than to read this excerpt from Nathaneal West's MISS LONELYHEARTS (1933):
He decided to go to Delehanty's for a drink. In the speakeasy, he discovered a group of his friends at the bar. They greeted him and went on talking. One of them was complaining about the number of female writers.
“And they've all got three names,” he said. “Mary Roberts Wilcox, Ella Wheeler Catheter, Ford Mary Rinehart. . .”
Then some one started a train of stories by suggesting that what they all needed was a good rape.
“I knew a gal who was regular until she fell in with a group and went literary. She began writing for the little magazines about how much Beauty hurt her and ditched the boyfriend who set up pins in a bowling alley. The guys on the block got sore and took her into the lots one night. About eight of them. They ganged her proper. . .”
I don't know how anyone could read that paragraph without needing an antacid.
So: three stars to an adventurous story that W. Somerset Maugham dreamed up one day, but it's super obvious to me, both from reading CAKES AND ALE, and now this one, that the man had zero respect for women and even less for people of color.
Let's just say. . . I've been observing myself putting more and more books by the male authors from the 1930s in the donation box and hunting online for the out-of-print books from the female authors of the same time.
(If you made it to this bottom line, I thank you, sincerely, for this opportunity to vent).
February 4, 2026
This may seem inconsequential another book of rich people doing things not very ethical to say the least, playing in the Renaissance city of Florence before World War Two, parties, gossip and enjoying themselves while ignoring the ominous politics which soon will engulf the world. Play in the sun straight ahead no detours a continuous eruption of hazy emotional emptiness as they reach for amusement in a life of feeling nothing....Mary a young beauty, the English widow (a drunk husband) secretly relieved of her new status but bored , her aimless absurd journey lacks meaning meeting a genuine dangerous man. How nice, Rowley Flint, notorious playboy who loves women and is reciprocated back stating it mildly. A good looking anti- hero he's not but roguish charm in abundance , shall the moth fly to the flame? Again the answer is obvious to any well -read reader, for since Eve the forbidden fruit is temptation that can't be resisted. So to balance the short novel the good Sir Edgar Swift appears, a distinguished though 25 years her senior gentleman, back from abroad and has been offered the position as the next governor in the Indian vital state of Bengal, a rising career reaching to unlimited possibilities. Mary Panton has a marriage proposal from him the wise choice she thinks... yes, your troubles end a dull life with a kind husband much older but safe , no great passionate love still a somewhat comfortable existence, contentment, a loyal friend she has known since her childhood. However things aren't always clear, unforeseen difficulties arise out of the dark skies, the way people react tells us their worth for words are easy to say , actions give society the true measurement of a persons abilities. Princess San Ferdinando head of the small high society in Florence, though an American, the old lady widowed for many years from an Italian Prince. To amuse , she likes to flirt and be a match maker for both Mary and Sir Edgar in particular, encourage the young woman to agree to be his bride. Nevertheless an unexpected death causes turmoil to the main characters, scandal must not come out the secrets kept hidden, otherwise some will suffer the innocent as well the guilty ones. The real surprise not a denouncement however, just the facts that humans are neither totally good or evil but rather a combination, they aren't quite pure of heart, some dark spots too are there.
September 29, 2023
I know my dresses. The one on this cover is all wrong. Publishers, get a grip! Don't mislead us. This novella isn't set in the twenties but late, late, thirties or, like its publication date, 1941. Why, you say, does this matter? Because it's sloppy marketing at best or, worse, makes out this is a pretty story which it's not.
Without revealing what happens, just look at the pivotal character. He is a refugee. If caught, he will be deported to his imprisonment or death. An Austrian, he opposed the Nazi take over his country and was put in a concentration camp outside Linz. As usual Maugham gets his details right. After the Anschluss (Annexation) of Austria in 1938, those opposed to the German Reich were sent to Mauthausen (20 kilometres from Linz) where as slave labor they dug granite quarries. Those who survived were then forced to build the concentration camp in which they were kept. Karl was one of them. Karl is also young and handsome. And a woman is feeling, well, how you do on certain nights. Messy not pretty.
Without revealing what happens, just look at the pivotal character. He is a refugee. If caught, he will be deported to his imprisonment or death. An Austrian, he opposed the Nazi take over his country and was put in a concentration camp outside Linz. As usual Maugham gets his details right. After the Anschluss (Annexation) of Austria in 1938, those opposed to the German Reich were sent to Mauthausen (20 kilometres from Linz) where as slave labor they dug granite quarries. Those who survived were then forced to build the concentration camp in which they were kept. Karl was one of them. Karl is also young and handsome. And a woman is feeling, well, how you do on certain nights. Messy not pretty.
May 31, 2020
Four in one: unputdownable story, emotional rollercoaster, alluring Tuscan scenery, ambiguous characters you will not be able to pigeonhole. Full immersion guaranteed. What more can you ask for?! Without further ado, let's meet up at the villa.
