I was completely shocked to find out that how much Philip Carey, a handicapped and introspective orphan, who longs for true love and the meaning of life was a portrait of myself. Maugham has written a book that is far deeper than any other great authors have ventured to go. One might fancy himself more aware of his existence if he reads a great deal, thinks of the human condition, longs for passion, rejects materialism, seeks pleasure in art and finds daily routine and common desires boring. But Maugham shows how one might just find that the true meaning of life does not come from great authors, philosophers and absolute idealism. In fact, Maugham (through Philip's eyes) sees beauty and a sense of power from meaninglessness of our lives (We are born, we live, and we die.) Maugham lays out peneratrating examination of poets, artists, philosophers, and religious figures blinded by their ideals as well as people we choose to be family, friends and lovers. Despite his violent urges to love and his insensentivity toward women who love him, Philip remains a very sympathetic figure who we try to understand because of his lonely life. Ultimately, he triumphs. By freeing himself from his 'ideas' of love and the meaning of life painted by great artists, writers and philosopher. He finally does something that is good for HIM. If you have to read one book in your entire life, let this be the one.