Steppenwolf

This will be the most biased review of all time. I think I've discovered the book at the perfect time in my life (as I hit an all-time low in my mid-to-late 20s). I think a more successful version of myself, would have instantly discarded it whole, rated it as "too pretentious". If I was 16 I'd have said "bruh this Hesse is trippin frfr". And if I was in my 50s, I'd have said the main character is too much of a bitch. Even if I'd read a copy without the contextualized mini-biography, I'd have probably liked it a lot less. Genuinely just a perfect shitstorm of events.

It's almost as if the goal of the book is for you to outgrow it. Sure, there's literary merit to it all. The story keeps you gripped, the characters are okay, and it's generally unique. I assume someone well versed in eastern spirituality would find plenty of little parallels to Hinduism, an art student might find the outward sexuality and drug abuse hecking stunning and brave.

The main character is strangely relatable (but I assume this would be rare for most people... I hope). He's a man operating in the intellectual circles, with his inner life oscillating between a sense of superiority to the people around him, and inferiority to his heroes. All this, while never finding enjoyment in the little things (that hits hard). Analyzing great works of art(the irony) instead of just enjoying them. And just generally being miserable, even with moments of him being pleasant to be around. The bit about constantly feeling suicidal also hit like a truck. The author somehow understood this feeling of being liberated by your impending suicide, but not completely, and putting it off, constantly suffering in this cycle. Setting dates (the MC resolves to kill himself on his 50th birthday), then postponing it while also having no real allegiance to your body and soul (you're gonna die anyway, might as well stay addicted to this thing), etc. I've never come across this in any story before.

In his mind, all this misery has a logical reason. He has a split personality! All his bad traits can be attributed to the steppe wolf within him. But the book being self-aware, and exposing this as a simplification, and only scratching at the truth, that's why it's so good.

But out of all this misery, it all finds a positive note. Can't get into spoilers, or how the "story" ends, but it does give you a sense of

"It's not too late".

You don't know what's true or what's made up, but it doesn't matter because the book gets its point across pretty well.

I think I've illustrated the emotion it made me feel, so I'll try to be a bit objective now.

- The book constantly uses symbolism, dreams and drug trips to get its point across
- The prose might be a bit pretentious, but still enjoyable
- The story likely does not hold up without emotional investment into the main character
- At points, the symbolism gets kind of overwhelming (figurines, technology, infinite personalities, time isn't real???)

I'd recommend it to anyone that's feeling kind of lost, feeling isolated, but unlike most books with this kind of character, it's not trying to teach you how to be outwardly accepted. It's to teach you how to accept yourself, and go at life with humor.

I've read Siddhartha twice and found Steppenwolf opposite in many ways. Whereas Siddhartha was closely organized in chapters that corresponded to Buddhist truths and paths, this is basically a long drug addled diary entry. Also while Siddartha is set in ancient India and seeks spiritual perfection this is about seeking earthly delights in the author's contemporary German speaking realm. Despite the setting, it's much more difficult to grasp than Siddartha.

There is a brief introduction by the finder of the manuscript, some sort of literary device to present an objective description about the protagonist's stay in the nondescript town where the "story" takes place before you delve into the mad subjectivity of the "author".

The "story" in the first half builds up the lone wolf image and this tension between it and modern middle class society. Then in the second half it tears it down and smashes it into a thousand pieces. I got the message that the personality isn't easily divided into 2 or 3 parts, but is made up of thousands of different strands and types.

I can see how some people could relate to the intellectual lone wolf of the first half or the hedonistic counter culture party animal of the second half. Or both. And this book is deeply immersed in the German culture of the time - I'd need to understand better Jung, Nietzsche, Mozart, et al. as well as the Indian influence on German culture to have more clarity, though I think that part lack of clarity was intended. So this book didn't really speak to me in a way. However, I appreciated the journey and am interested in more.