I always seem to rejoice when I stumble upon expressions denoting the incapacity of words to formulate thoughts. I sometimes tend to quote them justifying my incompetence in assessing a book or writing its review.

“Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish.” says Siddhartha to his old friend Govinda in the last chapter of the book. My brain synapses started propelling biological confetti soon after reading these two lines, just as they did last time I read John Green’s “my thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.” or Jean-Paul Sartre’s “most of the time, because of their failure to fasten on to words, my thoughts remain misty and nebulous.”

I really am blank because what the book communicates is not communicable. Yet Herman Hesse made it both simple and straightforward, something I appreciated because the nature of the topic isn’t. Siddhartha’s uneasiness and chronic agitation to find the Self did not create a barrier between his thoughts and the reader’s. On the contrary, he was quite transparent throughout his transitory phases.

I will not claim that life is changed or remolded in any noticeable way because I read this book. Besides, all is transitory like Siddhartha says. However, some of the book’s insights will linger around in my earthly psyche, that’s for sure.