The story was written by Somerset Maugham - British novelist, playwright, short-story writer, highest paid author in the world in the 1930s. Despite his popularity, Maugham did not gain serious recognition. This was expressed in his autobiography THE SUMMING UP (1938), that he stood ‘in the very first row of the second-raters’. Maugham's skill in handling plot has been compared by critics in the manner of Guy de Maupassant. In many novels the surroundings are international and the stories are told in clear, economical style with cynical or faded undertone. Though there are many admirers of his works, I am among them.
In the story under the discussion we can define the style of the author as bookish more than as colloquial, as many words applied by Maugham prove that: affiance, to long, ailment, consent, etc. Although the colloquialisms are also present in the story, such as “dreadfully homesick”, etc.
The genre of the story is a novel, as it describes a love story of a couple never going to be together, it fully corresponds to the boundaries of this genre.
The subject matter – story about a usual fisherman’s son who returned from military service and found out that his girl refused from his love. He started a new life without her, but the loss hurt him and stayed in his heart forever ...
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Nikolay Lavrenenko ESAL 0570 October 27, 2014 Dian Henderson Character Analysis of “Salvatore” Salvatore is the major character in the short story “Salvatore” by Somerset Maugham. Despite the fact that Salvatore is just an ordinary Italian fisherman, he is going to hold the reader’s attention during the whole story. He is the son of fisherman, who spent every morning lying on the beach when he was a boy. Then he fall in love with the pretty girl from Grande Marina.Unfortunately, he get ill during his military service and doctor says that he will never be quite well.Then parents of the girl, with whom Salvatore in love, forbid him from marrying them daughter.But sometimes bad things happen to make person stronger. After that Salvatore get married with the ugly girl; unexpectedly, he possesses everything he couldn't dream before.His children were born. He tried to work hard despite on his disease.In the end of the story,he looks happy. Salvatore is static character because he doesn't change in the story. He is really sensitive guy and it can touch most part of readers. He is hard working because he continues to work after he got ill.He is kind and that quality definitely force readers to love him as character. This essay will show exactly why these qualities of Salvatore are really important and interesting for a reader. The first quality, Salvatore has sensitivity. Somerset Maugham indicates that Salvatore “wept on his mother’s bosom” (68.26). It happened when the girl’s parents forbid Salvatore from marrying their daughters. He is strong man but he can’t hold in his feelings. His mother shows understanding. That's why he cries on her bosom. Another time that clearly shows his sensitivity, when he was in military service. When he leaves his home and Salvatore understands that he won’t see his native land for a long time. He starts to cry. The author writes, “He wept like a child” (19.25). He cries because he leaves his home, his bride and his parents. Sensitivity is not a bad quality. It can deeply touch readers and make them feel Salvatore’s worries. Secondly, Salvatore is a really hard working person. In the beginning of the story, he helps his father to look after his younger brothers. However, readers can clearly see his diligence at the end of the story after the marriage with Assunta. Despite on his disease, which he got during military service, he continues to work hard. As the narrator says “He was working in his vineyard from dawn till the heat drove him to rest and then again” (108, 27). In addition, he fished all season with one of his brothers. Eventhough, it was difficult for Salvatore and “Often his rheumatism prevented him from doing anything” (109, 27). A lot of people may think that he is lazy, but it’s not true. He is really hard working. The doctors told him that he would never be quite well again. And he tries to prove everyone that it was a mistake.This quality may inspire some readers. Whatever happens in people’s life, it makes them stronger. Salvatore just give us an example.People just should work hard despite on deceases and other problems. The last quality, Salvatore is a kind person. In the climax of this story, parents prohibition for marriage of their daughters and Salvatore, even though, they love each other. Salvatore makes a really unpredictable decision. He lets her go. The narrator says “girl could not afford to marry a man who might not be able to support her” (70.26). That were Salvator’s thoughts. He understands that he has a serious problems with his health and he doesn't want to burden the girl's life. Salvatore makes the only right decision in relation to his love. Similarly, the author says “He had the most beautiful manners” (94, 26). It shows that narrator really like this person. It shows that Salvatore is really kind, and his actions, especially, in relation to his ex-bride strongly confirm this statement. This quality of Salvatore just makes worry more about him because he is such a good and well-mannered person. He had a lot of troubles in his life but he didn’t change and the narrator says that Salvatore has “kindly eyes that he had as a boy.” This essay shows three main qualities of Salvatore. He is sensitive, hard working and kind.He is the character, who can hold the attention of the reader during the whole story because of those qualities that were listed in this essay. Salvatore is static because he was kind,hard working and sensitive at the beginning of the story and he doesn’t change at the end.He has really hard destiny but he goes through all difficulties. He didn't have anything, then he broke up with his a love and then he married the girl, who is ugly and elder than him. But at the end he get everything. Good wife. Children. Property. That's how ordinary Italian fisherman looks like.
