The story was rather difficult to some extent.

I didn't understand that this story relates the growth of the soul and its passage through different stages of life.

It seems that the author intended to convey a profound message about the human experience and the journey of self-discovery.

Perhaps with more careful reading and analysis, one could uncover the hidden meanings and themes within the story.

However, at first glance, it appeared to be a complex and somewhat mysterious narrative.

Nonetheless, it piqued my curiosity and made me want to explore it further to gain a better understanding of its significance.

Overall, the story presented a challenge, but also held the promise of revealing something truly meaningful about the nature of life and the human spirit.

When I first delved into The Journey to the East during my youthful days, I was entirely unprepared for its profound essence. Having recently reread it, I must admit that I still find myself lacking in complete readiness. However, I can at least claim to be a little closer to that state of preparedness. I hold the hope that one day, I will truly be ready, and when that moment arrives, I will peruse its pages and don a wise smile of comprehension. I suspect that within that smile, there will also be a sense of peace and contentment, and I will finally know who I am and the purpose of my existence here. But for the present, I can only appreciate the wisdom that I only half-grasp.

Perhaps you, dear reader, believe that I truly understand. That was precisely what I thought when I first read it, for I could decipher the words printed on the page. But that is merely further evidence of my initial lack of readiness. Now, armed with the awareness that I am still not fully prepared, I find myself closer than I was when I mistakenly believed I understood.

I sense a kinship with H.H. His flaws mirror my own, and his desires are mine as well, especially his longing to document his journey. And his despair echoes my own. Unlike Demian and Siddhartha, this is not a book meant for the young. The Journey to the East chronicles the failure of H.H., not only the failure he acknowledges but also the one he remains oblivious to. And it is this unrecognized failure that is the more serious of the two.

Rereading this book now, at the same age as Hesse was when he published it, I must confess my own abandonment of the journey, my own forgetfulness and unfaithfulness to the league. Figuratively speaking, I even sold my violin. And now, I yearn to return. Perhaps my poetic creations, humble as they may be, will one day become more real than I am. Perhaps they already are, and when the last vestige of myself flows into them, I will be able to lie down and slumber peacefully.

The knowledge struck me like a ray of light and in that same instant a verse that I had learned in my novice year and always loved, and which seemed extraordinary to me, although I could never fully grasp its entire truth, awoke in my heart. It was a verse by the poet Novalis: „Whither do we tend? Always homeward.\\"

I asked the servant Leo why it happened that artists sometimes appeared to us only as mere fragments of men, while the images they created seemed so undeniably alive. Leo looked at me, surprised by my question. Then he put down the poodle that he had been holding in his arms and said:

„The same thing happens with mothers. After they have brought their children into the world and given them their milk, their beauty, and their strength, they become insignificant and no one is interested in them anymore.\\"

„But that's sad,\\" I said, without really thinking too much about what I had heard. „I don't think it's any sadder than all the other things,\\" said Leo. „Maybe it's both sad and beautiful at the same time. That's the way the law is.\\" „The law?\\" I asked, curiously. „What kind of law, Leo?\\"

„It's the law of service. Whoever wants to have a long life must serve. But whoever wants to be a master shortens his days.\\"

„Then why do so many people strive to become masters?\\"

„Because they don't know what awaits them. Only a few are born to be masters, and they can do it and still preserve their vitality and health. But the others, those who have become masters only through ambition, all end up in nothingness.\\"

„In what kind of nothingness, Leo?\\"

„For example, in sanatoriums.\\"

The preface has an impact that apparently the translator added from a certain source. This preface or its translation - or both - is so dense that it doesn't add anything but confusion. Of course, some readable topics are raised in it: the presence of characters and real-life locations in the story and the relationship between drugs and these inner journeys. These two points may be the only ones that came to my hand in this relatively long preface and the rest had nothing but anger from the resulting ambiguity.

However, the work itself in the position of translation doesn't touch the heart. It wasn't bad but it had many points of ambiguity. Sometimes it seemed that the sentences should have been in a different way so that a conclusive meaning could be drawn from them. Of course, probably the original text also had ambiguities and not all should be seen from the translator's perspective.

