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The Making of a Saint
The Making of a Saint (1898) was W. Somerset Maugham's second novel. The book enjoyed a good reception and continues to be well reviewed. It remains today, as it was on publication, an intense and highly colored novel of plot and counter-plot, passion and intrigue.
209 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1898
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123 people want to read
About the author
W. Somerset Maugham
2,121 books6,085 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.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
November 9, 2021
Near the end of his career, Somerset Maugham very famously categorized his literary standing as “among the best of the second-raters.” This self-assessment may be apocryphal, developed second-hand by critics who were more than happy to diminish Maugham’s outsized popularity. He published financially successful novels and plays (at one point, he had four hit shows in London, all playing at the same time). In addition, he has had more films made from his work than I can count on four hands, and all of my toes. He made a very good living from his work. However, his popular success did not always translate to critical success. Some critics and novelists were dismissive, while others lauded his work. Regardless of whether the critics concocted the “self-assessment” of being second-rate, or if Maugham truly said it, he truly did assess his work honestly in one of his later autobiographical works (The Summing Up). Here, he presented his relative weaknesses and strengths as he understood them. Some of the things that he claimed at that time were that he had no talent for the florid phrase (“no lyrical quality”), along with “small power of imagination” and “little gift of metaphor.” He did acknowledge that he had a very strong power of observation and an ability to control his narrative to achieve a well-balanced story. Even the critics who dismissed his work granted these things to him. As for his small power of imagination, he claimed to have only written one novel that was completely a work of fiction. This was The Painted Veil (one of my favorites by him). All of the rest were suggested by things he read, or by the stories that he learned by listening to what people told him of their lives.
In his early career, Maugham scored something of a financial success right away, with his first novel. This was (surprise) also a critical success. This was Liza of Lambeth, and it really is a strong first novel. It is a novel solidly in the vein of Naturalism, set in the London slum of Lambeth. I highly recommend it (but it isn’t really a happy story, which is in keeping with Naturalism). Next, wishing to turn to something completely different for his second novel, he wrote The Making of a Saint. Afterwards, he was so badly embarrassed by this book that he refused to allow it to be republished during his life time. I am afraid that I concur with his opinion. Surely this was the novel that taught Maugham his limitations. He said he had no lyrical qualities to his prose. In this novel, he was constantly trying to turn a florid phrase or passage, and was not particularly successful at it. He also said he had small power of imagination. The crux of this novel lies in the passion that one man has for one women during the tergiversations of political intrigue in a medieval Italian city-state. The love scenes do not convince. They lack imagination. The political intrigues work a little better, but could have been greatly expanded upon without damage. The novel is short, just under 200 pages, but I became bored with it and set it aside for about three weeks to go and read something else. When I came back to it, it was only to find that I had taken just enough of a break from it to tolerate it until the end, but not to find it interesting.
BTW: I do not think that Maugham was a second-rater. He was a master storyteller who is far too neglected in our time. This novel, however, does not prove that.
In his early career, Maugham scored something of a financial success right away, with his first novel. This was (surprise) also a critical success. This was Liza of Lambeth, and it really is a strong first novel. It is a novel solidly in the vein of Naturalism, set in the London slum of Lambeth. I highly recommend it (but it isn’t really a happy story, which is in keeping with Naturalism). Next, wishing to turn to something completely different for his second novel, he wrote The Making of a Saint. Afterwards, he was so badly embarrassed by this book that he refused to allow it to be republished during his life time. I am afraid that I concur with his opinion. Surely this was the novel that taught Maugham his limitations. He said he had no lyrical qualities to his prose. In this novel, he was constantly trying to turn a florid phrase or passage, and was not particularly successful at it. He also said he had small power of imagination. The crux of this novel lies in the passion that one man has for one women during the tergiversations of political intrigue in a medieval Italian city-state. The love scenes do not convince. They lack imagination. The political intrigues work a little better, but could have been greatly expanded upon without damage. The novel is short, just under 200 pages, but I became bored with it and set it aside for about three weeks to go and read something else. When I came back to it, it was only to find that I had taken just enough of a break from it to tolerate it until the end, but not to find it interesting.
BTW: I do not think that Maugham was a second-rater. He was a master storyteller who is far too neglected in our time. This novel, however, does not prove that.
February 25, 2014
The foreword explaining the background to the tale contains several veiled barbs as to the state of English 'polite' society. Such as:
'I am painfully aware that the persons of this drama were not actuated by the moral sentiments, which they might have acquired by education at a really good English public school...'
And
'If they sinned, they sinned elegantly, and much may be forgiven to people whose pedigree is above suspicion.'
Maugham was apparently unhappy with this book in later years and perhaps it is because of this rather catty foreword rather than the quality of the tale or its writing. Society certainly took him to its bosom a dozen years later when he was a very successful writer of plays.