I wonder if I can do this.
When I first saw Salvatore, he was a fifteen-year-old boy, very ugly, but with a pleasant face, a laughing mouth and a carefree look. In the mornings he lay on the shore almost naked, and his tanned body was as thin as a sliver. He was unusually graceful. Every now and then he began to dive and swim, cutting through the water with angular, light strokes, like all fisher boys. He climbed the sharp rocks, clinging to them with his rough heels (he wore boots only on Sundays), and threw himself into the water with a joyful cry. His father was a fisherman and had a small vineyard, and Salvatore had to take care of his two younger brothers. When the boys swam too far, he called them back; when it was time for a meager lunch, he forced them to dress, and they climbed the hot hillside covered with vineyards.
But in the south boys grow up quickly, and soon he was madly in love with a pretty girl who lived on the Grande Marina. Her eyes were like forest lakes, and she behaved like Caesar's daughter. They became engaged, but could not marry until Salvatore had completed his military service, and when he left his island for the first time in his life to become a sailor in King Victor Emmanuel's fleet, he cried like a child. It was difficult for Salvatore, accustomed to the free life of a bird, to now obey any order; it’s even more difficult to live on a warship with strangers, and not in your little white house among the vineyard; going ashore, wandering through noisy cities where he had no friends and where there was such a crush on the streets that he was even afraid to cross them - after all, he was so used to quiet paths, mountains and the sea. He probably did not imagine that he could not do without Ischia, which he looked at every evening to determine what the weather would be like the next day (at sunset this island was absolutely fabulous), and Vesuvius, pearly at dawn; now that he no longer saw them, he became dimly aware that they were as inseparable from him as any part of his body. He was painfully homesick. But most of all he endured separation from the girl whom he loved with all his passionate young heart. He wrote her long letters, full of spelling errors, in childish handwriting, in which he told her that he thought about her all the time and dreamed of returning home. He was sent to different places - to La Spezia, Bari, Venice - and finally sent to China. There he fell ill with a mysterious illness, which kept him in the hospital for many months. He bore it with the silent patience of a dog that doesn’t understand what’s happening. When he learned that he was ill with rheumatism and therefore unfit for further service, his heart rejoiced, since now he could return home; he was not at all bothered, or rather, he hardly even listened, when the doctors said that he would never be able to completely recover from this disease. What did it matter - after all, he was returning to his little island, which he loved so much, and to the girl who was waiting for him!
When Salvatore got into the boat that was meeting the steamer from Naples, and, approaching the shore, saw his father, mother and both brothers, already big boys, on the pier, he waved his hand to them. In the crowd on the shore, he looked for his bride with his eyes. But she wasn't there. He ran up the steps, endless kisses began, and all of them, emotional creatures, cried a little, rejoicing at the meeting. He asked where the girl was. The mother replied that she did not know: they had not seen her for two or three weeks. In the evening, when the moon shone over the serene sea, and the lights of Naples flickered in the distance, he went down to the Grande Marina, to her house. She was sitting on the porch with her mother. He was a little timid, since he had not seen her for a long time. He asked if perhaps she had not received the letter in which he announced his return. No, they received a letter, and one guy from their own island told them about his illness. That's why he came back; wasn't he lucky? Yes, but they heard that he would never fully recover. The doctors were talking all sorts of nonsense, but he knows well that now, at home, he will get better. They were silent for a moment, then the mother nudged her daughter slightly with her elbow. The girl did not stand on ceremony. With the brutal directness of an Italian, she immediately said that she would not marry a man who was not strong enough to do a man's work. They have already discussed everything in the family; her father will never agree to this marriage.
