Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Thoughts: Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse
Here is the summary from Goodreads: Born son of a Brahmin, Siddhartha was blessed in appearance, intelligence & charisma. In order to find meaning in life, he discarded his promising future for the life of a wandering ascetic. Still, true happiness evaded him. Then a life of pleasure & titillation merely eroded away his spiritual gains until he was just like all the other "child people," dragged around by his desires.
Where do I even begin talking about Siddhartha? This post is probably going to be very short, because I’m coming clean. Right here, right now. I did not understand the book at all. Sometimes, I felt like I did, but I was never sure, ya know? It felt like the book’s true meaning was within reach, but it always escaped my grasp. Once again, I’m going to say that perhaps I would’ve understood more with an annotated edition.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not dissing the book, since I know it’s supposed to be meaningful and a significant commentary on the HUMAN EXPERIENCE, but, dude, where was the story? I’m the type of reader who reads for entertainment, and, if I learn something along the way, that’s fabulous. But Siddhartha wasn’t a story. It was a treatise on religion (I’m not even sure about this) and living wrapped in a thin piece of tissue paper known as story.
This is one of those books I hope to reread someday, when I’m older and hopefully a little more mature. Who knows? I might like it more next time. Like it? Who am I kidding? The best I can hope for is that I might understand it.