Gertrud

z hesse jest tak, że kończąc jego książki, zawsze czuję się w jakiś sposób odnaleziona w słowach i nie potrafię wystawić (nawet tej najsłabszej, jak do tej pory, przeczytanej książce) oceny niższej niż 3.75. fakt - czytałam ją od początku lipca i skończyłam dopiero tej nocy, ale końcowe zdania tak wkradły mi się do serducha, że gwiazdki od razu podskoczyły do góry

zobrazowanie trudnej przyjaźni, ekstrawertycznych i introwertycznych artystów, ciężkiej relacji rodzinnej i niekomfortowego oblicza miłości

سرد هادئ وتفصيلي يطوف بين الموسيقى والحب والألم
يكتب هيرمان هيسه بأسلوب فلسفي وشاعري عن نظرة الانسان للحياة
المشاعر والأفكار, التساؤلات والقناعات في مراحل العمر المختلفة
الراوي مؤلف موسيقي يحكي عن حياته ومحاولاته لمواجهة تقلباتها
أحواله النفسية وانتقالاته بين مشاعر الحزن والانكسار, السعادة والأمل
والقدرة على تقبُل الأحداث والمفارقات التي لا تخضع لهواه ورغباته

يصف هيسه شخصياته بمهارة ويتناول الأفكار والمعاني بسلاسة
والترجمة جميلة للمترجم أسامة منزلجي

"Passion is always a mystery and unaccountable, and unfortunately there is no doubt that life does not spare its purest children, and often it is just the most deserving people who cannot help loving those who destroy them"

While reading this magnificent book, its easy to see the influence of Novalis and Romanticism on Hermann Hesse. Its also easy to see why the author won a Nobel Prize. Gertrude is certainly one of Hesse's lesser known works, but I actually preferred it to Steppenwolf, Siddhartha, and Narcissus and Goldmund. Its not as philosophically heavy, but its packed with insight into the destructive nature of love and the helplessness of the human condition. A beautiful, and highly recommendable book.

"Even now I strongly doubt the ability of people to alter and shape their own lives and those of other people to any appreciable extent... Once can only accept what comes, although one can, to be sure, accept it in entirely different ways. As far as I was concerned, I would make no more strenuous endeavours to try and find a place in the sun, but would accept what was allotted to me, try to make the best of it and, if possible, turn it into something good"

"Muoth was right. On growing old, one becomes more contented than in one's youth, which I will not therefore revile, for in all my dreams I hear my youth like a wonderful song which now sounds more harmonious than it did in reality, and even sweeter." (215)

****

As something of a Hesse dickrider, not that this really gives me much qualification, I feel I am free to consider this "minor Hesse." Is there a word for when one's "sophomore slump" is one's third work? The issue, I guess, is that Hesse is trying harder to write about romance, when that's never quite been his strong suit in his previous two novels. There is love in Peter Camenzind and Beneath the Wheel but it's at is most interesting when it is the "bromance" between the protagonist and whatever sensitive artist-type twink dude. Then Hesse would shit out some "oh yeah, I fell in love with this chick because she bent over to make cider from apples and I kinda saw part of her boob." Which I guess is valid, but basically what I'm saying is the boy in Beneath the Wheel should have fucked the poet kid. Or something. Uh, so, anyway, Gertrude is (surprise, surprise) about a young man who finds fault in the act of living, and so distances himself from other people until he makes good friends in the singer Heinrich Muoth (the male artist of the story, an opera singer) and Gertrude Imthor (the basic-bitch of the story, who is also a singer). The "twist" that sets this apart from previous Hesse novels is that protagonist Kuhn is "differently abled" (or whatever, they say "cripple" in the book, so fuck you), so he feels alienated because of his physical differences, rather than the more "classic" Hesse method of giving normal-ish dudes a sort of soul-sickness about which they jack off all book to flex their uniqueness (I'm sounding like a cunt, but this element of Hesse is actually my favorite part of his work, so I'm essentially being self-deprecative).