When Salvatore returned home, it turned out that everyone there already knew. The girl's father came to warn about the decision, but Salvatore's parents did not have the courage to tell him this. He cried on his mother's chest. He was incredibly unhappy, but he didn’t blame the girl. The life of a fisherman is hard and requires strength and endurance. He understood perfectly well that a girl cannot marry a man who may not be able to feed her. He smiled sadly, his eyes were like those of a beaten dog, but he did not complain or say anything bad about the one he loved so much. A few months later, when he had already settled down, got involved in working in his father’s vineyard and went fishing, his mother said that one young woman from their village would not mind marrying him. Her name is Assunta.
“She’s scary as hell,” he remarked.
Assunta was older than him, she was already twenty-five years old, no less; Her fiancé was killed in Africa, where he was serving military service. She saved some money and, if Salvatore married her, would buy him a boat; in addition, they could rent a vineyard, which, by lucky chance, was empty at that time. The mother said that Assunta saw him at the patronal feast and fell in love with him. His usual gentle smile appeared on Salvatore’s lips, and he promised to think about it. The following Sunday, dressed in a rough black suit that made him look much worse than in the torn shirt and trousers he usually wore, he went to the parish church for mass and positioned himself so as to get a good look at the young woman. When he returned, he told his mother that he agreed.
So they got married and settled into a tiny white house nestled among a vineyard. Now Salvatore was a huge, awkward brute, he was tall and broad-shouldered, but retained his boyish, naive smile and trusting, gentle eyes. He behaved with amazing nobility. Assunta had sharp features and a sullen expression, and she looked older than her years. But she had a good heart and she was not stupid. I was amused by the barely noticeable devoted smile that she gave her husband when he suddenly began to command and give orders in the house; she was always touched by his meekness and tenderness. But she couldn’t stand the girl who rejected him, and, despite Salvatore’s good-natured admonitions, she reviled her with the last words.
They started having children. Life was difficult. Throughout the season, Salvatore, along with one of his brothers, went to the fishing spot every evening. To get there they rowed for at least six or seven miles, and Salvatore spent all his nights there catching cuttlefish for sale. Then the long journey back began: it was necessary to sell the catch in order for it to be taken to Naples by the first ship. Sometimes Salvatore worked in the vineyard - from early morning until the heat forced him to rest, and then, when it became a little cooler, until dark. It also happened that rheumatism did not allow him to work, and then he would lie on the shore, smoking cigarettes, and he always had a kind word for everyone, despite the pain tormenting him. Foreigners who came to swim said when they saw him that Italian fishermen were terrible quitters.
Sometimes he brought his children to the sea to bathe them. He had two boys, and at that time the eldest was three years old, and the youngest was not even two years old. They crawled naked along the shore, and from time to time Salvatore, standing on a stone, dipped them into the water. The elder bore it stoically, but the baby roared desperately. Salvatore's hands were huge, each the size of a ham, they were tough and coarse from constant work; but when he bathed his children, he held them so carefully and dried them so carefully that, honestly, his hands became as tender as flowers. Having placed the naked boy in his palm, he raised him high, laughing at the fact that the child was so tiny, and his laughter was like the laughter of an angel. At such moments his eyes were as pure as the eyes of a child.
I began the story by saying: I wonder if I can do this, and now I have to say what exactly I was trying to do. I was wondering if I could hold your attention for a few minutes while I painted for you a portrait of a man, a simple Italian fisherman, who had nothing in his soul but the rarest, most valuable and beautiful gift that a person can possess. Only God knows by what strange chance this gift was bestowed upon Salvatore. Personally, I know one thing: Salvatore brought it to people with an open heart, but if he did it less unconsciously and modestly, many would certainly find it difficult to accept him. If you haven’t guessed what this gift is, I’ll tell you: kindness, just kindness.
Maugham Somerset
Salvatore
William Somerset Maugham
Salvatore
I wonder if I can do this.
