San Francisco was provincial, New York was effete; the future of America lay in the development of its economic possibilities, and Chicago, by its position and by the energy of its citizens, was destined to become the real capital of the country.
Bateman Hunter has just returned to America from the godawful visit to Tahiti. A rough one, indeed, that paradise of sun, sand, and surf. What could be better or more enticing to someone forced to undergo such torture than…Chicago? He’d gone to Tahiti to try to convince Edward Barnard to come back home and get back to his life. Edward, you see, had been sent to the paradise to show the natives how to do things better with American technology. The crux of the conflict lies in the fact that Bateman Hunter has been nurtured into becoming a capitalist drone while Edward represents one of Maugham’s many dreams who look at Chicago and then look at Tahiti are moved to ask a question that never crosses the minds of the Batemans of this world: why go back?
“He's splendid, isn't he?"
"He's white, through and through."
Yeah, you read it right. Of course, it is important to keep in mind that this story did appear in a collection published in 1921. But before making that quick leap to castigating the author as the racist here, it is worth understanding that Edward doesn’t use such terminology. Bateman, however, goes much farther than this. In fact, at one point, he laughs after using the N-word. Yes, Bateman has a problem with racism. It is certainly one of the reasons that he cannot just naturally sink into the sort of easy living in Tahiti that his friend demonstrates. This is a story of culture clash, as are all the stories in this collection to one degree or another. Edward, remember, is one of Maugham’s noble philosophical dreamers who dare to suggest that western society—capitalism and democracy—may not be quite the paradise people like Bateman believe it to be.
"You will never persuade me that white is black and that black is white,”
Yep, Bateman again. Except this time he is not referring specifically to the pigment of skin. This is response to Edward’s trying to tell him that his time in Tahiti—and away from the judgmental zeitgeist of America—has taught him to adjudicate the character of people in ways more complex and sophisticated than good and evil. Bateman’s reply once again reveals that he has gone native just as much as Edward. Edward has given into the tempting lure of Tahiti’s rejection of conventional western values and beliefs and so he has “gone native” in the traditional sense. But Bateman’s rigid clinging to ideas about American exceptionalism, the easily divided line between right and wrong, and the very concept that Chicago represents the best the world has to offer all point a deep and profound sort of going native as well.