Review to come.
Review to come.
April 9, 2024
What makes a good marriage? This story by Maugham loosely explores this question in a quite interesting way.
A short novella by Maugham, one of my favorite authors. I read mostly used books or library books. Whenever I am in a used bookstore I always look to see if there is a book by Maugham that I might have missed. That was how I stumbled on this, one I had never heard of. I started it and set it down till I had the time to sit down and finish its 208 pages in one sitting. Boy am I glad I did.
The story is about a young woman (age early 30's) alone in Florence staying at a friend's villa who is trying to decide if she should marry an older man, a longtime friend of the family that has just been offered a prestigious assignment in India. She knows she does not love this man but the marriage might be exciting with lots of parties to host and a wonderful home to live in with servants to attend to her needs and this man does love and cherish her. He is a most honorable man. But she is young, and still has an inkling that she would miss the romantic in her life. When she is introduced to another man with a reputation for being a lady's man at a dinner party--it seems a predictable set up. I thought I knew where it was going. Boy was I wrong.
While the setup described took the first 25 pages the reminder of the story is nothing I expected and great fun. A bit of a thriller, a bit of mystery and a bit of an examination of how it is we decide what is important to us. A wonderful read for a rainy afternoon.
A short novella by Maugham, one of my favorite authors. I read mostly used books or library books. Whenever I am in a used bookstore I always look to see if there is a book by Maugham that I might have missed. That was how I stumbled on this, one I had never heard of. I started it and set it down till I had the time to sit down and finish its 208 pages in one sitting. Boy am I glad I did.
The story is about a young woman (age early 30's) alone in Florence staying at a friend's villa who is trying to decide if she should marry an older man, a longtime friend of the family that has just been offered a prestigious assignment in India. She knows she does not love this man but the marriage might be exciting with lots of parties to host and a wonderful home to live in with servants to attend to her needs and this man does love and cherish her. He is a most honorable man. But she is young, and still has an inkling that she would miss the romantic in her life. When she is introduced to another man with a reputation for being a lady's man at a dinner party--it seems a predictable set up. I thought I knew where it was going. Boy was I wrong.
While the setup described took the first 25 pages the reminder of the story is nothing I expected and great fun. A bit of a thriller, a bit of mystery and a bit of an examination of how it is we decide what is important to us. A wonderful read for a rainy afternoon.
January 15, 2021
In tonight's episode of Downton Abbey: Mary C and Mary P sit and compare notes. In the drawing room at Downton, while a fire blazes in the hearth.
Well, a man once died in her bed, says Mary C. A Turk. She's an old woman now.
Mary P says the man wasn't in her bed when he died, and he didn't just die. He killed himself. He was a foreigner too. Italian, no not Italian. Austrian. But life goes on. How did she dispose of the body? Surely it's acceptable to talk about now, so many years later, even it still isn't pleasant.
Dispose of the body? The undertaker came and took care of it, says Mary C.
Oh, says Mary P, folding her hands into her lap. Well, perhaps she had better not say any more then.
Well, a man once died in her bed, says Mary C. A Turk. She's an old woman now.
Mary P says the man wasn't in her bed when he died, and he didn't just die. He killed himself. He was a foreigner too. Italian, no not Italian. Austrian. But life goes on. How did she dispose of the body? Surely it's acceptable to talk about now, so many years later, even it still isn't pleasant.
Dispose of the body? The undertaker came and took care of it, says Mary C.
Oh, says Mary P, folding her hands into her lap. Well, perhaps she had better not say any more then.
August 23, 2024
That’s what life’s for – to take risks.
It’s been a year since the young and beautiful Mary Panton has lost her husband to a car accident due to his drunk driving.
Now, she is living in a rented villa near Florence and contemplating her failed marriage.
Failed, because she had impulsively married for love to a man who turned out preferred gambling, getting drunk and resorting to violence to living in domestic bliss.
Love is overrated. Mary had to learn her lesson the hard way. And next time round, if she ever marries, she would marry for position and wealth.
But Mary doesn’t know, that the day a prosperous family friend who is being offered the Governorship of Bengal proposes marriage to her, a single act of kindness on her part will turn to disaster.
That day, a frightful event will happen.
An Event that will change the course of Mary’s life forever.
It’s been a year since the young and beautiful Mary Panton has lost her husband to a car accident due to his drunk driving.
Now, she is living in a rented villa near Florence and contemplating her failed marriage.
Failed, because she had impulsively married for love to a man who turned out preferred gambling, getting drunk and resorting to violence to living in domestic bliss.
Love is overrated. Mary had to learn her lesson the hard way. And next time round, if she ever marries, she would marry for position and wealth.
But Mary doesn’t know, that the day a prosperous family friend who is being offered the Governorship of Bengal proposes marriage to her, a single act of kindness on her part will turn to disaster.