When I first saw Salvatore, he was a fifteen-year-old boy, very ugly, but with a pleasant face, a laughing mouth and a carefree look. In the mornings he lay on the shore almost naked, and his tanned body was as thin as a sliver. He was unusually graceful. Every now and then he began to dive and swim, cutting through the water with angular, light strokes, like all fisher boys. He climbed the sharp rocks, clinging to them with his rough heels (he wore boots only on Sundays), and threw himself into the water with a joyful cry. His father was a fisherman and had a small vineyard, and Salvatore had to take care of his two younger brothers. When the boys swam too far, he called them back; when it was time for a meager lunch, he forced them to dress, and they climbed the hot hillside covered with vineyards.
But in the south boys grow up quickly, and soon he was madly in love with a pretty girl who lived on the Grande Marina. Her eyes were like forest lakes, and she behaved like Caesar's daughter. They became engaged, but could not marry until Salvatore had completed his military service, and when he left his island for the first time in his life to become a sailor in King Victor Emmanuel's fleet, he cried like a child. It was difficult for Salvatore, accustomed to the free life of a bird, to now obey any order; it’s even more difficult to live on a warship with strangers, and not in your little white house among the vineyard; going ashore, wandering through noisy cities where he had no friends and where there was such a crush on the streets that he was even afraid to cross them - after all, he was so used to quiet paths, mountains and the sea. He probably did not imagine that he could not do without Ischia, which he looked at every evening to determine what the weather would be like the next day (at sunset this island was absolutely fabulous), and Vesuvius, pearly at dawn; now that he no longer saw them, he became dimly aware that they were as inseparable from him as any part of his body. He was painfully homesick. But most of all he endured separation from the girl whom he loved with all his passionate young heart. He wrote her long letters, full of spelling errors, in childish handwriting, in which he told her that he thought about her all the time and dreamed of returning home. He was sent to different places - to La Spezia, Bari, Venice - and finally sent to China. There he fell ill with a mysterious illness, which kept him in the hospital for many months. He bore it with the silent patience of a dog that doesn’t understand what’s happening. When he learned that he was ill with rheumatism and therefore unfit for further service, his heart rejoiced, since now he could return home; he was not at all bothered, or rather, he hardly even listened, when the doctors said that he would never be able to completely recover from this disease. What did it matter - after all, he was returning to his little island, which he loved so much, and to the girl who was waiting for him!
When Salvatore got into the boat that was meeting the steamer from Naples, and, approaching the shore, saw his father, mother and both brothers, already big boys, on the pier, he waved his hand to them. In the crowd on the shore, he looked for his bride with his eyes. But she wasn't there. He ran up the steps, endless kisses began, and all of them, emotional creatures, cried a little, rejoicing at the meeting. He asked where the girl was. The mother replied that she did not know: they had not seen her for two or three weeks. In the evening, when the moon shone over the serene sea, and the lights of Naples flickered in the distance, he went down to the Grande Marina, to her house. She was sitting on the porch with her mother. He was a little timid, since he had not seen her for a long time. He asked if perhaps she had not received the letter in which he announced his return. No, they received a letter, and one guy from their own island told them about his illness. That's why he came back; wasn't he lucky? Yes, but they heard that he would never fully recover. The doctors were talking all sorts of nonsense, but he knows well that now, at home, he will get better. They were silent for a moment, then the mother nudged her daughter slightly with her elbow. The girl did not stand on ceremony. With the brutal directness of an Italian, she immediately said that she would not marry a man who was not strong enough to do a man's work. They have already discussed everything in the family; her father will never agree to this marriage.
When Salvatore returned home, it turned out that everyone there already knew. The girl's father came to warn about the decision, but Salvatore's parents did not have the courage to tell him this. He cried on his mother's chest. He was incredibly unhappy, but he didn’t blame the girl. The life of a fisherman is hard and requires strength and endurance. He understood perfectly well that a girl cannot marry a man who may not be able to feed her. He smiled sadly, his eyes were like those of a beaten dog, but he did not complain or say anything bad about the one he loved so much. A few months later, when he had already settled down, got involved in working in his father’s vineyard and went fishing, his mother said that one young woman from their village would not mind marrying him. Her name is Assunta.
“She’s scary as hell,” he remarked.
