W. Somerset Maugham was a cynical man. He didn't really believe in the "happily ever after" that his contemporaries were selling in the early 20th century. If you pick up Somerset Maugham's The Painted Veil, you aren't getting a sweeping romance. You're getting a psychological autopsy. It’s a book about a woman named Kitty Fane who marries a man she doesn't love, gets caught in an affair, and is basically dragged into the middle of a cholera epidemic as a death sentence.
It's messy.
Honestly, the reason this book still hits so hard in 2026 is that it refuses to make its protagonist a saint. Kitty is shallow. She’s vain. She’s kind of a brat at the start. But by the time you reach the end of her journey in mainland China, you realize Maugham wasn't trying to write a hero. He was writing about how suffering—real, gut-wrenching, "people are dying in the streets" suffering—forces a person to grow up.
The Brutal Reality Behind The Painted Veil
The story kicks off with a moment of pure, high-stakes tension. Kitty is in Hong Kong, having an affair with a charming, high-ranking official named Charlie Townsend. Her husband, Walter Fane, is a bacteriologist. He’s quiet, awkward, and deeply intelligent. He’s also the last person you’d want to cross. When Walter finds out about the infidelity, he doesn't scream. He doesn't file for divorce. Instead, he gives Kitty an ultimatum: come with him to a cholera-infested remote village in Mei-tan-fu, or face a public scandal that will ruin her reputation and Charlie’s career.
Walter knows what he's doing. He's a man of science who understands exactly how high the mortality rate is in the interior. It’s a murder-suicide pact wrapped in a travel itinerary.
What Maugham captures so perfectly is the internal collapse of Kitty’s illusions. She thinks Charlie loves her. She thinks he’ll protect her. But when she goes to him for help, he basically tells her to take one for the team. This is the "painted veil" of the title—a reference to a Percy Bysshe Shelley sonnet. It’s about the thin layer of illusions we call life. Kitty’s veil is ripped away in a single afternoon. Suddenly, she’s on a boat heading into a wasteland where death is the only neighbor.
Why We Still Talk About Walter Fane
Walter is one of the most polarizing characters in English literature. Some readers see him as a victim who finally snapped; others see him as a borderline sociopath. Maugham, who worked as a medic and an intelligence agent, understood the coldness of the scientific mind. Walter doesn't just want to punish Kitty; he wants to observe her disintegration.
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But a funny thing happens on the way to the cemetery.
As they settle into the horrors of Mei-tan-fu, Kitty begins to see Walter through the eyes of the people he’s saving. She sees his bravery. She sees the nuns at the French convent working themselves to the bone to care for orphans. For the first time in her life, Kitty feels small—not because Walter is mean to her, but because she realizes how insignificant her petty Hong Kong dramas are in the face of a literal plague.
The Evolution of Kitty Fane
Maugham doesn't give her a sudden personality transplant. She doesn't become a nun or a saint. She just becomes... aware.
- She realizes Charlie Townsend is a "second-rate" man.
- She acknowledges that she married Walter out of fear of being an "old maid."
- She stops looking in the mirror and starts looking at the world.
There's a specific scene where Kitty looks at the Chinese landscape and feels a sense of peace that has nothing to do with people. It’s one of the few times Maugham lets his guard down and writes something approaching spiritual. It’s the realization that the world is huge and indifferent, and our little heartbreaks are just ripples in a very large pond.
The Controversy of the Ending
If you’ve only seen the 2006 movie starring Naomi Watts and Edward Norton, you’ve been lied to. Sort of. The movie is beautiful, but it softens the blow. In the film, Walter and Kitty find a way to love each other again before the end. It’s Hollywood. It’s what we want to happen.
The book is much darker.
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Somerset Maugham's The Painted Veil doesn't believe in easy forgiveness. Without spoiling the exact mechanics of the finale for those who haven't read it, let's just say that Walter’s final words are some of the most devastating in the history of the novel. He dies with a bitter realization, not a romantic one. And Kitty? She doesn't ride off into the sunset. She goes back to a world that doesn't quite know what to do with her.
Maugham was obsessed with the idea of "freedom." Not political freedom, but the freedom from one’s own desires and ego. Kitty’s journey ends not with a new husband, but with a sense of self-possession. She decides that she will raise her child to be independent, to be "a person," rather than a social ornament.
The Real-World Context of Maugham’s Work
When Maugham wrote this in 1925, he was actually sued. He had to change the names of the characters and locations because people in the real Hong Kong colonial government thought he was airing their dirty laundry. The original name of the couple was "Lane," and the city was "Hong Kong" (which he briefly had to change to "Tching-Yen").
This tells you something about Maugham’s style. He wasn't imagining these people; he was reporting on them. He spent years traveling through Southeast Asia and China, staying in dingy hotels and government outposts. He saw the way Europeans acted when they thought no one was watching. He saw the boredom, the adultery, and the casual cruelty of the colonial class.
A Masterclass in Subtext
Maugham’s prose is deceptive. It’s very plain. He doesn't use big words or flowery metaphors. He just tells you what happened. But because he’s so direct, the emotional hits land harder. When he describes the smell of the cholera wards or the way a person looks when they’ve given up on life, it sticks with you.
He once said, "I have never pretended to be anything but a story teller." That’s a bit of a lie. He was an observer of the human animal. In The Painted Veil, he’s looking at what happens when that animal is backed into a corner.
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How to Approach the Novel Today
If you’re going to dive into this book, forget the "classic literature" tag. Don't think of it as a homework assignment. Think of it as a psychological thriller about a toxic marriage.
- Watch the 2006 film first. I know, I know. Usually, people say read the book first. But the film provides a visual sense of the era and the landscape that makes the book’s bleaker tone even more effective by contrast.
- Read the Preface. Maugham often wrote prefaces for later editions where he talked about the legal troubles the book caused. It’s fascinating.
- Look for the 1925 edition themes. Notice how Maugham handles the "East meets West" dynamic. By modern standards, some of the colonial perspectives are dated, but Maugham is actually quite critical of the British expats. He portrays them as shallow and out of touch compared to the stoic reality of the local population.
The core takeaway from the story isn't about cholera or China. It’s about the moment you realize that the person you’ve been pretending to be is a lie. Kitty Fane had to go to the edge of the world to find out who she actually was. Most of us just have to read the book to get the same perspective.
The ending isn't "happy," but it is honest. Kitty doesn't find a man to complete her; she finds a version of herself that she can finally live with. In the world of Maugham, that’s as close to a win as you’re ever going to get. It’s a reminder that while we can’t control the "plagues" in our lives, we can control whether we face them with our eyes open or closed. That’s the real power of this story. It’s not about the veil; it’s about what happens when you finally decide to lift it.
To truly appreciate the nuance, pay attention to the dialogue between Kitty and the Mother Superior at the convent. Those conversations are where the "lifestyle" philosophy of the book really hides. It's about duty versus desire, and Maugham doesn't give you a straight answer on which one is better. He just shows you the cost of both.
Read it for the drama. Keep it for the wisdom. Just don't expect a hug at the end.