William Somerset Maugham was 45 years old when he went on a trip to China in the winter of 1919. Always an astute observer, he jotted down notes, elaborated them, and finally had them published as a book in London. Fortunately, this small volume is now available again as a Vintage Classics paperback in the UK (and in the reviewer's favorite Shanghai bookstore). "On a Chinese Screen" is an appropriate title for the book because it depicts mostly English people against the backdrop of China at the beginning of the century. In 58 short sketches, the longest of which fits on just nine printed pages, Maugham portrays English missionaries, officials, army officers, adventurers and company managers. Maugham gently mocks their narrow-mindedness and indifference towards the country in which they spend a major part of their lives. "On the whole," he remarks, "it made little difference to them in what capital they found themselves, for they did precisely the same things in Constantinople, Berne, Stockholm, and Peking . . . China bored them all, they did not want to speak of that; they only knew just so much about it as was necessary to their business." Their attitude towards the Chinese was one of "mistrust and dislike tempered by optimism," and they did not bother to learn the language.

Whereas Maugham is agreeably malicious in his portraits of the English and their wives, he can get outright scathing and sarcastic when he describes the hypocrisy of protestant missionaries. The Catholics have a better standing with him, which explains why Graham Greene calls Maugham a writer of great dedication. Maugham has a healthy disregard of professedly religious people whose deeds do not live up to their words, no matter whether they are English missionaries who behave as if they were in the civil service or whether they are Chinese farmers who perform the rites "like an old peasant woman in France does her day's housekeeping." Maugham's depiction of the Chinese countryside leaves no lasting impression, yet sometimes he creates images of sheer beauty: "the yellow water in the setting sun was lovely with pale, soft tints, it was as smooth as glass." The focus of his observations are people. Maugham senses the human beings who peek out from behind the roles they play in the scheme of the British Empire. Though he appears to be detached from the hardships of the Chinese, one can feel the effort it takes him to stay aloof when he observes the coolies, the "human beasts of burden", and remarks that their "effort oppresses you. You are filled with a useless compassion." Maugham's most heart-wrenching piece is a story with the innocent title "The Sights of the Town" in which he tells of a so-called baby tower used by the peasants to drop unwanted babies to their deaths. Spanish nuns in the nearby town try to save at least some of the unwanted newborns by paying twenty cents for every one because, as they say, the peasants "have often a long walk to come here and unless we give them something they won't take the trouble."

Maugham, as skeptic and acerbic as he can be, also has a great sense of humor, freshness of observation and unconventionality of comparison. Summing up his impression of an opium den, he writes it reminded him "somewhat of the little intimate beerhouses in Berlin where the tired working man could go in the evening and spend an peaceful hour." Well, I would not compare opium so non-chalantly to beer but his tongue-in-cheek British snobbery is definitely enjoyable. As is his mockingly spiteful aside towards Americans whom he regards to be such extremely practical people "that Harvard is instituting a chair to instruct grandmothers how to suck eggs." My favorite funny piece in the book is Maugham's explanation why democracy gets flushed down by the Western sense of cleanliness. In his words, "it is a tragic thought that the first man who pulled the plug of a water-closet with that negligent gesture rang the knell of democracy." Just check it out. Even if he were not kidding, it would be a side-splitting theory.

Some of the things Maugham observed eighty years ago still apply. For example, "one of the peculiarities of China is that your position excuses your idiosyncrasies." And you can still see people getting their heads shaved on the sidewalk by old barbers. However, I can not report that "others have their ears cleaned, and some, a revolting spectacle, the inside of their eyelids scraped." In general, the life of the Chinese was as impenetrable to Maugham as were the Chinese houses with their monotonous expanse of wall broken only by solid closed doors. Only in the portraits of an old Chinese philosopher (who impotently dreams of the old and better China) and a young drama professor (who lacks any broader vision of China) we get a glimpse of the inner lives of the Chinese.

The back cover of the Vintage Classics paperback edition shows a photo of the middle-aged Maugham. Turning his head to the observer, he has a look of weary curiosity in his eyes and a tiny smile in the corners of his mouth - as if he wanted to say, "that is how it is. What do you think?"

I felt this book was interesting and useful in my research concerning the life and work of W. Somerset Maugham. Robin, Somerset's nephew, adds interesting insights into the life and heritage of the Maughams. The book is mainly about Somerset Maughams as well as a genelogy of the Maughams.

