"The Painted Veil" by Somerset Maugham is a novel published in 1925 that tells the story of Kitty, a young socialite, who marries Walter Fane out of social pressure and a desire to escape her overbearing mother. Fane is infatuated with Kitty and blind to her indifference. He works in Hong Kong as a bacteriologist, and Kitty finds herself in a loveless marriage, lonely and bored, and far away from the distraction of London’s social whirl. She starts an affair with a married diplomat, Charles Townsend, but Walter discovers the infidelity. He offers her two choices: to divorce him and marry Townsend, or to accompany him to a remote village in mainland China that is suffering from a cholera epidemic where hundreds are dying. Kitty quickly finds this is no real choice; there will be no divorce and she has to go to the village.
It is here that Kitty begins to confront her own flaws and starts to develop a sense of empathy and compassion for others. Walter sees the changes in his wife and their relationship begins to thaw. But Maugham does not allow any happily-ever-after ending, instead he plays out the complexities of Kitty’s life to the end of the book with an uncertain future before her.
One of the strengths of the novel is its exploration of the complex nature of love. Kitty's initial attraction to Townsend is based on shallow and selfish desires, but as she spends more time with Walter, she comes to understand his love for her, not romanticized, but instead shown as a complicated mix of devotion, jealousy, and a desire for control. Maugham portrays their relationship in a nuanced way that is both realistic and emotionally charged.
Although set in a bygone era, "The Painted Veil" is a compelling novel that offers a thought-provoking exploration of human relationships and the possibility of redemption. Its timeless themes of personal growth, self-discovery, and the transformative power of love make for a very satisfying read.
Lift Not the Painted Veil
Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,
And it but mimic all we would believe
With colours idly spread,-behind, lurk Fear
And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave
Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew one who had lifted it-he sought,
For his lost heart was tender, things to love,
But found them not, alas! nor was there aught
The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move,
A splendour among shadows, a bright blot
Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove
For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
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