On a Chinese Screen

The novel opens on a dusty, mud‑brick gate that leads into a labyrinthine Chinese city, where camels lumber past ragged stalls and children chase a limping dog through clouds of earth. The streets are alive with hawkers’ guttural cries, silk‑clad gentlemen comparing their pet birds, and a lone Peking cart slipping silently into the gathering dusk. Maugham paints the scene with such vivid detail that the reader can hear the clatter of nails on wheels and feel the heat of the setting sun on the red, tiled roofs of ancient temples.

Beyond the bustling market, a determined woman has taken an abandoned monk’s temple and is reshaping it into her own parlour. She strips away dark ceilings, hangs blue curtains, and covers towering red columns with cheerful paper, turning solemn austerity into a bright, personal sanctuary. Her imaginative drive hints at the cultural intersections and personal ambitions that will shape the lives of those who wander the city’s winding lanes.