I don't presume to be a writer on the same level or of the same quality as W. Somerset Maugham, one of the greatest English authors of the twentieth century. I don't claim to hold all of his views or admire all of his ideas. However when I came across this passage in one of his greatest novels, (though one of his most depressing and satirical,) "Cakes and Ale", its profundity and truth gave me cause to stop reading and contemplate it for a few moments."She embarked upon a conversation which, I gathered from her tone, was of a facetious and even flirtatious character. I did not pay much attention, and since it seemed to prolong itself, I began to meditate upon the writer's life. It is full of tribulation. First he must endure poverty and the world's indifference; then, having achieved a measure of success, he must submit with a good grace to its hazards. He depends upon a fickle public. He is at the mercy of journalists who want to interview him... of editors who harry him for copy... of persons of quality who ask him to lunch and secretaries of institutes who ask him to lecture, of women who want to marry him and women who want to divorce him, of youths who want his autograph... of agents, publishers, managers, bores, admirers, critics and his own conscience. But he has one compensation. Whenever he has anything on his mind, whether it be a harassing reflection, grief at the death of a friend, unrequited love, wounded pride, anger at the treachery of someone to whom he has shown kindness, in short any emotion or any perplexing thought, he has only to put it down in black and white, using it as the theme of a story or the decoration of an essay, to forget all about it. He is the only free man."
I am not sure if any English professors or literary analysts would agree with me, but to my mind this idea as Maugham expresses it here actually encapsulates the whole of this particular work. "Cakes and Ale" satirizes the social and personal lives of authors in twentieth century England through the characters of Alroy Kear, William Ashenden, Edward and Rosie Driffield. The long-suffering author Edward Driffield is forced to put up with the antics of his coarse and wayward wife Rosie as she flouts the conventions of the times and carries on affairs with all of his friends, including Ashenden. Maugham leads one to believe that Edward has no idea of what is going on, and indeed, not even Rosie suspects that Edward is aware of her behavior until the very end after she has run away with another man. Edward then publishes a book in which the heroine, obviously Rosie, is unfaithful to her husband in his time of deepest need, describing her actions with the greatest of detail. This leaves Rosie to wonder in the end how much her husband really knew, and moreover, why he never gave any indication of his knowledge. Driffield offers no explanation, and Rosie, leaving the past behind and moving on with life, remains untroubled by too much speculation. But the answer is given to us the readers by the narrator Ashenden in the passage above.
Driffield was, in every sense of the term, an author. His refuge was his writing. He was "the only free man", because no matter what happened to him, it could go down in black and white and he would be untroubled by it forever after. Friends could disappoint and betray him - his wife could run away with another man - his child could die - he would pay heavily the price of fame. And yet none of this could ever inhibit his one true gift, nor quench his one true passion - it could only fuel it and enhance its quality. This is why Maugham describes the author as "the only free man."
This led me to reflect upon the real true freedom of writing. I have never had to pay the price of fame, and I hope that I never will. Yet in some small measure I can understand what Maugham meant when he said that the writer has one compensation, because the most significant freedoms of the writer are his freedoms of thought and expression, and these are the liberties that are the most precious and the most useful to him. They are also the most precious and useful to those around him privileged to share in his thoughts. A truly gifted author stands above the common folk only because he has found a way to express thoughts and experiences that everyone has in an eloquent, poignant, and unique way - he has a voice that people want to listen to. This is his liberty - that when he encounters life's pitfalls he is merely given more words for that voice.
Some people express themselves through music - some through their clothing - some through their speech. Most of us express ourselves partly through all of these things. But the author is unique. He expresses himself by taking to pen and paper (or nowadays, to Microsoft Word) and literally expressing his opinions, his thoughts, his experiences, and his ideas to the world. Sometimes the world listens. Sometimes it doesn't. It really shouldn't matter. The writer writes because he loves writing for its own sake, because it is a sweet freedom to him, as essential to him as food.
But don't envy the writer this unique freedom, for it comes at a heavy cost, as Maugham expresses above, a cost that includes "persons of quality who ask him to lunch, and secretaries of institutes who ask him to lecture, women who want to marry him and women who want to divorce him, of youths who want his autograph..." Only an author can understand the longing to express life's turmoil in order to be free of it; only a gifted writer can live contently in his rich inner world while the rest of mankind tumbles head over heels attempting to make sense of life. The author's refuge enables him to analyze what has gone wrong - and if not fully understand, at least relocate it to a solid black-and-white place where it can bother him no longer. When I think about the unique refuge the writer has in his writing, I realize that indeed, the writer is as Maugham claims - "the only free man."
