Maugham writes a first-person narrative about an English painter / artist named Charles Strickland. The narrator is a struggling playwright who is in association with many artist types. During his various meetings, he becomes acquaintances with the wife of Charles Strickland. The Strickland's are a comfortable family until (at the age of forty-seven) Charles decides to throw away his marriage, his kids, and his career to paint. Strickland moves to Paris where he does odd jobs for money, plays chess, and paints when he is able to. According to the narrator, his pictures aren't any good, but Strickland is happy doing what he loves and doesn't care about the consequences. However, Strickland, is actually a genius and he leaves behind a trail of priceless masterpieces. The narrator has many interludes with Strickland while he lives in Paris and when he loses track of Strickland, he learns about Strickland's painting life on the island of Haiti. Strickland is not a likeable character. He doesn't care what people think about him and is pretty much self-centered and is synical. However, he is open about and will candidly point out that most people are self-centered. Strickland even steals the wife of a friend who helped him during one of his low times. Somehow, the narrator and Strickland form a friendly bond and the reader gets a chance to know Strickland personally. The book was interesting. The story's primary message is that about art and happiness: that one should be doing it for themselves and not for glory or money. In addition, that when one is doing what truly makes one happy that it is priceless.