Today I finally feel like I got down to some studyin.
First, I continued to reread Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse. Amazingly as it may seem *I* chose this book for our couples book club. It's a much more philosophical read than I'd thought and it's a bit confusing since it has three distinct sections, one a small print 20 page, almost unreadable, "Treatise on the Steppenwolf." What the hell was I thinking? I won't go into details. Suffice it to say that my criteria were the following: book in my house I hadn't read but had always meant to, book under 300 or so pages, one that caught my attention the first few pages (I think I was on something when I checked Steppen for this). Probably should have picked a Bend in the River by Naipaul.
So, anyways, since I gave Steppenwolf a very quick read over Thanksgiving, trying to assuage my nervousness about my pick (which was not accomplished), I decided to re-read the first half or so before book club on Friday. And I have to say I've enjoyed it much more than the first time (I actually like the middle section after the "guy" who finds Steppenwolf's manuscript, introduces said manuscript and before the pre-magical realism/ magical theatre stuff). As you may or may not know the main character, Harry Haller, can't stand the bougeious mentality but at the same time can't live without them. He's unhappy and contemplates suicide; kind of an older, more philosophical, Holden Caulfield from Catcher in the Rye.
Here are some of my favorite sections, some stuff already "published" through email to my book club, emails which probably will only add insult to injury:
A central scene is the dinner scene with the professor and his wife (on pp. 84-89 in my book). Haller accepts the dinner invitation only to quickly realize his mistake upon seeing the Goethe portrait in their home: "Here fine Old Masters and the Nation's Great Ones were at home, not Steppenwolves." During dinner the professor criticizes and unpatriotic article that was, unbeknownst to them, actually written by Haller. Haller racks his brain for something "harmless to say" but like the rock in the road he finally lets loose on the Goethe portrait. Things go downhill from here. Haller leaves and then reflects: "I could not bear this tame, lying, well-mannered life any longer. And since it appeared that I could not bear my loneliness any longer either, since my own company had become so unspeakably hateful and nauseous, since I struggled for breath in a vacuum and suffocated in hell, what way out was left me? There was none" (89).
Even though this will surely to bring more scorn and ridicule on me, I can't help but connect in a deep way to his inability to leave with or without others.
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One more then I will leave you alone:
Just found this passage I'd overlooked on the first read: "there was no power in the world that could prevail with me to go through the mortal terror of another encounter with myself, to face another reorganization, a new incarnation, when at the end of the road there was no peace or quiet--but forever destroying the self, in order to renew the self" (72).
Don't we all feel this at times? (maybe not this extreme). We get a new brilliant insight into our lives--how to be happier, more motivated, kinder--only to realize a week or a month or a year later that our insight was only skin deep. It crumbles in our hands, forcing us yet again to try and figure out what makes us tick.
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I know that many of the passages are laughable--so very earnest--but I can't help but bring my own earnestness to them, couldn't help giving the book a second chance, couldn't help feeling a connection with another malcontent created almost 100 years ago.
I also studied up on Hesse's influences: Either/Or by Soren Kierkegaard which I take it argues against Hegel's dialectic by asserting that our choices still matter, that we choose between the ascete or ethical path; Goethe, who did a bit of everything--should actually read something by him; thought about reading up on the musical stuff but not that ambitious.
Second, I listened to Chris Hedges' criticism of the New atheists (Sam Harris, Christopher Hitchens etc.) but I will have to flesh that out in another post.
4 comments:
I tried reading Steppenwolf years ago but found it too self indulgent and navel gazey. I found Siddartha to be better, but similar in its introvertedness. Of course, I think I read Siddartha when I was 18 or so, and attempted Steppenwolf when I was 20, and I think matured a lot in those two years in between.
Glad to have the tip about Hedges and the new atheists--I did a little looking around, looks like an interesting ongoing discussion. What exactly are you listening to?
Steppen is definitely self-indulgent auto-biography. I never would have put as much time into it without a looming bk club discussion. I feel an attachment now but it was definitely a rough relationship.
You don't like Hesse because he's too self indulgent and introverted? Are you kidding me?
Well, to each his own, but I'm glad your literary tastes haven't been adopted by the world's great writers.
In "A Life without Principle", Henry Thoreau, another pretty decent writer, explicitly declares his intention to give an account of his private experience and not pander to the wishes of his audience. As he puts it: "... I am determined that they [his audience] shall have me, though I bore them beyond all precedent". And later: "Since you are my readers, and I have not been much of a traveller, I will not talk about people a thousand miles off, but come as near home as I can."
He writes about what he observes in his daily walks (which occupied almost all of his daylight hours) rather than what he reads in the newspapers, and about his day-to-day thoughts and experiences rather than the grand issues and fashions of the day. He makes no effort, that is, to be of 'public' value; rather, he expects his readers to take an interest in his private life because his private life is intrinsically valuable. In other words, he's self indulgent and introverted--and he expects that his readers will appreciate it.
"The greatest compliment that was ever paid me", he states, "was when one asked me what I thought, and attended to my answer. I am surprised, as well as delighted, when this happens...."
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