Of Human Bondage

It took me two years to get through the first fifty pages Of Human Bondage, but only two days for the last 400. Maugham’s work is strikingly beautiful and poignant.

Of Human Bondage moved me so much that I almost regret not reading it the day I got it. It’s uncanny how much of my life mirrors that of Philip’s; I also struggled with my Christian faith, and came to the conclusion that God isn’t real. Much like Philip, I ascribed this “enlightenment” to my intelligence, though Maugham suggests the conclusion had been settled by our temperament.

Philip and I were “embarrassed by the weakness of human nature” and full of contempt for humanity. We also began to believe that life is meaningless. The realization set us free — we were exhilarated at the thought of being our own masters. It also made us miserable, and left us unable to choose anything at all.

As I neared the end of the novel, I started to wonder what would have happened if I had read this work a few years earlier. Could I have skipped out on the plethora of painful moments my naivete got me into? Philip and I made many of the same mistakes, and came out with similar beliefs. If I lived through him, could I have learned the necessary lessons without hurting myself and others? Lo and behold, the answer to my counterfactual was already in the book. Philip remarks, “I daresay one profits more by the mistakes one makes off one’s own bat than by doing the right thing on somebody else’s advice.”