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| ***1/2 Stars |
I really like Hermann Hesse which is why it is a shame that I read Steppenwolf directly after Goldmund and Narziss. My own predilections got in the way of fully enjoying this book. The entire time I was reading Steppenwolf I kept battling with the feeling of 'didn’t I just come from here?' That is not to say that Hesse is a hack, obviously not. It’s just the motifs are all the same. As a reader I can't read Slaughter House Five and then Cat’s Cradle consecutively. Or Post Office and then Factotum. Or Valis and then The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch. I'm fickle.
Anyway, the similarities in Steppenwolf and Goldmund and Narziss range from the themes of duality and compliment, modernity and coming of age as well as his usual concerns about sex and death. All of this is told in a style which oscillates between a conversational tone and philosophical, flowery digression.
What is different about this book is that there is also some very literate prose and a progressive plot structure (i.e. a story within a story, surrealist touches and faux-academic pontificating). Almost as though Hesse wanted to make sure people knew he could write in a sophisticated, modern style. A “for the record” comment to his peers?
The other concern present here is existential suffering. Even though I was not inside the text as much as I would like I was still touched by the way Hesse wrestled with the classic existential motif of 'the absurdity of life.' I believed he was genuinely caught up in this dilemma and authentically brought to life the tension between introspection and the job of getting on with living your life. Hesse strongly presented this dilemma and it was made all the more moving by the biographical nature of the book.
To cap all that off the ending was also solid. Just like Siddhartha and Goldmund and Narziss there is a logical ending which looks back on where the protagonist has been. So even though I did not enjoy reading Steppenwolf my respect for Hesse is intact. The book starts out with a discussion about dealing with suicidal ideation ("All suicides have the responsibility of fighting against the temptation of suicide.") and ends with the protagonist proudly offering himself to an executioner (for atonement) which only leads to him being lampooned ("Of course! When it’s a question of anything stupid and pathetic and devoid of humour and wit, you’re the man"). This is Hesse putting his foot down and saying it is always better to go on despite yourself. And most of all, not to take it all so seriously even though all our lives we tell ourselves that being heavy is the correct way to act.
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