Assunta was older than him, she was already twenty-five years old, no less; Her fiancé was killed in Africa, where he was serving military service. She saved some money and, if Salvatore married her, would buy him a boat; in addition, they could rent a vineyard, which, by lucky chance, was empty at that time. The mother said that Assunta saw him at the patronal feast and fell in love with him. His usual gentle smile appeared on Salvatore’s lips, and he promised to think about it. The following Sunday, dressed in a rough black suit - in which he looked much worse than in the torn shirt and trousers he usually wore - he went to the parish church for mass and positioned himself so as to get a good look at the young woman. When he returned, he told his mother that he agreed.
So they got married and settled into a tiny white house nestled among a vineyard. Now Salvatore was a huge, awkward brute, he was tall and broad-shouldered, but retained his boyish, naive smile and trusting, gentle eyes. He behaved with amazing nobility. Assunta had sharp features and a sullen expression, and she looked older than her years. But she had a good heart and she was not stupid. I was amused by the barely noticeable devoted smile that she gave her husband when he suddenly began to command and give orders in the house; she was always touched by his meekness and tenderness. But she couldn’t stand the girl who rejected him, and, despite Salvatore’s good-natured admonitions, she reviled her with the last words.
Salvatore
William Somerset Maugham
Salvatore
Story.
I wonder if I can do this.
When I first saw Salvatore, he was a fifteen-year-old boy, very ugly, but with a pleasant face, a laughing mouth and a carefree look. In the mornings he lay on the shore almost naked, and his tanned body was as thin as a sliver. He was unusually graceful. Every now and then he began to dive and swim, cutting through the water with angular, light strokes, like all fisher boys. He climbed the sharp rocks, clinging to them with his rough heels (he wore boots only on Sundays), and with a joyful cry he threw himself into the water. His father was a fisherman and had a small vineyard, and Salvatore had to take care of his two younger brothers. When the boys swam too far, he called them back; when it was time for a meager lunch, he forced them to dress, and they climbed the hot hillside covered with vineyards.
But in the south boys grow up quickly, and soon he was madly in love with a pretty girl who lived on the Grande Marina. Her eyes were like forest lakes, and she behaved like Caesar's daughter. They became engaged, but could not marry until Salvatore had completed his military service, and when he left his island for the first time in his life to become a sailor in King Victor Emmanuel's fleet, he cried like a child. It was difficult for Salvatore, accustomed to the free life of a bird, to now obey any order; it’s even more difficult to live on a warship with strangers, and not in your little white house among the vineyard; going ashore, wandering through noisy cities where he had no friends and where there was such a crush on the streets that he was even afraid to cross them - after all, he was so used to quiet paths, mountains and the sea. He probably did not imagine that he could not do without Ischia, which he looked at every evening to determine what the weather would be like the next day (at sunset this island was absolutely fabulous), and Vesuvius, pearly at dawn; now that he no longer saw them, he became dimly aware that they were as inseparable from him as any part of his body. He was painfully homesick. But most of all he endured separation from the girl whom he loved with all his passionate young heart. He wrote her long letters, full of spelling errors, in childish handwriting, in which he told her that he thought about her all the time and dreamed of returning home. He was sent to different places - to La Spezia, Bari, Venice - and finally sent to China. There he fell ill with a mysterious illness, which kept him in the hospital for many months. He bore it with the silent patience of a dog that doesn’t understand what’s happening. When he learned that he was ill with rheumatism and therefore unfit for further service, his heart rejoiced, since now he could return home; he was not at all bothered, or rather, he hardly even listened, when the doctors said that he would never be able to completely recover from this disease. What did it matter - after all, he was returning to his little island, which he loved so much, and to the girl who was waiting for him!
When Salvatore got into the boat that was meeting the steamer from Naples, and, approaching the shore, saw his father, mother and both brothers, already big boys, on the pier, he waved his hand to them. In the crowd on the shore, he looked for his bride with his eyes. But she wasn't there. He ran up the steps, endless kisses began, and all of them, emotional creatures, cried a little, rejoicing at the meeting. He asked where the girl was. The mother replied that she did not know: they had not seen her for two or three weeks. In the evening, when the moon shone over the serene sea, and the lights of Naples flickered in the distance, he went down to the Grande Marina, to her house. She was sitting on the porch with her mother. He was a little timid, since he had not seen her for a long time. He asked if perhaps she had not received the letter in which he announced his return. No, they received a letter, and one guy from their own island told them about his illness. That's why he came back; wasn't he lucky? Yes, but they heard that he would never fully recover. The doctors were talking all sorts of nonsense, but he knows well that now, at home, he will get better. They were silent for a moment, then the mother nudged her daughter slightly with her elbow. The girl did not stand on ceremony. With the brutal directness of an Italian, she immediately said that she would not marry a man who was not strong enough to do a man's work. They have already discussed everything in the family; her father will never agree to this marriage.
