3,5 αστεράκια
Λίγο με απώθησε στην αρχή, αλλά στη συνέχεια αποκτά ενδιαφέρον. Μεταφέρει κάποια μηνύματα ή μάλλον διδαχες που σε βάζουν σε σκέψεις. Γλυκό παραμυθάκι με ένα βαθύτερο νόημα!!

I taught this book to juniors, and when I did I became frustrated with a student when I introduced it, because he let his classmates know that he'd already read it and it sucked. I'm happy to report, now that we've finished it, that his comments didn't seem to hurt the class's opinion of the book too badly. In fact, that student himself said it was pretty good and that he'd only skimmed it the last time he read it. Lousy kids.... Another student said it was his favorite book that we'd read so far. And that it made him want to quit school and start living. I guess that's praise for the book...

The book is divided pretty neatly into thirds, and that's how we broke it up as a class. The first third is the main character (who is a contemporary of Siddhartha Gotama, the Buddha) as a youth; he is smart and talented and loved by all. He's a prodigy in all things intellectual and religious, but he's not satisfied, he's not happy. So he ends up pursuing a spiritual path through extreme self-deprivation. This part is easy enough for my students, as they're young themselves, and part of Siddhartha's growing up is leaving home and striking out on his own path. They're really (I hope) in much the same circumstance, starting to find a path for themselves that may be independent from their parents.

The second portion of the novel is harder. Siddhartha gives up his ascetic way of life and now indulges in all the pleasures he formerly eschewed. He learns all about sex from a courtesan, he becomes a wealthy businessman, eventually he becomes a conoisseur of fine food and wine, and a heavy gambler to boot. He loses himself in this life and eventually realizes how unhappy he is. His religious training, of course, always told him that these things were worthless, and he finds that these comforts do not, in fact, make him happy. I figured the students would find this far harder to relate to than I did, but as so often I am, I was wrong. By and large, they seemed to like this section as well as--or better than--the first. Maybe it was all the sex (not that it was even remotely graphic), even though they didn't actually know what a courtesan is. Many of them come from wealthy backgrounds, so maybe they have first-hand experience (sort of) in the ways that wealth isn't really satisfying. Or maybe they've just heard that over and over in our culture, that money doesn't buy happiness. Anyway, they seemed to like it well enough.

The third section was almost certainly a harder sell. It was hard for me to sell myself on it! But Siddhartha leaves his life of luxury, nearly commits suicide over his unhappiness, and ends up becoming a simple (or not-so-simple) ferryman on a river. This section is far more full of more-or-less eastern (a touch of curry: it's eastern-flavored, with strong hints of Nietzsche as well) thought and spirituality. It's tougher to really understand or get into, though the essence isn't that hard: you have to experience things for yourself, and real wisdom can be the result of this experience, but it's not really possible to communicate that wisdom. That's your Reader's Digest condesnsed version, which I shouldn't even give because it's necessarily a distortion. Read the book if you want to know it. Anyway, to round out my discussion of class discussion, I think the momentum from the earlier parts of the book carried us through, as they seemed to like the book as a whole and liked even the more dense third section as well.

"Siddhartha? Am I, Govinda, still such a dumbshit that even in my advanced age I do not recognize thee yet again and must I continually play the fool for the didactic purposes of this story, even though my hair is grey and my travels many?"

"Perhaps it is so, my oldest friend. But I do not judge Mr. Hesse too harshly. He is yet one of the many voices in the stream of life. He is trying to distill the voices of humanity into a great Om of pidgen, monotonal kitsch language and dialogue, and does so repetitively, so that the great masses might hear his message."

"Ah, my old friend Siddhartha, it makes sense to me now. Although it does seem to me that a great number of Buddhist terms are placed in our mouths by Mr. Hesse without sufficient explanation of them for the uninitiated, but I suppose context is everything."

"Tis so. But again, do not judge him too much. This was but a baby step in teaching those in the West about the ways of the East. And, quite frankly, Mr. Hesse rather rocks for allowing me to repeatedly taste of the nectar of the finest courtesan, she whose mouth is like a fig."

I read this book yet again today, and discovered another layer of truth. A masterpiece that's written in such a simple language, the book deals in great depth with some of the most complex philosophical, spiritual, and psychological themes, without having to get into intricate framework that these areas typically demand in order to achieve something meaningful.

This is the story of Siddhartha. The story of a full circle of life. The story of everyone; each one of us. The story of a stream of constant realization that creeps in each one of us as we age; of the things in the past, and the emotions attached, and the balance in the larger ecosystem; all that we did not understand until we switched places to be the one on the other side.

This is a story of the complexity in the simplicity of life, and a story of the simplicity in the complexity of life. A story of growing younger in terms of knowing nothing, and a story of growing older in terms of knowing more. A story of how important friendship and companionship are; and a story of how worthless the attachments in the large scheme of overall life are. The story of a meeting place of Atman & Parmatman, and the story of the place of their separation. The story of quest for knowledge, and the story of living in ignorance.

