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davesag's review against another edition
5.0
Written with a wit as dry as toast. This is charming and funny in a sly way. Loved it.
amerynth's review against another edition
3.0
W. Somerset Maugham's novel "Cakes and Ale" is a fun little read.
It's the story of man who is asked to write a biography of a recently deceased author he was acquainted with in his youth. The author was married twice -- to the pretty, vivacious but unfaithful Rosalie, and later, to a much more business-like woman, Amy, who was careful to preserve her late husband's legacy.
It's a fairly simple story, but flows along smoothly and made for a quick, fun read.
It's the story of man who is asked to write a biography of a recently deceased author he was acquainted with in his youth. The author was married twice -- to the pretty, vivacious but unfaithful Rosalie, and later, to a much more business-like woman, Amy, who was careful to preserve her late husband's legacy.
It's a fairly simple story, but flows along smoothly and made for a quick, fun read.
tlaloq's review against another edition
2.0
I liked this a lot better than Magnificent Obsession, but not nearly as much as The Razor's Edge. It may well be literary criticism, but I am not well enough informed to recognize the literature it addresses. It is engaging enough, but I can't recommend it without reservation.
antonymo's review against another edition
4.0
this story, told engagingly from maugham's own perspective, may or may not be about thomas hardy's life before he became famous. whether or not it's a true retelling is besides the point, as the pleasure of reading it comes from the genuine affection maugham (or his narrator anyway) feels for the woman at the center of the story.
apechild's review against another edition
3.0
It did take me a little while to get into this, but when I got going, I found it very engrossing. I think the problem for me at the beginning was that I wasn't sure where it was going; and also I found the snobbery and attitudes of the old class system very infuriating and tiring. I wasn't sure that I wanted to read a book where everyone was going to continue as though these attitudes were perfectly just. But then the story got going.
It's narrated by a fifty something English writing, William Ashenden was it, and through talking with a popular (but perhaps bland) writer Alroy whatever his name was, who wants to write a book about the deceased writer Edward Driffield; Ashenden goes through his own memories and experiences with Driffield. He knew him when he was a teenager staying with his aunt and uncle (unimaginative snobs) - he never explained what had happened with his parents either - was he an orphan? and spent summer holiday/Christmas holiday etc with Edward Driffield and his first wife, Rosie Driffield; whom everyone looked down their nose at in retrospect as she had worked as a barmaid once and was a bit promiscious. He then knew them again for a couple of years in London when he was in his early twenties as a medical student. But his memories are as much about Rosie as they are about Edward.
It's curious the way a lot of them had inklings about his marriage with the first wife, how it was awfully common, all the wife's fault, and it was probably best not to go into too much detail in the biography that Alroy is going to write because people don't want to be upset by such ideas of Driffield. The reading public have created a persona of him, and the truth doesn't really matter - in fact they don't really want to know. His second wife really perpetuated this - steadily getting rid of all his furniture, his writing desk etc from the house and replacing them with items she thought more fitting for a writer of his reputation. I can't say I liked his second wife at all; she was married to the idea of the writer rather than the man, and was preparing for his passing and how she'd be the guardian of his literary memory from from the word go. And yet everyone thinks she was the better wife.
I suppose in a way it's a bit of a coming of age story for the narrator, as this is happening during his teens and his twenties. He starts off completely formed by the snobbish attitudes of his relations, but gradually is forced to question these attitudes as he gets to know the Driffields; then in growing up learns more about relationships, sex, marriage and how complicated these things can get. And it was so sad how in the end Driffield seemed to be surrounded by people who weren't interested in who he really was, and were so keen to mould him into what they thought he was. It makes the earlier scenes when he was living with his first wife so much more cosy. And the time when he'd written his best works.
It's narrated by a fifty something English writing, William Ashenden was it, and through talking with a popular (but perhaps bland) writer Alroy whatever his name was, who wants to write a book about the deceased writer Edward Driffield; Ashenden goes through his own memories and experiences with Driffield. He knew him when he was a teenager staying with his aunt and uncle (unimaginative snobs) - he never explained what had happened with his parents either - was he an orphan? and spent summer holiday/Christmas holiday etc with Edward Driffield and his first wife, Rosie Driffield; whom everyone looked down their nose at in retrospect as she had worked as a barmaid once and was a bit promiscious. He then knew them again for a couple of years in London when he was in his early twenties as a medical student. But his memories are as much about Rosie as they are about Edward.
It's curious the way a lot of them had inklings about his marriage with the first wife, how it was awfully common, all the wife's fault, and it was probably best not to go into too much detail in the biography that Alroy is going to write because people don't want to be upset by such ideas of Driffield. The reading public have created a persona of him, and the truth doesn't really matter - in fact they don't really want to know. His second wife really perpetuated this - steadily getting rid of all his furniture, his writing desk etc from the house and replacing them with items she thought more fitting for a writer of his reputation. I can't say I liked his second wife at all; she was married to the idea of the writer rather than the man, and was preparing for his passing and how she'd be the guardian of his literary memory from from the word go. And yet everyone thinks she was the better wife.
I suppose in a way it's a bit of a coming of age story for the narrator, as this is happening during his teens and his twenties. He starts off completely formed by the snobbish attitudes of his relations, but gradually is forced to question these attitudes as he gets to know the Driffields; then in growing up learns more about relationships, sex, marriage and how complicated these things can get. And it was so sad how in the end Driffield seemed to be surrounded by people who weren't interested in who he really was, and were so keen to mould him into what they thought he was. It makes the earlier scenes when he was living with his first wife so much more cosy. And the time when he'd written his best works.
squid_vicious's review against another edition
4.0
Maugham has become a comfort read for me over the past few years. I discovered him first through “The Painted Veil” and fell in love completely with “Of Human Bondage”. I didn’t expect “Cakes and Ale” to have the same impact on me as Philip Carey’s story did, but I needed something beautifully written and witty that would take me out of this stressful November week, and this was just the ticket.