That day, a frightful event will happen.
An Event that will change the course of Mary’s life forever.
July 19, 2021
La verdad es que yo iba esperando una lectura feel good total y creo que eso me chafó un poco la lectura.
Es una novela corta curiosa y entretenida para pasar un rato pero poco más. Tiene un tono extraño, que aunque comienza con cierta ligereza evoluciona hacia el suspense y llegó a incomodarme en algún punto.
La historia gira en torno a una joven viuda guapísima que está pasando una temporada en Florencia y a la que le llueven los pretendientes, pero la aparición de un nuevo personaje en su vida lo cambiará todo.
Como decía, entretenida y curiosa.
Es una novela corta curiosa y entretenida para pasar un rato pero poco más. Tiene un tono extraño, que aunque comienza con cierta ligereza evoluciona hacia el suspense y llegó a incomodarme en algún punto.
La historia gira en torno a una joven viuda guapísima que está pasando una temporada en Florencia y a la que le llueven los pretendientes, pero la aparición de un nuevo personaje en su vida lo cambiará todo.
Como decía, entretenida y curiosa.
May 20, 2022
I first saw this book in a Spanish bookshop and in translation. Some time ago I went on a stint and read most of the novellas set in South-East Asia by Somerset Maugham (1874-1965). Then the blurb said that the villa of the title was in hills around Florence. There was not only no doubt that I was purchasing it, but also that it was going straight up the pile of To-Read books.
And enjoyed it I did. Maugham’s limpid prose, the relaxed pace combined with keeping the reader alert also presented an appealing story with an appealing protagonist and a riveting situation. A woman, still young and beautiful, has however made a mistake in the past. Without any bitterness but with a fair amount of wisdom and assurance, she is ready to face, with an admirable honesty to herself and to others, which way she wants her life to proceed.
Even though this is set in Florence, Maugham’s fascination with the East makes its presence – but in very subdued terms. Even though this is set in Florence, it could have been set in any other place.
The two characteristics that drew me to the book receded to its background. And I still enjoyed the read although I was several times disconcerted because I kept thinking that the novel was set in older times.
Read
June 7, 2022Esta novelita cuenta una historia encantadora y sofisticada… que muy pronto se transforma en un inesperado thriller.
Mary es una joven y hermosa viuda inglesa que descansa en la villa florentina de unos adinerados amigos. Su vida consiste en cócteles en el jardín y cenas en la ciudad, hasta que un día un eminente amigo de la familia, al que conoce desde pequeña, le pide matrimonio. Ella le solicitará un par de días para pensarlo, y en esas pocas horas sucederá un hecho violento que marcará para siempre su vida y su futuro.
«Una villa en Florencia» es una lectura trepidante, sorprendente y muy bien escrita que gustará a los amantes de los libros bien ambientados y llenos de giros inesperados.
Mary es una joven y hermosa viuda inglesa que descansa en la villa florentina de unos adinerados amigos. Su vida consiste en cócteles en el jardín y cenas en la ciudad, hasta que un día un eminente amigo de la familia, al que conoce desde pequeña, le pide matrimonio. Ella le solicitará un par de días para pensarlo, y en esas pocas horas sucederá un hecho violento que marcará para siempre su vida y su futuro.
«Una villa en Florencia» es una lectura trepidante, sorprendente y muy bien escrita que gustará a los amantes de los libros bien ambientados y llenos de giros inesperados.
July 25, 2022
Interesting in any environment, but breathtakingly disturbing to read during a heatwave in Florence!
February 3, 2020
It's a good thing that this was a short book (120 pages) because there was really no story here ar all. I disliked all the characters, especially Mary! Its an utterly forgettable read. Don't waste your time.
August 6, 2025
This is the perfect novella by Maugham, with twists and turns.
Maugham is the consummate storyteller, who knows how to spin a tale and captivate the reader with intriguing characters, witty dialogue, and a resonating plot. He adjusts the mood for a setting or of a character with a minimum display of words.
Maugham is able to depict his characters in a nuanced manner, exhibiting their weaknesses and strengths.
One is captivated by this drama from the very beginning. The reader wants to know the denouement.
Maugham is the consummate storyteller, who knows how to spin a tale and captivate the reader with intriguing characters, witty dialogue, and a resonating plot. He adjusts the mood for a setting or of a character with a minimum display of words.
Maugham is able to depict his characters in a nuanced manner, exhibiting their weaknesses and strengths.
One is captivated by this drama from the very beginning. The reader wants to know the denouement.