But despite all this, the work has had an impact, at least for me, it is charming. For me, it is reminiscent of the memories I have of the eastern journey in my mind - even if I don't reach myself much in this collection now. But this was enough to express my satisfaction with this work openly. This work is one of those works that I have mingled with its details and reaped the fruits. It is one of those works that I would like to quote from and of course sometimes maybe not according to the author's original intention.

I thoroughly enjoyed the simple ease of this novel.

It was a refreshing read that didn't overcomplicate things. The story flowed smoothly, taking me on a journey that was both engaging and relaxing.

The characters were well-developed, and I found myself easily connecting with them. Their emotions and experiences felt真实, making me invested in their lives.

The writing style was简洁明了, yet still managed to convey the necessary details and atmosphere. It didn't bog me down with excessive descriptions or convoluted plotlines.

This novel was a perfect escape from the hustle and bustle of daily life. It allowed me to unwind and lose myself in a world of its own.

I would highly recommend this novel to anyone looking for a轻松愉快的 read that doesn't sacrifice quality. It's a gem that is sure to bring a smile to your face and leave you feeling satisfied.

In the books of this author, there is something that penetrates the reader and reveals itself only long after they have read them.

I have the impression that I need time to appreciate it more.

Perhaps it is the depth of the themes explored, the complexity of the characters, or the unique writing style.

Whatever it is, it leaves a lasting impression and makes me want to return to the books again and again.

Each time I read, I discover something new, something that I may have missed before.

It is like uncovering a hidden treasure, piece by piece.

I am excited to see what else this author has in store for me and how my understanding and appreciation of their work will grow over time.

The astounding vagueness of this short novel is truly remarkable. It seems to conceal a profound spiritual allegory beneath the guise of a seemingly universal message. However, it remains too cryptic for many readers to fully grasp.

When one realizes that Hesse was actively engaged in antiwar activities and was even driven out of Germany during WWI, the novel takes on new meaning. He later became a naturalized citizen of Switzerland and eventually won the Nobel Prize. Perhaps some of his writings might have benefited from a freer hand in expression.

Combining a plethora of disparate literary and historical references, dashes of wisdom, and a blurring of the line between history and fable, this novel is a chronicle of inspiration, much like many of Hesse's other works. He is clearly enchanted by the East and nostalgic for the Golden Age. Yet, the geography of the region that obsesses him remains largely a mystery. Here, we find the trademark mysticism, the prospect of a loss of faith, and the awakening of a spirit.

However, his lack of a definitive time and place, as well as the lack of defining characteristics of the "League" that provides the impetus for this journey, limit the reader's experience of the ideas Hesse wishes to explore. This shortcoming is easily overshadowed by his more complex and profound books.

Ritkán akad az ember kezébe olyan kötet, ami ennyire egyértelműen egy életmű resztlijét tartalmazza.

The journey to the East, according to central European thought, is only a prelude to Hesse's main work, The Glass Bead Game, and the Swabian Chronicle is only considered an independent work because it didn't fit into that. Nevertheless, from many points of view, these are instructive, and moreover, with their flaws (perhaps because of their flaws), attractive writings.

The journey to the East is actually the story of a documented failure – the reason for the failure being that certain experiences are simply indescribable and thus incommunicable. Now, if someone writes about something that is indescribable, the reader frowns and deducts a star. On the other hand, one might also give a star for the mere courage of the enterprise. So far, it's undecided. I'm not saying that the story of the mystical community wandering in space and time, with the League as the main character, is strange, but it gives it a certain naïve charm that Hesse tries with all his might to write himself, his friends, and his role models into the text. The very idea impresses me personally.

Let's consider that this is the period between the two world wars, the twenties. Remarque or Jünger (or beyond the national borders, Barbusse and Aldington) are preoccupied with resolving the trauma of the First World War through the description of trench warfare and the therapeutic exaggeration of hell. Hesse's writing is also characterized by the same disappointment, in my opinion: that the human mind, industry, and civilization have culminated in such a great inhumanity. However, he chooses a different path, a kind of spiritual journey, fleeing into a friendly dream world, which is structured by the special distillation of European arts and myths, as well as Eastern religions. It's true that this dream world cannot be separated from reality, and this dissonance casts a shadow throughout, but overall it's an innocent game. Which is no small thing, considering what harmful ideas the Nazis found worthy of adoption during their own spiritual "journey to the East" in the same period.