'Making of a saint' gives a nice flavour of fifteenth century Italy and with much of Maugham's work it is easy to picture the scenes. Maybe this is because of his ability as a playwright in bringing words to dramatic life. It is a tale of intrigue and assassination typical of the era and although not hugely memorable it is an enjoyable read by a young writer at the beginning of his great career.
'I am painfully aware that the persons of this drama were not actuated by the moral sentiments, which they might have acquired by education at a really good English public school...'
And
'If they sinned, they sinned elegantly, and much may be forgiven to people whose pedigree is above suspicion.'
Maugham was apparently unhappy with this book in later years and perhaps it is because of this rather catty foreword rather than the quality of the tale or its writing. Society certainly took him to its bosom a dozen years later when he was a very successful writer of plays.
'Making of a saint' gives a nice flavour of fifteenth century Italy and with much of Maugham's work it is easy to picture the scenes. Maybe this is because of his ability as a playwright in bringing words to dramatic life. It is a tale of intrigue and assassination typical of the era and although not hugely memorable it is an enjoyable read by a young writer at the beginning of his great career.
February 7, 2018
Kui meeldib 15. sajandi Itaalia õhustik aadlimeeste ja daamide õhkamistega, siis võiks see raamat sobida. Mulle väga ei sobinud.
January 16, 2026
I believe I found this one on a trip to a wonderful used bookstore in Jacksonville. Me and my friends spent hours and hours browsing the shelves, though it did take about an hour for us to start actively looking for things to get rather than gawking. Late into our visit, I had the thought to look up what they had from W. Somerset Maugham, as I loved the two previous novels of his that I read. This one was apparently not looked back on fondly, and while I can understand why, it's not all that bad.
This is medieval romance, in both senses: it's something of an adventure, with scheming aristocrats, rogues and ne'er-do-wells in a small Italian city, and much of the narrative spends time on the relationship between the protagonist and a charming young widow who he becomes obsessed with, to his own detriment. This latter theme also makes up a significant portion of Of Human Bondage; clearly, this man Maugham got hurt deeply.
Reading up a bit on literary criticism of Maugham, it seems he is not, or at least was not for a long time, held in very high regard. Everywhere I look I see references to how he isn't very quotable, that he relies on the cliches of the day, that his prose is plain, direct, and workmanlike. To the first charge, I'll admit that I'm not often struck by beautiful turns of phrase, which perhaps doesn't reflect well on me as a reader. To the second, I simply don't read much early 20th century literature, so I have nothing to compare it to. To the third, it admittedly doesn't strike me as quite so direct, but then my favorite author is probably Elmore Leonard and I gravitate towards novels based on page count. Might be on to something.
I'll admit that here, precious little sticks out. The power struggle between the two factions within this city is basically a nonissue until the last third of the book, and the frivolities the characters occupy themselves with before then aren't particularly interesting. Some of the barbed interactions (particularly from the snarky protagonist) are funny, but it's mostly him just recounting various parties and repetitive arguments. To Maugham's credits, it's still an easy read, there's enough wit to keep these machinations from being dull, but it does feel a bit shallow.
The relationship between the young man narrating the story and the woman he falls for is perhaps the best part of the narrative proper, but also the worst. It is true that their affection for one another does happen rather suddenly, and she's given precious little definition to make the reader feel any particular way about her. It also could be said that the novel has a very dim view of women in general and this woman in particular; either Maugham was a man of his time and harbored a misogynist streak, or he knew his audience and wrote to placate their prejudices.
That being said... I came to Of Human Bondage when I was getting over a girl I had fallen hard for, and all the stuff with Mildred was like getting hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. Since then, we got together, then broke up, and even though it's been almost a year since I last saw her, I'll admit that reading about this man grappling with his feelings of anger, despair, and shame all ring as true now as the day we broke up. There's a part where he thinks to himself something to the effect of he knew that she didn't love him like he loved her, but he could handle that as long as she had allowed him to love her. Realizing that the person who matters the world to you sees you as an annoyance, or a burden, or whatever runs through their mind when you say, "I love you"... cuts deep. Maybe we should give Maugham more credit. Or maybe that subject is always going to resonate for me.
Honestly, the most interesting part of this novel are the bookends. At the beginning is the framing device, where a descendant of the medieval aristocrat relates how he came upon his ancestor's memoir, who later become a monk, and how he decided to publish the most exciting part of his diary as a book. Here, Maugham delivers some swipes at his contemporary audience, about how this section flatters the sensibilities of the upwardly mobile gentleman who thinks little of the plight of everyday people, and concerns themselves with meaningless affairs that celebrate their own class status. Certainly adds some texture to the story that follows. Meanwhile, the book ends with the swashbuckling adventurer as an old man, deeply unhappy with the life he's led, still pining for the love he had that would never reciprocate. Such a grim finale stands at odds with what came before, but it's the most emotionally complex the novel gets.