May 21, 2016
read here
Opening: The villa stood on the top of a hill. From the terrace in front of it you had a magnificent view of Florence; behind was an old garden, with few flowers, but with fine trees, hedges of cut box, grass walks and an artificial grotto in which water cascaded with a cool, silvery sound from a cornucopia. The house had been built in the sixteenth century by a noble Florentine, whose impoverished descendants had sold it to some English people, and it was they who had lent it for a period to Mary Panton. Though the rooms were large and lofty, it was of no great size and she managed very well with the three servants they had left her. It was somewhat scantily furnished with fine old furniture and it had an air; and though there was no central heating, so that when she had arrived at the end of March it had been still bitterly cold, the Leonards, its owners, had put in bathrooms and it was comfortable enough to live in. It was June now and Mary spent most of the day, when she was at home, on the terrace from which she could see the domes and towers of Florence, or in the garden behind.
"Some of us students protested against the Anschluss. We tried to organise resistance. It was stupid of course. We hadn't a hope. The only result was that two of us were shot and the rest put in a concentration camp. They put me in for six months, but I escaped and crossed the mountains into Italy."
This story had legs... and then it didn't. Who wants a novelette where a refugee's body is left mouldering on a hillside, or a vain, middle-class colonialist bitch gets everything tied up with a bow - oooo, she sure did need a slap.
October 21, 2024
A edição é pobre e feia de dar dó, mas Somerset prova que é tão genial a escrever calhamaços como histórias curtas. Ainda no complexo desenvolvimento psicológico das personagens e nas reviravoltas da história, poucos se lhe podem comparar.
January 29, 2023
"Dont be afraid. The devils a sportsman and he looks after his own"
I really enjoyed this short read from Maugham. My first from this writer and im looking forward to my next.
This story of one womans act and its devastating circumstnaces. It leads to the strange unearthing of feelings and understanding where she least expects.
It is fast paced and a few bits could have been stretched out just a little to make the story a little more padded as its such a great reading experience from maugham.
On the whole a great read and it gave me the feeling of if proust mixed with ibsen. If they sat and thought we could do a little collaboration here lol
I really enjoyed this short read from Maugham. My first from this writer and im looking forward to my next.
This story of one womans act and its devastating circumstnaces. It leads to the strange unearthing of feelings and understanding where she least expects.
It is fast paced and a few bits could have been stretched out just a little to make the story a little more padded as its such a great reading experience from maugham.
On the whole a great read and it gave me the feeling of if proust mixed with ibsen. If they sat and thought we could do a little collaboration here lol
November 5, 2024
Lei,
lui,
l’altro
...e un morto scomodo che risulta l’ago della bilancia della vicenda!
questo in breve il romanzo che Somerset Maugham [1874-1965] ha scritto nel 1941.
Al di là della trama sempre avvincente, Maugham si dimostra scrittore sopraffino, grande scrutatore dell’animo umano con personaggi ben ritagliati e scrittura spedita come un treno lanciato a tutta velocità nella notte che raggiunge la stazione d’arrivo con precisione britannica e così il suo romanzo giunge all’ultima riga con invidiabile aplomb.
lui,
l’altro
...e un morto scomodo che risulta l’ago della bilancia della vicenda!
questo in breve il romanzo che Somerset Maugham [1874-1965] ha scritto nel 1941.
Al di là della trama sempre avvincente, Maugham si dimostra scrittore sopraffino, grande scrutatore dell’animo umano con personaggi ben ritagliati e scrittura spedita come un treno lanciato a tutta velocità nella notte che raggiunge la stazione d’arrivo con precisione britannica e così il suo romanzo giunge all’ultima riga con invidiabile aplomb.
December 29, 2023
this was very fun
read it during the summer when you’re sat in the sun, most of you will finish it in a day
i love love love the dialogue it was gr8
what a fun little thing and a perfect introduction to Maugham
Felt I’m a lot of ways more as if I was reading a film script than a little novella
read it during the summer when you’re sat in the sun, most of you will finish it in a day
i love love love the dialogue it was gr8
what a fun little thing and a perfect introduction to Maugham
Felt I’m a lot of ways more as if I was reading a film script than a little novella
November 26, 2017
The cover of the book that I read.
WILLIAM Somerset Maugham was born in Paris in 1874. He was educated at King’s School, Canterbury and at Heidelberg University, Germany. Later he started practising medicine at St. Thomas’s Hospital. However, the success of his first novel “Liza of Lamberth” (1897)made him decide that he was going to be a writer. Besides writing novels, he soon became reputed for writing dramas and short stories. But his oeuvre did not end here, as Maugham was also a prolific author of travel books, essays and literary criticism. He wrote “Up at the Villa” in 1953.
Somerset Maugham at Villa Mauresque.
The protagonist of "Up at the Villa" is a wealthy young English woman, Mary Leonard, whose life turns upside down when she makes a stupid decision on impulse.
Her father’s prosperous friend, Edgar Swift, who is 25 years older than her, one day asks her to marry him. Mary shows reluctance and postpones her reply for a few days. That same evening while driving into the hills above Florence, she offers a ride to a handsome stranger. Her life changes irrevocably in an instant. Strangers can be good, but then strangers can be evil too!