I take issue with the novel's title because honestly I don't find Gertrude herself to be terribly important. Muoth is more integral to Kuhn's development. I guess we're not calling the book "Kuhn" because we already did that with Peter Camenzind, and it's not "Muoth" because we'll have Demian in a couple years. I don't know. Gertrude isn't introduced until like a quarter of the way through the novel, and she doesn't quite remain omnipresent. Kuhn tells tales of past loves, or women/girls he thought he loved, and so the relevance of Gertrude is that he (Kuhn) didn't actually know what love meant until he met her, but then he's just a fucking cuckold for the rest of the novel, friendzoned hard as fuck, and they drift away a bit. This is actually interesting, because Kuhn learns the lesson of not dwelling too much on his ideals, that he was in effect romanticizing romance through the infatuation with Gertrude, believing himself to have been different from other people, but believing Gertrude to understand him, and see through his disability, and so maybe we could say he dropped himself into a false sense of security that allowed him to fall harder for Gertrude than maybe was appropriate. Or we could be dicks and say Gertrude was a cunt for leading him on, but I wouldn't say that's exactly true. Gertrude is, however, also a victim of being in love with love, as she is extremely hesitant to divorce Muoth (their marriage brings some anguish to Kuhn, as we can imagine) because she believes he can change, or otherwise she has the courage to stick with Muoth in his decline into alcoholism and despair even if the cost is a drain on her own spirit, and anyway the marriage fizzles out, and Muoth fucking dies in the most "this novel was written in the first decade of the twentieth century" way possible, passing out drunk and vomiting blood like we're still indebted to the days when TB was called "consumption" (not that Muoth had TB, but he did die from a more literal sense of consumption...).

The best character here is Mr. Lohe, and when I say "best character" I mean "the character that best fits in with what I look for in Hesse novels," as he is the single dude spouting near-mystic self-help soul-searching hoopla. Which is what I crave from Hesse, as I've just said, and so please ignore my apparent negativity. What's odd is that Hesse, or at least Kuhn, seems not to place much weight on what Lohe says, despite all future Hesse novels going balls deep into Eastern thought. Perhaps it is true Hesse himself is expressing an interest, and has Kuhn dismiss Lohe's words as childish as a point of showing Kuhn's ignorance. This is a running theme in Hesse's work, where the protagonist would consider himself hot shit, would see himself as above or at least different from the masses, and would refuse to better himself through seeking and absorbing more knowledge, until ultimately he realizes his mistakes in life and is made humble (and to contrive a Kendrick Lamar reference, sits down). This is the exact structure of Siddhartha, or otherwise I've read that novel a few times and just forgot everything in it. Kuhn, then, doesn't quite make it so far. He continues to see Lohe as a fool, as he continues to see Teiser's innocent love of music as foolish, and he becomes so blinded by his fear for Muoth's life and his mixed feelings about Gertrude's love that he never really has the chance to grow until it's too late.

The second-to-last chapter sees the narrative dissolve into a melancholic haze. The action here, concerning the disintegration of the Muoth-Imthor marriage, is written in a manner I felt was "detached," as if Kuhn is too far away, and granting us mere summary rather than relaying facts and feelings from within the situation. Kuhn has maybe alienated himself again, this time unknowingly, his inability to reconnect with his dear friends being the wedge forcing him from happiness. Or, from immediate happiness; he finds contentedness after Muoth dies and Gertrude becomes a spinster, and the final chapter, a mere two-and-a-half pages in length, reads like a eulogy for the friendships and romances of the previous 200+ pages. The turmoils of knowing and loving Muoth and Gertrude now gone and nearly forgotten, Kuhn rests easily in his now-quiet life. This is very "Hesse" (to use his name as adjective), at least for the man's earlier work, for a protagonist to spend so much time running from mediocre society and toward some dream of individualism, only to be beaten back into being another sheep in the herd, to borrow Lohe's appraisal of youthful cynicism. The nail that sticks out is hammered down, I guess, but this seems counter to what Hesse otherwise preaches. Unless it's like all the anti-school stuff in Beneath the Wheel and it's yet another case of Hesse giving the finger to the world and saying something like "Don't let the world fuck you because you'll become blissful in your ignorance like Kuhn." I don't know. I don't quite feel like there's much malice behind the words of this novel, and so I'm only forcing the opinion to color it a little differently, for fun.

