Narcissus and Goldmund (German: Narziß und Goldmund; also published as Death and the Lover) is a novel written by the German–Swiss author Hermann Hesse which was first published in 1930. At its publication, Narcissus and Goldmund was considered Hesse's literary triumph; chronologically, it follows Steppenwolf.
(...) anziché condurre una vita pulita in disparte dal mondo, con le mani lavate, e formarsi un bel giardino di pensieri pieno d'armonia, e camminare senza peccato fra le sue aiuole protette. Era forse più difficile, più valoroso e più nobile camminare con le scarpe logore per i boschi e per le strade maestre (...).
essere monaci della mondanità
"Io ti prendo sul serio quando sei Boccadoro. Ma tu non sei sempre Boccadoro. Io non mi auguro altro se non che tu divenga Boccadoro in tutto e per tutto. Tu non sei un erudito, tu non sei un monaco....per far un erudito ed un monaco basta una stoffa meno preziosa della tua. Tu credi che ti giudichi troppo poco erudito, troppo poco logico, o troppo poco pio. No, per me sei troppo poco te stesso" ---- sense and sensibility (per la contrapposizione) ma gay e in una germania medievale
Narciso e Boccadoro si presenta come un viaggio interiore sulle possibilità della vita attraverso l’amicizia dei due protagonisti. Hesse ha creato con un periodare lungo e disteso, un confronto tra le scelte della vita e della vocazione partendo dall’assunto, implicito, che ogni uomo ha una vocazione e scoprirla permette di vivere la vita al cento per cento. La storia si dipana proprio nella ricerca della vocazione, quella dei protagonisti in primis, ma anche quella del lettore che può, attraverso i dialoghi, intraprendere un proprio viaggio verso ciò che gli abita dentro.
‘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 …
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.
——————
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?’
Non mi è parso affatto un libro sull'amicizia, ma piuttosto un inno alla vita. Il mio giudizio potrebbe essere viziato dal fatto che ho letto questo libro superficialmente: infatti, Hesse è abile a scrivere (all'inizio ad esempio riesce a trasmettere l'immagine di Boccadoro senza nemmeno descriverlo, e non è affatto prolisso, pleonastico o altro, anche se non è certo sublime come altri: non qui, almeno), ma mi è sembrato prendersi davvero troppo sul serio (sono sempre le stesse cose trite e ritrite sulla bellezza della vita in tutti i suoi aspetti ecc. ecc.): mi ha stufato molto presto (diciamo alla terza pagina), e certo non ho potuto apprezzare la prosa (né altro). Finire questo libro mi è costato molta fatica, e molto tempo: ben tre giorni. Voto complessivo: 5.