“Mary drove through the streets of Florence, along the road by which she had come, and then up the hill on the top of which was the villa. About half-way up was a little semi-circular terrace, with a tall, very old cypress and a parapet in front, from which one got a view of the Cathedral and the towers of Florence. Tempted by the beauty of the night Mary stopped the car and got out. The sight that met her eyes, the valley flooded with the full moon, was so lovely that it touched her heart.
“Suddenly she was aware that a man was standing in the shadow of the cypress. She saw the gleam of his cigarette. He came towards her. She was a trifle startled, but had no intention of showing it. He took off his hat.”
Derek Jacobi and Kristin Scott Thomas in a still from the film "Up at the Villa" (2000).
This stranger is a refugee of war; he fosters more than one form of passion. Before dawn, Mary will witness bloodshed. She will be left with no alternative but to seek assistance from a nasty Englishman, Rowley Flint. Soon she will have to face the truth about her own desires.
“Rowley was not a good-looking man. He had a tolerable figure, but he was of average height. He had not a single feature that you could call good: he had white teeth, but they were not very even; he had a fresh colour, but not a very clear skin; he had a good head of hair, but it was between dark and fair; his eyes were large, but they were pallid blue.
“He had an air of dissipation and people who didn't like him said he looked shifty. It was freely admitted that he couldn't be trusted. He had a bad record. When he was twenty he married a girl who was engaged to somebody else, and three years later his wife divorced him. He was not just over thirty. He was in short a young man with a shocking reputation which he deserved.”
Somerset Maugham's villa, 'Mauresque', in St Jean Cap Ferrat, French Riviera. Many of Maugham’s guests at the Villa Mauresque were writers, such as H. G. Wells, Ian Fleming and Evelyn Waugh, but many others achieved their fame in other fields. They included Winston Churchill, the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, Cecil Beaton, press baron Lord Beaverbrook, who lived on nearby Cap d’Ail, musician Arthur Rubenstein, dancer Isadora Duncan and painters Matisse, Picasso and Marc Chagall.
Maugham certainly knows how to build up suspense in Up at the Villa. He skillfully turns the novella into a terrific tale of temptation and the vacillating nature of fate.
The novella is highly recommended for all lovers of good literature. By the way, it is also part of the English Literature course for intermediate level students in several parts of the world.
Kristin Scott Thomas and Anne Bancroft in "Up at the Villa".
August 7, 2021
William Somerset autor de ensayos, novelas y obras de teatro, alcanzó una gran fama en su momento, se convirtió en uno de los escritores mejores pagados de la época. «Al filo de la navaja» y «El velo pintado» son algunos de sus escritos mas populares y llamativos. Cuando vi que @edicionesinvisibles editaría una de sus obras cortas que fue publicada en 1941 supe que tenía que leerla.
Mary Panton, una joven y atractiva viuda, gozando de unas estupendas vacaciones en Florencia, tiene un continuo debate interno sobre cómo encaminar su futuro. Son muchos los pretendientes que muestran interés por casarse con ella, pero tras dejarse llevar por una conducta inocente o quizá inconsciente, nuestra protagonista sufrirá un cambio brusco en la vida, algo que alterará su porvenir y que también la ayudará a saber cuál es su camino.
Que no os cieguen las apariencias, a pesar de que su portada es muy alegre y cualquiera pensaría que contiene una novela agradable y distendida, pero lo que nos encontramos es un libro de suspense. Guarda pequeños fragmentos descriptivos, algún que otro toque romántico pero en general contiene un estilo mucho más oscuro de lo esperado.
Sin duda, lo que más me ha gustado de esta narración es el gran poder expresivo con el que dota el autor las palabras escogidas en el texto, una belleza de prosa que nos muestra mucho más de su capacidad narrativa que quizá por la brevedad de esta nouvelle, no vemos florecer en su máximo esplendor. Aún así sus diálogos son francamente buenos y la historia resulta atractiva.
No me queda más que recomendaros este breve relato, ambientado en un verano italiano, con una protagonista que difiere mucho del estilo establecido y correcto. Quizá se hubiera agradecido un epílogo que nos contará qué sucedió después del desenlace. En general me ha gustado y me ha entretenido pero no ha sido una obra inolvidable.
Mary Panton, una joven y atractiva viuda, gozando de unas estupendas vacaciones en Florencia, tiene un continuo debate interno sobre cómo encaminar su futuro. Son muchos los pretendientes que muestran interés por casarse con ella, pero tras dejarse llevar por una conducta inocente o quizá inconsciente, nuestra protagonista sufrirá un cambio brusco en la vida, algo que alterará su porvenir y que también la ayudará a saber cuál es su camino.
Que no os cieguen las apariencias, a pesar de que su portada es muy alegre y cualquiera pensaría que contiene una novela agradable y distendida, pero lo que nos encontramos es un libro de suspense. Guarda pequeños fragmentos descriptivos, algún que otro toque romántico pero en general contiene un estilo mucho más oscuro de lo esperado.