"Liza of Lambeth," Maugham's literary debut, is a less accomplished and complex novel than later masterpieces such as "The Razor's Edge" and "The Moon and Sixpence." Nevertheless, this novel is well worth the read. It chronicles Liza, a young woman who lives in a lower class London neighborhood. She struggles as she works in a factory and helps her alcoholic mother. Despite the rather grim setting, the characters are suprisingly full of life and humor. Liza is a bit of a social butterfly in the neighborhood and is well-liked until she garners the attention of a married man. This connection grows with tragic consequences. There is little sentimentality in the novel, and Maugham was apparently inspired by his work as a medical student in the London slums. Overall, a quick read and a good character study of a young, head-strong woman in late 19th century London.

The story plot is nothing extraordinary, nor are the characaters unique, but what sets this short novel apart from the rest is the vivid picture that Maugham creates of the lower section of the London society. The story flows freely with a lucid style of writing, arresting the reader's attention from the first pages to the last, and touches a chord in the reader's heart somewhere deep, all along the way. Definitely a work of class, more so, it was Maugham's first novel. The old adage 'morning shows the day' aptly describes what the writer achieves in this work and the masterpieces that follow (Of Human Bondage, The Moon and the Sixpence, The Razor's Edge, etc.).

This was Maugham's first published work which appeared 102 years ago. Maugham had just graduated from medical school almost the day the book was published and the modest success and good reviews convinced him to dedicate his life to a career of letters. The story takes place in the Lambeth section of London and is baised of his internship and residence at St. Thomas Hospital where he was required to call on the lower classes in the most dangerous section of town. Later in his life he joked about being a Midwife in his youth and delivering over a hundered babies for the poor. Maugham was influenced by "Sister Carrie" and "Mean Streets." and other books in the realistic tradition of the day. It is a rather short book and is written in the Cockney dialect of conversation like Dickens "Hard Times." It is well worth reading and a must for any Maugham fan.

This scholarly history of the Hudsons' Bay Company focuses on the company in the years 1821-1843, immediately after its merger with the North West Company. Richard Mackie's thorough research attends closely to journals and correspondence of HBC employees. George Simpson, appointed Governor of the Columbia division by the company's London-based directors, is featured. Simpson was a prototype for the CEOs we now take for granted: ruthless, arrogant, at times heartless, he rationalized company operations, reduced labor costs, developed new products and markets, closed unprofitable divisions, and so on. Mackie takes a benign, at times almost adoring, view of Simpson's actions. The book becomes a paean to the "great men" of the HBC. It is more about Simpson and his fellows than about "the fur trade." The book is diligently researched, and noteworthy for Eric Leinberger's splendid cartography. It is written in clear, straightforward prose. Lacking from the book -- and here's where it loses marks for me -- is any reflection on what the HBC's actions during the early part of the nineteenth century mean now, at the end of the twentieth century. Also missing is any sustained attention to how the HBC's expansion in this area affected the Native populations. This is capital "H" history. Trading Beyond the Mountains will appeal to those interested in "Canada's first corporate merger."

I wanted to like this book. I just finished the Dudley Warner Book, in the same classic gardening series, which I had savored like a good box of chocolates, rationing out a few pages, each day. But this one--oddly enough--depressed me slightly. It has a sad subplot. You have this stiff upper lip British Matron, who was married to Walter, who oppressed every good idea she had for their garden. She basically isn't able to implement her visions until he dies. But once he's dead you realize, in her humerous complaints, that she misses him. The rest is all gardening, without the breathtaking observations Charles Dudley Warner has, about plants, and without the richness of his language. Fish is an OK writer, but she's not great. I guess Charles Dudley Warner is an impossible act to follow. Warner has one chapter where General Ulysses Grant visits, then he realizes he must burn the chair he sat in. He's unbelievably funny. That book is full of life and a grand vision. Fish's book is somehow claustrophobic. Reading Warner's book, I feel like I'm in a most interesting place filled with surprises, in Fish's book I feel like I'm trapped in a garden, I'd rather exit. I've read about half of her book, and you'd have to pay me to finish it. I frown when I see it on the pile of books behind my comode.