I would struggle to explain what this story is about. Is it about William Ashenden’s memories, or about the lovely, lively Rosie Driffield’s impact on both him and her husband, celebrated author Edward Driffield? Is it about the way social conventions stifle people, about the horrible pretensions of the artistic sets, the hypocrisy and ambition that runs through both social strata? The way what inspires us is not always what’s proper but it is always beautiful to us? Is it a metaphor for the life Maugham was himself not quite allowed to live?
The framing device alone almost sounds like a (very English) joke: this is the story of a mediocre writer commissioned to write a book about an illustrious writer, who seeks help from another writer to gather his recollection of the early years of the aforementioned celebrated writer. The problem is that this commission comes from the author’s second, and respectable, wife – who is adamant there should be no mention of her late-husband’s first wife in this biography. But how do you write the life of an artist and erase his muse from it entirely?
I think that like most of the characters, I fell maybe not in love, but definitely in awe of Rosie, who walks that strange line of child-like innocence and enjoyment of things not considered quite proper. There is something about the way Maugham writes her that is simply irresistible, and how much she baffles the narrator Ashenden, with her lack of self-consciousness or guile is both sweet and a little sad – as only someone as young and inexperienced can fail to see that this won’t end well…
Obviously, the prose is pure enchantment, as I have come to expect from Maugham, and the lack of a proper plot can’t even bring the book down a notch when the sentences are so dazzling and sweet to read. I really feel like you can tell Maugham was having fun writing this book when you read it, by the way he writes beautiful passages that made me snort in my coffee.
I do not think that this little novel has quite the same caliber as “The Razor’s Edge” or my beloved “Of Human Bondage” (hence the 4 stars instead of 5), but it is a delightful part of Maugham’s catalogue, a gentle poke at a duplicitous society that caused him a lot of suffering and his upper-class attempt at forgiving the free-spiritedness and liberality of good-natured people who simply seek happiness. Sweetly nostalgic and very lovely!
I would struggle to explain what this story is about. Is it about William Ashenden’s memories, or about the lovely, lively Rosie Driffield’s impact on both him and her husband, celebrated author Edward Driffield? Is it about the way social conventions stifle people, about the horrible pretensions of the artistic sets, the hypocrisy and ambition that runs through both social strata? The way what inspires us is not always what’s proper but it is always beautiful to us? Is it a metaphor for the life Maugham was himself not quite allowed to live?
The framing device alone almost sounds like a (very English) joke: this is the story of a mediocre writer commissioned to write a book about an illustrious writer, who seeks help from another writer to gather his recollection of the early years of the aforementioned celebrated writer. The problem is that this commission comes from the author’s second, and respectable, wife – who is adamant there should be no mention of her late-husband’s first wife in this biography. But how do you write the life of an artist and erase his muse from it entirely?
I think that like most of the characters, I fell maybe not in love, but definitely in awe of Rosie, who walks that strange line of child-like innocence and enjoyment of things not considered quite proper. There is something about the way Maugham writes her that is simply irresistible, and how much she baffles the narrator Ashenden, with her lack of self-consciousness or guile is both sweet and a little sad – as only someone as young and inexperienced can fail to see that this won’t end well…
Obviously, the prose is pure enchantment, as I have come to expect from Maugham, and the lack of a proper plot can’t even bring the book down a notch when the sentences are so dazzling and sweet to read. I really feel like you can tell Maugham was having fun writing this book when you read it, by the way he writes beautiful passages that made me snort in my coffee.
I do not think that this little novel has quite the same caliber as “The Razor’s Edge” or my beloved “Of Human Bondage” (hence the 4 stars instead of 5), but it is a delightful part of Maugham’s catalogue, a gentle poke at a duplicitous society that caused him a lot of suffering and his upper-class attempt at forgiving the free-spiritedness and liberality of good-natured people who simply seek happiness. Sweetly nostalgic and very lovely!
kara_mom's review against another edition
3.0
I am giving this three stars only because the musing, non-plot portions of the book are SOOOO long and dry. The story, the characters, the setting — all great. But it seemed to take 30 pages to explain how little he thought of Kear and pretty much everyone else before anything even happened.
I do like how Maugham illustrates just how tightly wound Ashenden was in his youth; so class-conscious, such fear of impropriety. Appearance is everything. And juxtapose this with his loving defense of Rosie to the second Mrs. Driffield and Kear — granted, decades later, but his memory of her is not sullied by her promiscuity or poor decisions. She made her choices throughout her life in good faith, and to grab life by the horns.
And the telling of the daughter’s death — incredibly moving.
I do like how Maugham illustrates just how tightly wound Ashenden was in his youth; so class-conscious, such fear of impropriety. Appearance is everything. And juxtapose this with his loving defense of Rosie to the second Mrs. Driffield and Kear — granted, decades later, but his memory of her is not sullied by her promiscuity or poor decisions. She made her choices throughout her life in good faith, and to grab life by the horns.
And the telling of the daughter’s death — incredibly moving.
alicandlin's review against another edition
3.0
Although I liked the tone of the novel, and the voice of the narrator, especially in the beginning and when the narrator related stories from his childhood, I found parts of it to be quite dry and almost preachy in its cynical outlook on the literary world.
doramac's review against another edition
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
2.25