Pure, melodic, poetic, this book should be one of the first ones on the list for every serious reader.

Set on the Gangetic Plain some 2,600 years ago, Siddhartha is about one man's search for enlightenment. Siddhartha, son of a Brahmin, even in the presence of Gautama Buddha himself, is unable to find a way if it depends on the teachings of others. There is, Siddhartha comes to believe, no single illuminated path for all men and women to follow. We must each of us make our own mistakes. We must all suffer, and no warning against it will ever help us. For to live some kind of bizarre life of comfort that prevents suffering also prevents our finding peace. The novel's especially illuminating if you have some understanding of Vedic Religion and how it fed developments in Buddhism, Hinduism and Jainism. The writing style is very honed, lean, without abstruse digressions. It fulfills for me the fundamental requirement of all good fiction: that it reveal a fully imagined world. And isn't that what we really require from narrative: that it takes us out of ourselves; that, to paraphrase John Gardner (The Art of Fiction, Grendel, Mickelsson's Ghosts, Nickel Mountain, October Light, etc.), it perpetuates the dream? Highly recommended. I much prefer it to Steppenwolf. Up next Journey to the East and The Glass Bead Game.

Lately, even before I read this book, I was noticing some book opinion that "I-would-like-this-book-better-at-my-younger-age", especially  Cecily's review about The Alchemist  that I couldn't agree more. I cannot help myself comparing this book with The Alchemist, although Siddharta is the better one. I believe if I read this ten years ago, I could appreciate more about the plot. But there is a Catch-22 situation: ten years ago, I don't know enough to appreciate the Vedic jargons on the book.

The plot is obviously the journey of spiritual enlightenment. Of course I have no issue with The Buddhism (and other Vedic in general) philosophies in the story. If readers interested with the philosophy discussed on this book, there are non-fiction books that discuss them for real.

But the ending, I don't like it. Majority of the book is struggling with philosophy and then the ending... It was such a magical ending without enlightening experience for readers similar with The Alchemist, reminding me how I felt cheated. I could get more revelation reading a pulp fiction of a murder mystery fiction.

PS: I have an opinion. The plot of Siddharta is basically YA fiction. How come publishers never publish this book as YA fiction with catchy cover art? :P

How happy we are with the life we are so busy in living?
And how busy we are in thinking all other worldly doings than life itself….
And here Hermann’s Sidhartha points a score over us.
When we look back into years that have passed, the moments that are gone, the memories fading away swiftly, and new ones forming in their place with equal swift, what all these counts are wanting is the incidence of inner-peace. It might be there, ensnared, crumpled, and terse but we never partook the uttermost sense of being at peace...did we?
The novella drags along three main themes, of enlightenment, inner-peace and Love..
Sidhartha is never at peace with heart, continually in search of enlightenment and always in midst of loved-or-not-loved. His transformative journeys from a Hindu to ascetic to Samana to Buddhist to ferry man and a man-enlightened Is encapsulated with such brilliance and precision that nothing is left untouched neither is said unnecessary.
Hermann proves to be annoying at certain moments no doubt, the immaturities of Sidhartha’s resolves, the allegedly high claims of him to be superior over others, the insatiable quest of something apparently of no existence and unnecessary philosophy-loaded dialogues of every other person are just tainting the sheer beauty of rhetoric.
coming toward the essential philosophy preached in whole story,
Siddhartha proposes that one must find “unity” in all of the world: “And all of the voices, all the goals, all the yearnings, all the sorrows, all the pleasures, all the good and evil, all of them together was the world.” (135)
This approach completely dismisses the reality that life is of constant conflict and one’s goal should be to struggle against injustice – rather than ignoring it. This philosophy inherently teaches passivity, which is dangerous and destructive. Sure Siddhartha may have achieved peace next to the river, but the merchant continued to rob, the elites continued to exploit, and the poor continued to go hungry. In this light, Siddhartha’s world outlook is both naïve and hardly instrumentive to bringing about a better world.
The world we can make a better place to live in, better than some imaginary eternal happy fields, and better than the scriptures proposes it to be...

Sometimes you happen to find the right book at the right moment in your life and it just seems to fall into a place in your mind and fill a space so perfectly like a puzzle piece.

Siddhartha is a man with three talents: he can think; he can wait; he can fast. When asked what is the good of fasting, he replies:

It is very good, sir. If a person has nothing to eat, then fasting is the wisest thing he can do. If, for instance, Siddhartha had not learned how to fast, he would have to accept any service today, whether with you or someone else, for hunger would force him to do so. But now Siddhartha can calmly wait, he knows no impatience, he knows no plight. He can stave off hunger for a long time and he can laugh at it. That, sir, is what fasting is good for.

Hesse has gotten right to the bottom of it. Fear is the destroyer of happiness. Paths taken out of desperation do not lead one to fulfillment. It is best to be patient and choose wisely.

Siddhartha is a story of discovery, of searching for meaning and finding one's way in life. It is filled with Buddhist mysticism, and despite this (I consider myself a strict scientific rationalist), I found this thoroughly insightful and thought provoking. It is not Siddhartha's mystical conclusions that are important, it is the process of self-discovery, the search for wisdom, the questions asked, the quest for what *truly* satisfies the spirit.

