Narcissus and Goldmund • Hermann Hesse

At the moment, I’m working on finishing my entire stack of unread books, finally getting to those that have been sitting on the lower end of the pile. I’ve already read a few works by Hermann Hesse, but so far, they’ve only moderately impressed me. I remember The Steppenwolf as a very successful novel, but overall, I don’t connect much with the spiritual aspects of his works. Nevertheless, Narcissus and Goldmund intrigued me — not least because of Hesse’s beautiful language, as reading his sentences is a very pleasant experience.

Narcissus and Goldmund is set in the Middle Ages and begins in the monastery of Mariabronn, where the young novice Narcissus and the student Goldmund meet. They become close friends but recognize their opposing natures. While Narcissus is the rational thinker, Goldmund turns out to be an artist yearning for sensual and worldly life. Eventually, Goldmund leaves the monastery to lead a wandering life as a (life) artist. At the heart of the novel lies the opposition between these two archetypes and life paths — between the ascetic intellectual and the man of the senses.

In this story, the reader follows Goldmund as he wanders through life, experiencing countless impressions and encounters, growing bit by bit through them, often reflecting superficially on his experiences, and eventually immersing himself in art. The story flows smoothly, is pleasant to read, and unfolds without any major dramatic arc. Still, I was always curious to see where it would all lead, and Goldmund’s wild life naturally carries something of an adventure. Goldmund soon loses touch with Narcissus, but it is clear from the start that Hesse will eventually reconnect the two. In this context, Goldmund’s life story feels somewhat constructed, as it’s obvious that Hesse aims to portray an artist driven by the pursuit of life and love. He certainly succeeds — Goldmund is indeed the embodiment of the artist type — but I found it a bit exaggerated. Moreover, I’m not sure whether life in the Middle Ages really worked that way, and whether it was so easy to seduce the female population of the countryside. Goldmund is described as a handsome young man, but that seemed a little too convenient to me. On the other hand, he’s not exactly squeamish either. All in all, his amorous adventures are quite entertaining to read.

From The Steppenwolf, I noted down numerous truly profound quotations. The book was full of thoughts I found fascinating because they touch on aspects of human nature that concern us all, and because the Steppenwolf, as an outsider, observes society from a unique perspective. I found very few such captivating thoughts in this book, perhaps because the theme of opposition between the thinker and the artist doesn’t particularly move me. Of course, the novel carries deeper layers, such as the recurring image of the “Great Mother,” who spiritually guides Goldmund and repeatedly calls him back into the world. A life as a lonely wanderer — far from the safety of a structured existence, without a permanent home, money, or recognition — naturally raises other questions and reflections. Transience, dying, and death are ever-present elements that Goldmund repeatedly encounters and that accompany him throughout his life’s journey. Overall, however, Goldmund drifts rather aimlessly through the beautiful German lands, reflecting only within certain bounds, and I didn’t find him particularly sympathetic in the end. The book didn’t evoke much empathy in me.

“Perhaps there were husbands and fathers whose faithfulness did not rob them of sensual pleasure? Perhaps there were men settled in one place whose lack of freedom and danger did not cause their hearts to wither? Perhaps. But he had never seen one.” (p. 241)

I was especially curious about the ending — about the conclusion Hesse would draw for these two fates and what his insight would be. It turns out to be rather spiritual, culminating in a striving for divine perfection through self-realization, where the “how” of this process is not decisive. I found that a bit thin, though it certainly aligns well with Hesse’s understanding of religion. Influenced by his early encounters with Hinduism and Buddhism as well as his Christian upbringing, Hesse seemed to hold a concept of God that transcended any particular religion, regarding all faiths as equally valid. That’s an individual and liberal outlook, which I find very appealing.

My edition from Suhrkamp Verlag is one of a boxed set I inherited from family. I don’t find the Suhrkamp books particularly attractive. Content-wise, there’s nothing to complain about, but these plain little volumes — with their bright and somewhat dull cover typography — aren’t exactly bibliophile treasures. The glued binding isn’t very sturdy either, and some pages have torn slightly at the bottom. By the end, I didn’t even dare to open it fully. There’s no afterword or commentary, which puts it on the lower end of the scale. However, the books are very inexpensive — The Great Novels: 7 Volumes (ISBN 9783518066966) can be found used for as little as 8 euros.

Conclusion: I’m not a Hermann Hesse fan and probably never will be. I found the book entertaining, and Hesse’s prose is a real pleasure to read. Following Goldmund’s wandering life is a small adventure in itself, though the novel lacks the depth I so enjoyed in The Steppenwolf. The contrast between the thinker and the artist is the central theme here, which Hesse portrays beautifully. Those who like Hesse will surely enjoy this novel too — but for me, it’s not one of those books one has to read.

Book information: Narcissus and Goldmund • Hermann Hesse • Suhrkamp • 305 pages