The Painted Veil《面纱》讲述了20年代一对年轻的英国夫妇来到中国乡村生活的故事，在这美丽却凶险的环境中，他们经历了在其英国家乡舒适生活中无法想象和体验的情感波澜，并领悟到了爱与奉献的真谛。
故事以女主角吉蒂开篇，为了逃离20年代伦敦浮华却又空虚的社交圈，也为了防止自己变成一位老姑娘，吉蒂接受了沉默寡言的医生沃特 费恩的求婚。费恩在把吉蒂带到上海后，便迅速地投入到了他的细菌学研究中去。孤独的吉蒂和迷人的已婚男子查理 唐森发生了婚外情，当费恩发现时，他羞恨交加。为了报复，也为了重整自己的生活，费恩决定孤注一掷，带着吉蒂远走霍乱肆虐的偏远城镇。沃特从一尘不染的研究室走向了瘟疫流行的前线，他慢慢地协助控制了当地的疫情。吉蒂则开始在一家由法国修女住持的修道院兼医院中做义工，并逐渐找回了生活的勇气和意义。
在爱情、背叛与死亡的漩涡中挣扎的凯蒂，亲历了幻想破灭与生死离别之后，终将生活的面纱从她的眼前渐渐揭去，从此踏上了不悔的精神成长之路。
在毛姆的作品中，本书是很受读者欢迎却也为评论家所诟病的作品。小说在结尾让凯蒂意识到女人的一生不能只是为了和男人睡觉并依附于他——“弥足珍贵的是对责任的爱，当爱与责任合而为一，你就将是崇高的，你将享受无法言表的幸福。”——而在今天来看，这个结尾实在不够现实，也不够公平——没有人应为自己的错误永远背负十字架！
Kitty Fane is the beautiful but shallow wife of Walter, a bacteriologist stationed in Hong Kong. Unsatisfied by her marriage, she starts an affair with charming, attractive and exciting Charles Townsend. But when Walter discovers her deception, he exacts a strange and terrible vengeance: Kitty must accompany him to his new posting in remote mainland China, where a cholera epidemic rages...
First published to a storm of protest, The Painted Veil is a classic story of a woman’s spiritual awakening.
The Painted Veil《面纱》是英国作家毛姆创作的一部女性精神觉醒经典之作，同时也是其具争议的一部作品。据作者自述，这是他“一部起于故事，而非发于人物的小说”；书名典出雪莱的诗篇《别揭开这五彩面纱》：“别揭开这五彩面纱，芸芸众生都管它叫生活……”
推荐理由：
1. 现实主义文学大师毛姆的“人性三部曲”之首；
2. 毛姆剖析人性的著作，女性精神觉醒的经典读本；
3. 马尔克斯、村上春树、乔治 奥威尔、张爱玲、莫言、奈保尔一致推崇。
精彩书评：
“一对英国夫妇经历情感危机之后，来到中国内地的霍乱疫区救治病人与孤儿。上世纪二十年代的贵州湄潭政府缺席，社会松散，人情冷漠。小说中‘一盘散沙’的惨景至今仍然具有振聋发聩的力量。”——中国社科院文学研究所所长 陆建德
“《面纱》以其悲天悯人的情感关照，以其对道德冲突的敏感解析，以其对人性的尖锐反讽，以其对人类欲望、恐惧和悔恨等内在世界的建构，而成为一部艺术的杰作。” ——《观察家》
“回首现代作家，毛姆给了我深刻的影响。”——乔治 奥威尔，《1984》作者
Review
“Reveals many of Maugham’s strengths: an understanding of women, meticulous craftsmanship and raw emotion” — Daily Mail
“A work of art” — Spectator
“An expert craftsman... His style is sharp, quick, subdued, casual” — New York Times
毛姆(1874~1965)，英国现代著名的小说家与剧作家，1874年出生于巴黎。毛姆不满十岁，父母就先后去世。孤寂凄清的童年生活，在他稚嫩的心灵上投下了痛苦的阴影，养成他孤僻、敏感、内向的性格。幼年的经历对他的世界观和文学创作产生了深刻的影响。毛姆一生著作甚多，共写了长篇小说数十部，短篇小说一百多篇，剧本数十个，此外尚著有游记、回忆录、文艺评论多部。其作品文笔质朴，脉络清晰，取材广泛，洞悉人性；人物性格鲜明，情节跌宕有致，在各个阶层中都拥有相当广泛的读者群。代表作品有《人生的枷锁》《月亮和六便士》《刀锋》《面纱》《寻欢作乐》等。
William Somerset Maugham was a British playwright, novelist and short story writer. He was among the most popular writers of his era and reputedly the highest-paid author during the 1930s. The success of his first novel, Liza of Lambeth, published in 1897, won him over to literature. Of Human Bondage, the first of his masterpieces, came out in 1915, and with the publication in 1919 of The Moon and Sixpence his reputation as a novelist was established. At the same time his fame as a successful playwright and writer was being consolidated with acclaimed productions of various plays and the publication of several short story collections. His other works include travel books, essays, criticism and the autobiographical The Summing Up and A Writer’s Notebook.
She gave a startled cry.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
Notwithstanding the darkness of the shuttered room he saw her face on a sudden distraught with terror.
“Someone just tried the door.”
“Well, perhaps it was the amah, or one of the boys.”
“They never come at this time. They know I always sleep after tiffin.”
“Who else could it be?”
“Walter,” she whispered, her lips trembling.
She pointed to his shoes. He tried to put them on, but his nervousness, for her alarm was affecting him, made him clumsy, and besides, they were on the tight side. With a faint gasp of impatience she gave him a shoe horn. She slipped into a kimono and in her bare feet went over to her dressing-table. Her hair was shingled and with a comb she had repaired its disorder before he had laced his second shoe. She handed him his coat.
“How shall I get out?”
“You’d better wait a bit. I’ll look out and see that it’s all right.”
“It can’t possibly be Walter. He doesn’t leave the laboratory till five.”
“Who is it then?”
They spoke in whispers now. She was quaking. It occurred to him that in an emergency she would lose her head and on a sudden he felt angry with her. If it wasn’t safe why the devil had she said it was? She caught her breath and put her hand on his arm. He followed the direction of her glance. They stood facing the windows that led out on the verandah. They were shuttered and the shutters were bolted. They saw the white china knob of the handle slowly turn. They had heard no one walk along the verandah. It was terrifying to see that silent motion. A minute passed and there was no sound. Then, with the ghastliness of the supernatural, in the same stealthy, noiseless, and horrifying manner, they saw the white china knob of the handle at the other window turn also. It was so frightening that Kitty, her nerves failing her, opened her mouth to scream; but, seeing what she was going to do, he swiftly put his hand over it and her cry was smothered in his fingers.
Silence. She leaned against him, her knees shaking, and he was afraid she would faint. Frowning, his jaw set, he carried her to the bed and sat her down upon it. She was as white as the sheet and notwithstanding his tan his cheeks were pale too. He stood by her side looking with fascinated gaze at the china knob. They did not speak. Then he saw that she was crying.
“For God’s sake don’t do that,” he whispered irritably. “If we’re in for it we’re in for it. We shall just have to brazen it out.”
She looked for her handkerchief and knowing what she wanted he gave her her bag.
“Where’s your topee?”
“I left it downstairs.”
“Oh, my God!”
“I say, you must pull yourself together. It’s a hundred to one it wasn’t Walter. Why on earth should he come back at this hour? He never does come home in the middle of the day, does he?”
“Never.”
“I’ll bet you anything you like it was amah.”
She gave him the shadow of a smile. His rich, caressing voice reassured her and she took his hand and affectionately pressed it. He gave her a moment to collect herself.
“Look here, we can’t stay here forever,” he said then. “Do you feel up to going out on the verandah and having a look?”
“I don’t think I can stand.”
“Have you got any brandy in here?”
She shook her head. A frown for an instant darkened his brow, he was growing impatient, he did not quite know what to do. Suddenly she clutched his hand more tightly.
“Suppose he’s waiting there?”
He forced his lips to smile and his voice retained the gentle, persuasive tone the effect of which he was so fully conscious of.
“That’s not very likely. Have a little pluck, Kitty. How can it possibly be your husband? If he’d come in and seen a strange topee in the hall and come upstairs and found your room locked, surely he would have made some sort of row. It must have been one of the servants. Only a Chinese would turn a handle in that way.”
She did feel more herself now.
“It’s not very pleasant even if it was only the amah.”
“She can be squared and if necessary I’ll put the fear of God into her. There are not many advantages in being a government official, but you may as well get what you can out of it.”
He must be right. She stood up and turning to him stretched out her arms: he took her in his and kissed her on the lips. It was such rapture that it was pain. She adored him. He released her and she went to the window. She slid back the bolt and opening the shutter a little looked out. There was not a soul. She slipped on to the verandah, looked into her husband’s dressing-room and then into her own sitting-room. Both were empty. She went back to the bedroom and beckoned to him.