When Salvatore returned home, it turned out that everyone there already knew. The girl's father came to warn about the decision, but Salvatore's parents did not have the courage to tell him this. He cried on his mother's chest. He was incredibly unhappy, but he didn’t blame the girl. The life of a fisherman is hard and requires strength and endurance. He understood perfectly well that a girl cannot marry a man who may not be able to feed her. He smiled sadly, his eyes were like those of a beaten dog, but he did not complain or say anything bad about the one he loved so much. A few months later, when he had already settled down, got involved in working in his father’s vineyard and went fishing, his mother said that one young woman from their village would not mind marrying him. Her name is Assunta.
“She’s scary as hell,” he remarked.
Assunta was older than him, she was already twenty-five years old, no less; Her fiancé was killed in Africa, where he was serving military service. She saved some money and, if Salvatore married her, would buy him a boat; in addition, they could rent a vineyard, which, by lucky chance, was empty at that time. The mother said that Assunta saw him at the patronal feast and fell in love with him. His usual gentle smile appeared on Salvatore’s lips, and he promised to think about it. The following Sunday, dressed in a rough black suit - in which he looked much worse than in the torn shirt and trousers he usually wore - he went to the parish church for mass and positioned himself so as to get a good look at the young woman. When he returned, he told his mother that he agreed.
So they got married and settled into a tiny white house nestled among a vineyard. Now Salvatore was a huge, awkward brute, he was tall and broad-shouldered, but retained his boyish, naive smile and trusting, gentle eyes. He behaved with amazing nobility. Assunta had sharp features and a sullen expression, and she looked older than her years. But she had a good heart and she was not stupid. I was amused by the barely noticeable devoted smile that she gave her husband when he suddenly began to command and give orders in the house; she was always touched by his meekness and tenderness. But she couldn’t stand the girl who rejected him, and, despite Salvatore’s good-natured admonitions, she reviled her with the last words.
They started having children. Life was difficult. Throughout the season, Salvatore, along with one of his brothers, went to the fishing spot every evening. To get there they rowed for at least six or seven miles, and Salvatore spent all his nights there catching cuttlefish for sale. Then the long journey back began: it was necessary to sell the catch in order for it to be taken to Naples by the first ship. Sometimes Salvatore worked in the vineyard - from early morning until the heat forced him to rest, and then, when it became a little cooler, until dark. It also happened that rheumatism did not allow him to work, and then he would lie on the shore, smoking cigarettes, and he always had a kind word for everyone, despite the pain tormenting him. Foreigners who came to swim said when they saw him that Italian fishermen were terrible quitters.
Sometimes he brought his children to the sea to bathe them. He had two boys, and at that time the eldest was three years old, and the youngest was not even two years old. They crawled naked along the shore, and from time to time Salvatore, standing on a stone, dipped them into the water. The elder bore it stoically, but the baby roared desperately. Salvatore's hands were huge, each the size of a ham, they were tough and coarse from constant work; but when he bathed his children, he held them so carefully and dried them so carefully that, honestly, his hands became as tender as flowers. Having placed the naked boy in his palm, he raised him high, laughing at the fact that the child was so tiny, and his laughter was like the laughter of an angel. At such moments his eyes were as pure as the eyes of a child.
I began the story by saying: I wonder if I can do this, and now I have to say what exactly I was trying to do. I was wondering if I could hold your attention for a few minutes while I painted for you a portrait of a man, a simple Italian fisherman, who had nothing in his soul but the rarest, most valuable and beautiful gift that a person can possess. Only God knows by what strange chance this gift was bestowed upon Salvatore. Personally, I know one thing: Salvatore brought it to people with an open heart, but if he did it less unconsciously and modestly, many would certainly find it difficult to accept him. If you haven’t guessed what this gift is, I’ll tell you: kindness, just kindness.