... I really hope that won't be me.
This is medieval romance, in both senses: it's something of an adventure, with scheming aristocrats, rogues and ne'er-do-wells in a small Italian city, and much of the narrative spends time on the relationship between the protagonist and a charming young widow who he becomes obsessed with, to his own detriment. This latter theme also makes up a significant portion of Of Human Bondage; clearly, this man Maugham got hurt deeply.
Reading up a bit on literary criticism of Maugham, it seems he is not, or at least was not for a long time, held in very high regard. Everywhere I look I see references to how he isn't very quotable, that he relies on the cliches of the day, that his prose is plain, direct, and workmanlike. To the first charge, I'll admit that I'm not often struck by beautiful turns of phrase, which perhaps doesn't reflect well on me as a reader. To the second, I simply don't read much early 20th century literature, so I have nothing to compare it to. To the third, it admittedly doesn't strike me as quite so direct, but then my favorite author is probably Elmore Leonard and I gravitate towards novels based on page count. Might be on to something.
I'll admit that here, precious little sticks out. The power struggle between the two factions within this city is basically a nonissue until the last third of the book, and the frivolities the characters occupy themselves with before then aren't particularly interesting. Some of the barbed interactions (particularly from the snarky protagonist) are funny, but it's mostly him just recounting various parties and repetitive arguments. To Maugham's credits, it's still an easy read, there's enough wit to keep these machinations from being dull, but it does feel a bit shallow.
The relationship between the young man narrating the story and the woman he falls for is perhaps the best part of the narrative proper, but also the worst. It is true that their affection for one another does happen rather suddenly, and she's given precious little definition to make the reader feel any particular way about her. It also could be said that the novel has a very dim view of women in general and this woman in particular; either Maugham was a man of his time and harbored a misogynist streak, or he knew his audience and wrote to placate their prejudices.
That being said... I came to Of Human Bondage when I was getting over a girl I had fallen hard for, and all the stuff with Mildred was like getting hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. Since then, we got together, then broke up, and even though it's been almost a year since I last saw her, I'll admit that reading about this man grappling with his feelings of anger, despair, and shame all ring as true now as the day we broke up. There's a part where he thinks to himself something to the effect of he knew that she didn't love him like he loved her, but he could handle that as long as she had allowed him to love her. Realizing that the person who matters the world to you sees you as an annoyance, or a burden, or whatever runs through their mind when you say, "I love you"... cuts deep. Maybe we should give Maugham more credit. Or maybe that subject is always going to resonate for me.
Honestly, the most interesting part of this novel are the bookends. At the beginning is the framing device, where a descendant of the medieval aristocrat relates how he came upon his ancestor's memoir, who later become a monk, and how he decided to publish the most exciting part of his diary as a book. Here, Maugham delivers some swipes at his contemporary audience, about how this section flatters the sensibilities of the upwardly mobile gentleman who thinks little of the plight of everyday people, and concerns themselves with meaningless affairs that celebrate their own class status. Certainly adds some texture to the story that follows. Meanwhile, the book ends with the swashbuckling adventurer as an old man, deeply unhappy with the life he's led, still pining for the love he had that would never reciprocate. Such a grim finale stands at odds with what came before, but it's the most emotionally complex the novel gets.
... I really hope that won't be me.
March 10, 2025
🖊 Ugh! The Making Of A Saint: A Romance Of Mediaeval Italy was not going anywhere by the time I started the third chapter, so out it went. This book solidified my opinion that the confused Maugham is not my kind of writer.
📕Published — 1898. In the public domain.
જ⁀ 🍋 Read on Project Gutenberg.
જ⁀🍇 Kindle.
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📕Published — 1898. In the public domain.
જ⁀ 🍋 Read on Project Gutenberg.
જ⁀🍇 Kindle.
༻ ༺ ༅ ✬ ༅ ༻ ༺ ༅ ✬ ༅ ༻༺ ༅ ✬ ༅ ༻ ༺
35%
February 13, 2024
Play type read which was not equivalent to his earlier long works. Set into the 15th century- this was sharp at certain points in retorts but overall didn't play out well in plotting or in cognition of that time. Just my opinion. He was too much of his own period, IMHO.
February 1, 2016
3.5 Very good piece of historical fiction set in the 15th century Italy. Sort of a swashbuckling story with romance and someone to root for. Unfortunately no one comes out unscathed.
October 3, 2017
Set in 1488 Italy, this is a tale of politics, love and adventure. An interesting read while in Italy.
November 26, 2017
Nothing too special about the story
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews