Opening Line
This is the opening line of the story and it’s a doozy. Just take a moment to carefully consider it, cultivate it, and harvest something from its fertile foundation. Those references to shallow waters, fear of sharks and the inability to tread too far out of his depth, for instance. That is the type of literary texture so laden with imagery that it absolutely has got to mean something beyond merely what is there on the surface. Extract a figurative pick from your literary analysis toolkit and head into that mineshaft because chances are there is going to wind up being some breathtaking large nuggets of symbolism. That sentence is a gold mine of useful imagery.
“He splashed about for a few minutes in the sea; it was too shallow to swim in and for fear of sharks he could not go out of his depth; then he got out and went into the bath-house for a shower.”
Closing Line
Somewhere in the neighborhood of 14,000 words separate the last line of the opening sentence and the opening word of the last sentence and within that entire vast ocean of words is a fact that might surprise many: the word “sharks” does not appear again, ever, not even once. So, you have a story that begins with the conveyance of a character’s fear of sharks and ends with the image of sharks testing the very limits of their predatory swimming skills to get to where a character has fallen. This is the sort of story structure that is the hallmark of a carefully crafted tale where every word is chosen carefully. So, consider again the potential gain to be enjoyed by studying that opening line and coming back to it again and again as you make your way through the narrative to this final line. Hint: the story is not literally about those sharks. They’re just imagery to simulate contemplation about something else they might possibly represent.
“An hour later half a dozen slim brown sharks were splashing and struggling at the spot where he fell.”
Island Architecture
Right around the midpoint range of those 14,000 words occur a bit of imagery which exists independently of any mention of sharks and shallow waters. Put the opening and closing lines aside from the moment and just focus on this and the other mechanisms by which Maugham discharges that most unpleasant of writing tasks, exposition. The story takes place in an exotic locale and being the good writer he is, Maugham is more than aware the reader needs to be reminded they are not in the comfort of their British cottage, but far away in a sunnier clime where mystique holds rein even in basic architecture:
“The Samoan huts are formed in this way: Trunks of slender trees are placed in a circle at intervals of perhaps five or six feet; a tall tree is set in the middle and from this downwards slopes the thatched roof. Venetian blinds of coconut leaves can be pulled down at night or when it is raining. Ordinarily the hut is open all round so that the breeze can blow through freely.”
Biblical Imagery
Biblical imagery abounds in the story which leads some to conclude there must be a connection between them which strives to make a point about the story’s meaning. One might do worse than to try connecting the dots and arriving at a logical interpretation about what the story means from such a perspective. Anyone considering such a literary analysis is well-advised not to underestimate the collective significance of all the imagery which, individualized in isolation, may not seem like much to go on.
“Mackintosh” is a type of apple; as in the “forbidden fruit.” Walker describes the literal imagery of the island at one point by exclaiming, "By George, it's like the garden of Eden." At a different point in story, he references the wrath of God: “If your rotten old store is burned down it's a judgment of Providence; that's what it is, a judgment of Providence.” Both the opening and closing scenes could reasonably be interpreted as baptismal imagery.