WE MADE A GARDEN is a lovely little book by Margery Fish, an "elderly" English lady who with her husband (he who must be obeyed or cleverly deceived it seems) moved to a country manor and converted the mostly lawn areas into gardens of shrubs, flowers, and herbs. First published in the U.K. in the 1950s, the book has been republished as part of the 'Modern Library Garden Series' edited by Michael Pollan.

Fish's little book will be considered a gem by experienced gardeners who can picture the plants she names in the mind's eye, identify with her triumphs and failures, and appreciate a useful clues from an obviously seasoned hand. Garden veterans will also identify with the greedy gardener who never has enough space, the stubborn gardener who plants Nepeta despite it's runaway habits, the recalcitrant gardener who hides the verboten brilliant orange Lychnis chalcedonica at the back of the beds, and the disobedient gardener who leaves many openings in the cemented walkway hubby designed to thwart weeds.

The book may appear a bit dense to the new gardener as it describes activities such as composing flower beds, creating walkways, and engineering rock gardens with inferior rocks,with no illustrations, other than a few black and white photos-one of Mrs Fish on bended knee at work in her rock garden. However, all is not lost. Determined gardeners unfamiliar with the various plants Mrs Fish names can refer to a nursery catalogue since 60-70 percent of the plants available in the 1950s can be found contemporary mail order publications

This short tale is deceptively complex, holding the reader'sattention to the very end. Mystery fans will find it a true brainteaser, full of plot twists, eccentric characters, and of course, Sherlock Holme's flawless detecting skills. An old friend beckons Sherlock Holmes to East Quantock in the West Country in England to investigate a horseback riding accident involving Andrew Hewitt, his niece's fiancé. The youngest son of Colonel Lawrence Hewitt, Andrew is the family black sheep, the only son uninterested in making money or joining the military. Andrew is set to marry Jane, the Colonel's niece. Inexplicable mishaps have befallen Andrew throughout his entire life, whenever he dared defy the Colonel's plans. Now, it appears that the stirrup on Andrew's saddle was cut, causing him to tumble from his horse while hunting with his father and two brothers. Oddly, no trace of the stirrup's remnants can be found at the accident scene. Coincidentally, Jane has received an anonymous note trying to scare her off the marriage and back to London. Jane engages Holmes and Watson to find out: Who is trying to kill Andrew? Who is trying to prevent their marriage? Why would anyone go to this trouble? What is really at stake? Step by step, Holmes' uncanny powers of deduction unravel the mishap. In getting to the bottom of Andrew's fall, Holmes and Watson encounter a far more intriguing mystery: What caused the disappearance of family matriarch Bess Hewitt three years ago? Each character has a different theory. Sons Ned and Laurence feel she abandoned the family to be with a secret lover; Andrew fears that she is dead, probably murdered. Meanwhile, Colonel Hewitt's apparent stoicism about his wife's disappearance makes him a prime suspect. Who done it? Colonel Hewitt, the cold and forbidding husband? Laurence, the materialistic eldest son? Ned, the manipulative middle son? Andrew, the seemingly naive youngest son? Or, someone else? The reader, like the Hewitt family, remains in the dark until the very end. Not so, Sherlock Holmes, who pieces together innocuous details to reveal the killer and prevent the nefarious assailant from killing again. Suddenly, Holmes's superior powers of deductive reasoning make this puzzle seem "very elementary" after all.

Maugham writes a historical fiction story set in the early 1500's in Italy. He uses Renaissance-era politician / writer Machiavelli as his main character. Machiavelli is sent from Florence as an ambassador to a warlike Duke. While working there he is in the middle of danger as the arious states of Italy war with each other.

However, aside from his dispensing his political wisdom, Machiavelli falls in love with the Duke's highest man's wife. Maugham has painted Machiavelli as a man loyal to Florence but who is not immune to the pleasures of the flesh. Machiavelli uses suberterfuge and cunning to attempt to win the woman into bed. However, things don't work out exactly as he had hoped and his situation winds up to be a comedy.

This is a colorful book and certainly different from many I've read. I wasn't familiar with Italian Renaissance history (other than a cursory knowledge) and it hindered me. At times it was a bit hard to follow. Machiavelli does have some words of wisdom, probably coming from his "The Prince" book that is still read today. He struck me as a licentious Confuscious. Maugham has strong writing skills however I think the background and political confusion turned me off. Maugham title comes from the fact that corruption, affairs, and such occurred back then as they do today.