Sin duda, lo que más me ha gustado de esta narración es el gran poder expresivo con el que dota el autor las palabras escogidas en el texto, una belleza de prosa que nos muestra mucho más de su capacidad narrativa que quizá por la brevedad de esta nouvelle, no vemos florecer en su máximo esplendor. Aún así sus diálogos son francamente buenos y la historia resulta atractiva.
No me queda más que recomendaros este breve relato, ambientado en un verano italiano, con una protagonista que difiere mucho del estilo establecido y correcto. Quizá se hubiera agradecido un epílogo que nos contará qué sucedió después del desenlace. En general me ha gustado y me ha entretenido pero no ha sido una obra inolvidable.
March 11, 2018
This was a fun, slightly silly, and quick read. I really didn’t care for the protagonist, but I liked the story overall. More than anything I loved the atmospheric descriptions of the setting, a villa just outside Florence, Italy, especially the descriptions of the villa at night.
May 12, 2021
48th book of 2021.
Pretty mediocre for Maugham, whom I consider a good writer despite reading recently that Dorothy Parker believed he "couldn't write for toffee"; though, having said this, the writing here is nothing to write home about. An entertaining plot, a novel to kill an hour or two, but nothing more than that. Compared to the other Maugham novels I've read though, this one is weak. Rowley is a good character, but hardly like a Charles Strickland. Perhaps I'll write a fuller review soon, though this one doesn't prompt much deconstruction.
Pretty mediocre for Maugham, whom I consider a good writer despite reading recently that Dorothy Parker believed he "couldn't write for toffee"; though, having said this, the writing here is nothing to write home about. An entertaining plot, a novel to kill an hour or two, but nothing more than that. Compared to the other Maugham novels I've read though, this one is weak. Rowley is a good character, but hardly like a Charles Strickland. Perhaps I'll write a fuller review soon, though this one doesn't prompt much deconstruction.
August 28, 2015
Toward the end of this very short novel, a novella really, just as the posturing and dithering are giving way to the puzzle being solved, I turned a page of the book and a card dropped out. A Lottery ticket, something I'd never buy for myself. As this was a library copy, I thought it was probably safe to assume it was some long-expired specimen used at some point for a bookmark. And if so, used by somebody who had gotten nearly all the way through the novel-- and stopped.
Maugham's Up At The Villa is that rarity among the author's work-- a lightweight, resolutely upbeat summer's day kind of read. Even in his earlier, more adventure-y south-seas days, Mr Maugham was always one to belabor the 'why we must' aspects of his characters' situations, generally falling into chasms of 'we can do no other' after lots of, well, posturing and dithering.
Here the characters don't seem freighted by the anxieties of his other creations, and why should they-- we're on a Brit expat holiday in the heathery, perfumed hills above Florence, where wine and romance flow naturally out of the art-directed rock formations.
"Am I telling you something you don't know when I tell you that I've been head over heels in love with you since you were a kid with bobbed hair?"
What did one say to that? One laughed brightly.
"Oh, Edgar, what nonsense you talk."
Maugham has given in to a little bit of pop-genre plotting on this one, a little bit of mysterioso riding just beneath the placid surface, maybe only to keep the pace going. Surprisingly it's actually a kind of semi-noir James M. Cain (or Ossessione, Visconti's cinematic translation)--spin to the storyline. If that kind of spin can be said to exist at posh dinner parties amidst billowing cloud, cypress branches in shadowplay, and broad vistas of the Mediterranean.
Well, one does with what is found at hand. And what's here is by no means insignificant; judging by how often it happens, the effervescent, in-tune summer romp is harder to pull off effectively than the gloom and doom of other genre outings.
So hop in the Fiat, we'll have a glance round the Uffizi while we're debating where to have luncheon, dawdle over white wine and flirt with whoever shows up. Andiamo!
As for that Lottery ticket, going by the dates printed on the back, it is still valid, unexpired, and if things work out I'll be posting my next Goodreads review from the shores of the blue Mediterranean.
Maugham's Up At The Villa is that rarity among the author's work-- a lightweight, resolutely upbeat summer's day kind of read. Even in his earlier, more adventure-y south-seas days, Mr Maugham was always one to belabor the 'why we must' aspects of his characters' situations, generally falling into chasms of 'we can do no other' after lots of, well, posturing and dithering.
Here the characters don't seem freighted by the anxieties of his other creations, and why should they-- we're on a Brit expat holiday in the heathery, perfumed hills above Florence, where wine and romance flow naturally out of the art-directed rock formations.
"Am I telling you something you don't know when I tell you that I've been head over heels in love with you since you were a kid with bobbed hair?"
What did one say to that? One laughed brightly.
"Oh, Edgar, what nonsense you talk."
