I read Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse as part of my Nobel literature project. Hesse received the Nobel in 1946. Siddhartha was published in 1922. I was glad to read a German author in Germany. I downloaded it from Project Gutenberg (translated by Gunther Olesch, Anke Dreher, Amy Coulter, Stefan Langer, and Seymon Chaichenets) and read it on my e-reader, which has completely changed the way I read while I travel. No more heavy paper books in my luggage, or reading things just because they are lightweight and expendable, not because I care about reading them. I love you, e-reader, Project Gutenberg, and local public library e-book menagerie!
The novella’s Siddhartha is not the Buddha, but he lives at the same time and interacts with the Buddha (called Gotama in the book), and he does seek and find enlightenment. I had trouble starting the story, but I got wrapped up in it in the end. There was little to care about in the beginning. The characters are fairly undifferentiated, and there is a small conflict between Siddhartha and his father, who does not want him to become an ascetic. In many ways, the main lesson of the book are trite: you have to experience life yourself and can only learn so much from others. This lesson comes up early in the book (Siddhartha basically says it in so many words to Gotama), but the story takes some unexpected turns after it. Soon after he first talks about it, Siddhartha seems almost unbearably smug, but he ends up losing his way and finding it later.
I found the writing somewhat stilted, which may have been the translation (there were several typos in it as well). I enjoyed the book, but I’m probably not going to prioritize more Hesse.
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