(The Swabian Chronicle is actually the same escape, only in a much more sublimated form. Here we don't directly encounter the mystical leaps in space and time, but through a much more transparent system of symbols, at the center of which is the desire to create.)

“The melody of a breeze, the rhythm of a familiar step, even the memory of a lost time can affect me so deeply. If it can give me so much happiness and so much pain, then for me, everything has changed in such a profound and wonderful way!”

Hermann Hesse also felt that I had taken too many breaks in reading. Additionally, the ending was very satisfying.

It's truly amazing how the simplest of things, like the sound of a breeze or the pattern of a well-known step, can have such a powerful impact on our emotions. These small details can bring back a flood of memories and feelings, both happy and sad. And in Hermann Hesse's words, we can sense the depth of his connection to these experiences.

The fact that he felt I had taken too many breaks in reading shows his attention to detail and his desire for a more immersive reading experience. However, despite this, he still found the ending to be very satisfying, which speaks volumes about the quality of the work.

Overall, Hermann Hesse's words remind us of the importance of paying attention to the little things in life and how they can shape our perception of the world around us.

I accidentally came across this little book in the bookshelf of the vacation cottage where I stayed for a weekend. It's intriguing and interesting, definitely worth reading if you have a few hours with nothing to do.

"Often I think that the entire world history is nothing but a picture book in which the most intense and blind desire of people is reflected: the desire to forget."

"Death was no longer nothing for me, no emptiness, no negation. Many other things had also changed. I endured the hours of despair now as you endure severe physical pain: you bear it, complaining or stubbornly, you feel how it swells and increases, and you feel a sometimes furious, sometimes scornful curiosity about how far it can still go, how much worse the pain can become."

"Our journey to the Orient and the community that was its foundation, our bond, has been the most important, the only important thing in my life, something beside which my own person seemed completely worthless. And now that I want to record and hold on to this most important thing, or at least something of it, everything only consists of a large number of images that fall apart like shards and have been reflected in something, and that something is my own self, and that self, the mirror turns out to be nothing wherever I want to consult it, only the top layer of a glass plate."

Hermann Hesse is someone I love very, very much. With his descriptions, I travel to other places in the world he creates. The places I claim to have gone are actually my own past, the events I have lived through exactly, and whatever it is in my inner world that makes me who I am, the aspects that I can only show and confess to myself, my encounters, the slaps I give myself while reading. It is there that this wonderful unity of expression reflects me back to myself so beautifully. I am truly intoxicated in each of his works.

With the level of joy that finishing a new book brings, I would actually like to crown this work not with 5 but with infinite stars. The only reason for me to rate it with a single star as an unfair deficiency is that "Journey to the East" starts with the feeling as if it is a chapter taken from an even greater and more extensive work. And it ends very quickly. We dive into the heart of the subject and then end suddenly. I would have liked this work to be much more detailed and to merge more with its world. However, we are expected to be content with its short form.

The end of the book is amazing. It exposes the reader to a huge mental game and causes you to keep coming back to it even after the book is finished. My strong recommendation is with the wish that the only meaningful use of violence in our lives is also in this form.

Every time I read Hesse, I realize what a great writer he is.

His works are filled with profound insights into human nature, the search for meaning in life, and the exploration of the inner self.

Hesse's writing style is both beautiful and engaging, drawing the reader in and making them feel as if they are a part of the story.

Whether it is "Siddhartha," "Steppenwolf," or "Demian," each of his novels offers a unique perspective on the human condition and challenges the reader to think deeply about their own lives.

Reading Hesse is not just an entertainment, but also a journey of self-discovery and growth.

His words have the power to inspire, comfort, and transform, making him one of the most important and influential writers of the 20th century.

I feel truly fortunate to have discovered his works and look forward to reading more of them in the future.