Maugham has given in to a little bit of pop-genre plotting on this one, a little bit of mysterioso riding just beneath the placid surface, maybe only to keep the pace going. Surprisingly it's actually a kind of semi-noir James M. Cain (or Ossessione, Visconti's cinematic translation)--spin to the storyline. If that kind of spin can be said to exist at posh dinner parties amidst billowing cloud, cypress branches in shadowplay, and broad vistas of the Mediterranean.
Well, one does with what is found at hand. And what's here is by no means insignificant; judging by how often it happens, the effervescent, in-tune summer romp is harder to pull off effectively than the gloom and doom of other genre outings.
So hop in the Fiat, we'll have a glance round the Uffizi while we're debating where to have luncheon, dawdle over white wine and flirt with whoever shows up. Andiamo!
As for that Lottery ticket, going by the dates printed on the back, it is still valid, unexpired, and if things work out I'll be posting my next Goodreads review from the shores of the blue Mediterranean.
June 5, 2025
Just what I want from a one-sitting read: surprising and satisfying, and in this case with enough suspense to keep the pages turning. When beautiful 30-year-old widow Mary Panton, staying in a villa in the hills overlooking Florence, receives two marriage proposals within the first 33 pages, I worried I was in for a boring, conventional story.
However, things soon get much more interesting. Her suitors are Sir Edgar Swift of the Indian Civil Service, 24 years her senior and just offered a job as the governor of Bengal; and Rowley Flint, a notorious lady's man. Edgar has to go away on business and will ask for her answer when he's back in several days. He leaves her with a revolver to take with her if she goes out in the car. Chekhov's gun? Absolutely. And it'll be up to Mary and Rowley to deal with the consequences.
I'll avoid further details because it's too much fun to discover those for yourself, but will just mention that some intriguing issues get brought in, such as political dissidence in the early days of WWII, charity vs. pity, and the double standard of promiscuity in men vs. women.
Compared to something like Of Human Bondage, sure, this 1941 novella is a minor work, but I found it hugely enjoyable and would recommend it to anyone looking for a short classic or wanting to try Maugham (from here advance to The Painted Veil and The Moon and Sixpence before trying one of the chunksters).
Some plot points are curiously similar to Downton Abbey seasons 1-3, leading me to wonder if this was actually a conscious or unconscious influence on Julian Fellowes. Mostly, though, this reminded me of The Talented Mr. Ripley. It's a deliciously twisted little book where you find yourself rooting for people you might not sympathize with in real life.
And how's this for a last line? "Darling, that's what life's for -- to take risks."
However, things soon get much more interesting. Her suitors are Sir Edgar Swift of the Indian Civil Service, 24 years her senior and just offered a job as the governor of Bengal; and Rowley Flint, a notorious lady's man. Edgar has to go away on business and will ask for her answer when he's back in several days. He leaves her with a revolver to take with her if she goes out in the car. Chekhov's gun? Absolutely. And it'll be up to Mary and Rowley to deal with the consequences.
I'll avoid further details because it's too much fun to discover those for yourself, but will just mention that some intriguing issues get brought in, such as political dissidence in the early days of WWII, charity vs. pity, and the double standard of promiscuity in men vs. women.
Compared to something like Of Human Bondage, sure, this 1941 novella is a minor work, but I found it hugely enjoyable and would recommend it to anyone looking for a short classic or wanting to try Maugham (from here advance to The Painted Veil and The Moon and Sixpence before trying one of the chunksters).
Some plot points are curiously similar to Downton Abbey seasons 1-3, leading me to wonder if this was actually a conscious or unconscious influence on Julian Fellowes. Mostly, though, this reminded me of The Talented Mr. Ripley. It's a deliciously twisted little book where you find yourself rooting for people you might not sympathize with in real life.
And how's this for a last line? "Darling, that's what life's for -- to take risks."
May 18, 2018
Here follows a link to the story free online:http://filippov-mi.narod.ru/W.Somerse...
It doesn't take long to read the story, the time you spend thinking about it afterwards will be much longer.
What is the best match for a marriage? Is life for taking risks or isn't it?
The setting is Florence after 1938. With just a minimum of lines, Florence and four characters, four very different characters become real.
It doesn't take long to read the story, the time you spend thinking about it afterwards will be much longer.
What is the best match for a marriage? Is life for taking risks or isn't it?
The setting is Florence after 1938. With just a minimum of lines, Florence and four characters, four very different characters become real.
July 29, 2021
Una disparatada comedia negra. Creo que es así como hay que considerar este libro para poder disfrutarlo de verdad. Si esperas otra cosa, más bucólica, más profunda o más romántica, es posible que te decepciones.
Somerset Maughan escribe bien y aunque no estamos ante una de sus mejores obras, sí estamos ante un divertimento en el que demuestra que es un hábil narrador. Me lo he pasado muy bien leyéndolo y esa es la razón de que le dé 4 estrellas a pesar de no ser de lo más destacado del autor.
