Narcisse et Goldmund

Freud would have had a field day with this one…

‘All existence seemed to be based on duality, on contrast.’

I was initially sucked into this because of the contrast between Narcissus, the stereotypical intellectual and Goldmund, the lover (or artist)—but it was so much more than just this!

Narcissus becomes to Goldmund what the iron rod was to Phineas Gage. He breaks in Goldmund to rid him of his Father’s influence and allows him to welcome in memories of his mother—a rouge woman of sorts, which his father spent years keeping away from his son’s mind. Embracing his mother’s spirit, he succumbs to his desires and begins life as a wanderer. Instead of learning the world through scripture and asceticism, he chooses to give his senses authority to lead him. Place to place he wanders, jumping from this women to another with (ironically) no attachment to anything worldly. But he’s not just a hedonistic man who seeks pleasure, his sin is his way of studying the world. While Narcissus consults his scriptures, Goldmund consults his senses. He believes, truly, that it is through his love that the women he encounters are ‘saved.’ From this inspection of the world, he finds it to be a despicable place—he confronts God!

First time reading Hesse and I’ll definitely be back for more.

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Best bits:

‘What would reason and sobriety be without the knowledge of intoxication? What would sensual desire be if Death were not looking over its shoulder? And what would love be without the eternal mortal antagonism of
the sexes?’

‘Was the God who had created all this evil or hostile? Did He laugh spitefully at His own creation? No, He could not be evil if He had created deer and stags, fishes and birds, the forest, the flowers, the seasons (Hesse may I interest you in some Leibniz?) But the cleft went right through His creation, whether that creation was a failure or incomplete, whether God had something special in mind with this dichotomy in human existence, or whether this was the seed of the enemy, original sin. But why should this longing and inadequacy be sin? Were they not the origin of everything beautiful and sacred that man had created and given back to God in gratitude?’

‘I have killed, I have stolen, I have whored. I have been idle and have taken away the bread of others. Dear Lord, why hast Thou created us like this, why dost Thou lead us along such paths? Are we not Thy children? Did not Thy Son die for us? Are there not saints and angels to guide us? Or are these all charming stories invented for children and laughed at by the priests themselves? I have lost faith in Thee, O Lord. Thou hast created an evil world, and Thou dost not look after it well. I have seen houses and streets filled with the dead; I have seen how the rich barricaded themselves in their houses or fled, and how the poor left their brothers unburied, each casting suspicion on the other, and how they slaughtered the Jews like cattle. I have seen so many innocent people suffer and perish, and so many wicked ones wallowing in luxury. Hast Thou then quite forgotten and deserted us? Canst Thou no longer tolerate Thy creation? Dost Thou want us all to perish?’

This is a beautifully written book. It is posed as a dialectic of sorts between two friends. Narcissus - Masculinity, Order, Rationality, Philosophy, and Goldmund - Femininity, Chaos, Passion, Art.
Throughout the story, we are mostly with Goldmund. We see how his lack of will to keep his impulses in check lead to suffering. We see how his lack of structure leads him to nihilism and hedonism. We also see him find meaning in art and beauty, and then lose it. We see Goldmund struggle. We do not see much of Narcissus at all, which is one of the reasons why I believe this text does not work as a dialectic as well as it should.
Another reason why this book did not work for me is its synthesis, its reconciliation of the two worlds.
Narcissus to Goldmund: "Yes, certainly one can think without imagining anything! Thinking and imagining have nothing whatsoever in common. Thinking is done not in images but with concepts and formulae. At the exact point where images stop, philosophy begins. That was precisely the subject of our frequent quarrels as young men; for you, the world was made of images, for me of ideas. I always told you that you were not made to be a thinker, and I also told you that this was no lack since, in exchange, you were a master in the realm of images. Pay attention and I'll explain it to you. If, instead of immersing yourself in the world, you had become a thinker, you might have created evil. Because you would have become a mystic. Mystics are, to express it briefly and somewhat crudely, thinkers who cannot detach themselves from images, therefore not thinkers at all. They are secret artists: poets without verse, painters without brushes, musicians without sound. There are highly gifted, noble minds among them, but they are all without exception unhappy men. You, too, might have become such a man. Instead of which you have, thank God, become an artist and have taken possession of the image world in which you can be a creator and a master, instead of being stranded in discontentment as a thinker."
Focus on what is being said about mystics. I can understand why such a thing is being said by Narcissus, but I do not understand why the idea is not challenged by Hesse at all. The perfect synthesis between Narcissus’ world and Goldmund’s world is a mystics world, and the only time mystics are mentioned, it is for mysticism to be dismissed without any proper reasoning. An empty statement uttered by a character we barely saw of and there it goes.
It is simply disappointing, because I know Hesse was capable of turning this work into something that transcends ordinary literature. Instead, we got a book which is, at best mediocre, at worst an exhibit of incompetence in regards to intellectual imagination. It pains me, truly!

Update: I reread this masterpiece. And it's better than I remembered it. Goldmund represents the way of the artist. There's so many times where he leaves or does something counterproductive, but that's his nature. He wouldn't be an artist, he couldn't create without those experiences. When poets or rock-stars waste their talent and lives on counterproductive things, it's the way of Goldmund. He, like many artists, dies without realizing his dream, without perfecting his art. On the positive side, he is blessed Narcissus who helps him see his true nature. Otherwise he'd be a repressed genius, forced into to a life that is not his.

One way to look at Narcissus and Goldmund is not two two separate entities, but two parts of a whole. Whether it is the characters, feelings v. reason, art v science, mind v matter, images v thoughts, intuition v logic, flesh v spirit, east v west, life v death.

Just like the cloister represents the arts, it is at odds with the authoritarian state. Commoners hold it in awe without understanding.

What is remarkable is that the novel doesn’t just make those points intellectually, but emotionally as well. As the reader you feel the artistic process: the aimless wayfaring, intense and anxious work, the satisfaction of completion and the following emptiness. The last 15 pages debunks the notion that art can eternalize the transitory, even a great work will pass and the artist feels it first. That art can unify apparent opposites is one of the realizations of the Goldmund and the reader.

There are some great scenes and it is remarkable how the male characters form Goldmund by contrast and how each female forms him by adding to his being and vision. However nothing brings change to the forefront like life – nature, spring, birth, creation - and death – murder, plague, imprisonment, ailment.

There are hints of Siddhartha and Steppenwolf here, but this is much more complete and unified then either of those two. Like Siddhartha this is a wonderful read and mediation on life. Must be a fine translation. That their is a higher purpose to the hedonism is more apparent here then in Steppenwolf.

A possible area for improvement would be to spend more time on Narcissus’ life and struggles – that would balance the work, but maybe that’s like the earth mother statue that is left in the imagination only.