Siddhartha

I think it's a book about how wisdom can't be taught, and comes only from experience, from trying things, from getting outside of your comfort zone. But then clearly doesn't take its central premise too seriously, because the only reason to write such a book would be to try and impart wisdom. In fact, the last chapter is the main character espousing his philosophy to his friend, whom we are told finally sees the narrator as a wise, holy man.

But that's a little dour. There are things to like about this book, and among them the thing I liked the best was in fact that we shouldn't go chasing people who claim to have figured it all out. At one point, Siddhartha meets a (the?) Buddha, and flat out tells Buddha that he's disinterested in any teachings. There's something nice there about being your own person.

Another theme of the book is that you can learn from anybody, and the book parades a series of unlikable characters at us, from whom Siddhartha presumably learns things. These relationships aren't particularly fleshed out, and we are told that Siddhartha learns things, but we are never shown. It feels as though Hesse wanted the main character to learn to become a complete human, but didn't himself know what that would look like, so he sorta just waves his hands and hopefully distracts us. Among these characters are a childhood friend, a wandering ascetic, a courtesan and a BUSINESS MAN. The courtesan is presented as the love of Siddhartha's life, but as best I can tell, the two of them just have a lot of sex and like to wear fancy clothes.

Maybe it's a generational thing?

However, the last third of the book has Siddhartha living with an old ferryman, with whom he becomes great friends (and maybe lovers?) This is the only relationship in the book with any sense of verisimilitude, just two old men living and working together, having lost the people in their lives who meant the most to them.

And also they have a daily chat with the river about the meaning of life. And the river teaches them a lot of things. It's silly, but I guess you need some sort of narrative device SOMEWHERE.

The ending is disappointing. Our narrator has become holy and wise, and he talks a lot about how the world just /is/, and we should accept it as it is, without trying to change it, or without striving for anything but inner peace. I've said it before and I'll say it again — this is a fucking terrible moral. NO, the world isn't perfect, and we should strive to make it better. If you can make it a little bit better, you have made it a little bit better TIMES ALL HUMANS WHO WILL EVER COME AFTER YOU. This whole “accept the world as it is” shit is awful, and one of the most insidiously evil ideas there has ever been.

All in all, I think I would have loved this book (minus the ending) if I had read it a decade sooner, in my impressionable earlier years. There are some good insights here, but they're the sorts of things that you'll learn with age anyway — and if you accept the premise of the book, can't learn any other way.