Somerset Maughan escribe bien y aunque no estamos ante una de sus mejores obras, sí estamos ante un divertimento en el que demuestra que es un hábil narrador. Me lo he pasado muy bien leyéndolo y esa es la razón de que le dé 4 estrellas a pesar de no ser de lo más destacado del autor.
March 23, 2023
Quando era partita dall’Inghilterra il vecchio avvocato, che era anche un vecchio amico, le aveva carezzato la mano.
“Ora, mia cara, non hai di che preoccuparti,” le aveva detto “bada solo a rimetterti in forze e in salute. Della tua bellezza non parlo, perché niente la scalfisce. Sei una donna giovane e molto graziosa, e non dubito che ti risposerai. Ma la prossima volta non sposarti per amore, è uno sbaglio; sposati pensando alla posizione e alla compagnia.”
Nei libri di Maugham, attraverso taglienti descrizioni e dialoghi perfetti non mancano mai l’ironia e l’introspezione. E questo breve romanzo non fa eccezione. Qui a finire sotto il suo sguardo è una giovane vedova inglese, Mary Panton. Non le mancano gli spasimanti: chi scegliere tra il maturo amico di famiglia, Sir Edgar Swift, futuro governatore del Bengala, e il giovane Rowley Flint, ricco ma con una pessima reputazione? Se poi nel microcosmo inglese in trasferta a Firenze negli anni Trenta irrompe un profugo austriaco che stravolge i programmi della bella vedova, come uscirne?
Non c’era altro da fare che chiudere gli occhi e tuffarsi nella pece bollente.
“Ora, mia cara, non hai di che preoccuparti,” le aveva detto “bada solo a rimetterti in forze e in salute. Della tua bellezza non parlo, perché niente la scalfisce. Sei una donna giovane e molto graziosa, e non dubito che ti risposerai. Ma la prossima volta non sposarti per amore, è uno sbaglio; sposati pensando alla posizione e alla compagnia.”
Nei libri di Maugham, attraverso taglienti descrizioni e dialoghi perfetti non mancano mai l’ironia e l’introspezione. E questo breve romanzo non fa eccezione. Qui a finire sotto il suo sguardo è una giovane vedova inglese, Mary Panton. Non le mancano gli spasimanti: chi scegliere tra il maturo amico di famiglia, Sir Edgar Swift, futuro governatore del Bengala, e il giovane Rowley Flint, ricco ma con una pessima reputazione? Se poi nel microcosmo inglese in trasferta a Firenze negli anni Trenta irrompe un profugo austriaco che stravolge i programmi della bella vedova, come uscirne?
Non c’era altro da fare che chiudere gli occhi e tuffarsi nella pece bollente.
July 17, 2015
"Tesoro, è per questo che è fatta la vita ...per correre rischi".
Maugham è una conferma. La conferma di essere uno scrittore tra quelli che prediligo.
Questo breve romanzo mi stava deludendo fino alle pagine finali, già pensavo che stavolta Maugham avesse “toppato” con me, quando invece, all’improvviso, arrivata alla fine, mi sono ricreduta.
C’è un topos letterario tanto caro agli anglosassoni, l’ambientazione in una aristocratica villa con uno stupendo giardino che guarda sulla cupola del Duomo di Firenze, abitata da una giovane bellissima donna inglese, Mary, anch’essa aristocratica quanto basta per prendere parte a convivi con nobili e ricchissime signore inglesi, con sottofondo di violini, di cantanti e camerieri italiani (un mondo che lo scrittore conosceva molto bene); c’è una trama che non brilla per originalità, trattandosi, in poche parole, di una donna contesa da due uomini assolutamente diversi tra loro, che la chiedono in moglie quasi contemporaneamente, finchè alla fine si arriverà alla decisione di lei. Ma, nonostante ciò, le riflessioni che la lettura mi ha portato a fare sono così numerose che ho cambiato completamente idea sul romanzo. Sì, ho pensato che le persone non sono mai così come all’apparenza sembrano, ho pensato che grazie a un comportamento sciocco e senza senso, che non ho condiviso e che mi ha immediatamente creato un fastidio verso la protagonista protrattosi fino alla fine, dal quale sorgono responsabilità e conseguenze molto gravi che sembrano invece per lei tranquillamente evitabili ( e questa è stata la parte che ho apprezzato meno della lettura), alla fine può venire alla luce la vera personalità di chi pensiamo di conoscere da anni e invece conosciamo solo in superficie. Ho riflettuto infine sul fatto che essere innamorati di una persona vuol dire abbandonare il proprio orgoglio ed egoismo, vuol dire infonderle fiducia in sé stessa, e soprattutto vuol dire puntare sul rischio, perché l’amore richiede coraggio.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 933 reviews