Hermann Hesse is fast becoming one of my favourite writers. I loved Steppenwolf, and the title characters in these two books could not be more different! Hesse writes with simplicity, yet manages to impart such depth of thought. This characters have a real internal life without being overly introspected or endlessly analytical.

Этот роман является введением в буддистскую и индуистскую философию для людей далеких от них, написанный языком, понятным для обычных людей. Молодой брахман Сиддхартха ведет поиск мудрости, истязая себя аскезой, учился голодать, научился благоговейному почитанию и теперь должен воспринимать его, как препятствие на пути к высочайшему смыслу. Своей цели Сиддхартха достигает только после того, как открывается навстречу духовной и телесной сторонам жизни, преодолевает в себе отчаяние. Он учился у Камалы любви, учился торговать. Он преодолевает я, опирается на самость – психологическую опору любой религии. Роман-становление, основанный на древней легенде о Гаутаме-Будде.
Брахманы знали все – от сотворения мира, но что проку в знаниях, если не знаешь самого важного? Упанишады говорят: душа твоя – весь мир. Дивная мудрость заключена в словах. Хотел постичь свое я, освободиться от него, загадка, что есть он один, единственный. Ни об одной вещи он не знает меньше, чем о себе, о Сиддхартхе.
В старости, он приходит к мысли, что он скатился вниз, невежественный, с пустотою внутри. «Ты катишься вниз», - сказал он себе и увидел реку, катящую воды вниз. Его путь был извилист, прошел через столько пороков и порогов, только для того, чтобы стать ребенком. Он сражался со своим «Я», он был исполнен высокомерия, всегда одухотворенный, священнослужитель или мудрец, в этой одухотворенности скрывалось его «я», поэтому он должен был уйти в мир, покуда не умрет в нем священнослужитель и самана. Недолговечен Сиддхартха, недолговечны воплощения. Кто способен постичь реку, тот поймет философию. Река бежит вниз, но при этом стоит на месте, все время меняется, но все время одна и та же. Река ему друг, река с ним говорит. Река для людей была помехой, и нужен был перевозчик, чтобы преодолеть эту преграду. Но нашлись несколько человек, для кого, река не была преградой. Каждая волна, каждая капля стремятся к разным целям – водопаду, озеру, морю, и каждая достигала цели. Из воды выбивается туман, поднимается к небу, низвергается дождем на землю, становится источником и снова течет к своим целям.
Прекрасная книга с глубоким смыслом.

Siddhartha was growing up surrounded with love… But his mutinous mind didn’t let him be at rest… It made him seek… What is verity? Where it can be found?

Did not the ancient source of all springs flow within his own heart? This was what must be found, the fountainhead within one’s own being; you had to make it your own! All else was searching, detour, confusion.

He decides to choose a way of asceticism… There he finds no final wisdom… He visits Gautama… No final wisdom… And now his inner self awakens…

He looked around as if seeing the world for the first time. How beautiful it was, how colorful, how strange and mysterious! Here was blue, here was yellow, here was green; sky and river were flowing; forests and mountains stood fixed: Everything was beautiful, everything mysterious and magical, and in the midst of all this was he, Siddhartha, in the moment of his awakening, on the path to himself.

So now he studies in the school of life… He befriends a courtesan… He participates in trading… He loses himself in the mire of routine… And now he must find a way out…

Most people are like a falling leaf as it twists and turns its way through the air, lurches and tumbles to the ground. Others, though – a very few – are like stars set on a fixed course; no wind can reach them, and they carry their law and their path within them.

The meaning of life doesn’t hide from us, it is in everything we touch and see.

Has it ever happened to you that you are standing, facing a magnificent, breathtaking view, in solitude, and a strong wind hits you in the face? You try to stay still, with eyes closed and then an involuntary smile comes across your face? This book was like that.

من هرمان هسه رو دوست ندارم. به دلایل متعدد. از جمله به خاطر کلی گویی کردنش، به جای داستان تعریف کردن. و به خاطر زیاد شاعرانه نوشتنش. و به خاطر ساده نگریش به عرفان و فلسفه. معادل خیلی مناسبش در ادبیات خودمون، نادر ابراهیمیه. نویسنده ای که نهایتاً تا سن بیست سالگی می تونست من رو جذب کنه، اما نه بعد از اون. بعد از اون دیگه دورۀ داستایوسکی بود.

البته کتاب بخش های خوب هم فراوان داره، اما نهایتاً چیزی که توی ذهن آدم می مونه، کلیت کتابه نه بخش های زیبای اون. از جمله بخش های زیبای کتاب، بخش سقوط سیذارتهاست که هر چند خودش رو فساد ناپذیر می دونه، کم کم در مادیات غرق میشه و تبدیل به موجودی میشه که خودش هم ازش بیزاره و با غرق شدن بیشتر میخواد از این موجود فرار کنه.