****

"Alas, how is it that life can be so confusing and out of tune and false, how can there be lies, evil, envy and hate among people, when the shortest song and most simple piece of music preach that heaven is revealed in the purity, harmony and interplay of clearly sounded notes. And how can I upbraid people and grow angry when I, myself, with all the good will in the world have beenunable to make song and sweet music out of my life?" (3)

"He was unhappy, and inward pain gnawed at him, and his loneliness had become intolerable to him. This unhappy man had been proud and had tasted solitude. He could no longer endure it; he was searching for people, for a kind look and a little understanding, and he was ready to sacrifice himself for them." (38)

"I was no longer a single person but a part of all people, seeing good and bad in all. I felt I could not love a person here and hate another person there. I was ashamed of my lack of understanding and saw clearly for the first time in my young life that one could not go through life and among people so simply, hating one person and loving another, respecting one person and despising another, but all these emotions were closely tied up, scarcely separable and at times scarcely distinguishable." (53)

"Teiser was lucky; he was not tormented by any desires for the unattainable. He derived a keen, unfailing pleasure from his art. He did not ask for more than it gave him, and outside his art he was even more easy to satisfy; he only needed a few friendly people, an occasional good glass of wine, and on free days an excursion into the country, for he liked walking and open-air life. If there was anything in the teachings of the theosophists, then this man was almost perfect; his disposition was so kind and he harbored so little passion and discontent. Yet even if I perhaps deceived myself, I did not wish to be like him. I did not want to be like anyone else. I wanted to remain in my own skin, although it was often so constrictive. I began to feel power within me as my work began to have some effect, and I was on the point of becoming proud. I had to find some kind of bridge to reach people, had to learn to live with them without always being the weaker. If there was no other way, perhaps my music would create a bridge. If people did not like me, they would have to like my music.
"I could not rid myself of such foolish thoughts and yet I was ready to devote and sacrifice myself to someone who wanted me, to someone who really understood me. Was not music the secret law of the world? Did not the earth and stars move in a harmonious circle? And should I have to remain alone and not find people whose natures harmonized well with my own?" (80 - 81)

"My thoughts about the music and Gertrude Imthor flowed together clearly without a break. I drew my bow and gave directions with my glance. The music proceeded smoothly and steadily; it carried me with it along a golden path to Gertrude, whom I could no longer see and now no longer even desired to see. I dedicated my music and my life's breath, my thoughts and my heart to her, as an early-morning wanderer surrenders himself to the blue sky and the bright dew on the meadows, involuntarily and without losing himself. Simultaneous with this feeling of well-being and the increasing volume of sound, I was overwhelmed by an astonishing feeling of happiness, for I suddenly knew what love was. It was not a new feeling, but a clarification and confirmation of old premonitions, a return to a native country." (85)

"Only now could I visualize the whole opera on the stage, only now could my own flame reach me and let me feel its warmth. It was as if the opera did not belong to me, as if it had never been my work but had its own life and the effect of an external power over me." (112)

"'You are suffering from a sickness, one that is fashionable, unfortunately, and that one comes across every day among sensitive people. It is related to moral insanity and can also be called individualism or imaginary loneliness. Modern books are full of it. It has insinuated itself into your imagination; you are isolated; no one troubles about you and no one understands you. Am I right? [...] Listen. Those who suffer from this illness need only a couple of disappointments to make them believe that there is no link between them and other people, that all people go about in a state of complete loneliness, that they never really understand each other, share anything or have anything in common. It also happens that people who suffer from this sickness become arrogant and regard all other healthy people who can understand and love each other as flocks of sheep. If this sickness were general, the human race would die out, but it is only found among the upper classes in Central Europe. It can be cured in young people and it is, indeed, part of the inevitable period of development. [...] You are suffering from the sickness itself, not the popular caricature of it. But there really is a cure for it. It is pure fiction that there is no bridge between one person and another, that everyone goes about lonely and misunderstood. On the contrary. What people have in common with each other is much more and of greater importance than what each person has in his own nature, what makes him different from others.'" (139 - 140, spoken by Lohe, italics and bold letters my addition)

"[...]'Wise men continually demonstrate from time to time that everything is only imagination. [...] All that these philosophers write about is only a game; perhaps they comfort themselves with it. One philosopher preaches individualism because he can't bear his contemporaries, and another socialism because he can't endure being alone. [...] Either the world is bad and worthless, as Buddhists and Christians preach, in which case one must do penance and renounce everything--I believe one can obtain peace of mind in this way--ascetics do not have such a hard life as people think. Or else the world and life are good and right--then one can just take part in it and afterwards die peacefully, because it is finished. [...] Most people believe in both, dependent on the weather, their health, and whether they have money in their purses or not. And those who really believe do not live in accordance with their beliefs. That is how it is with me too. For instance, I believe as Buddha did that life is not worthwhile, but I live for things that appeal to my senses as if this is the most important thing to do. If only it was more satisfying!'" (209 - 210, spoken by Muoth)

"Fate was not kind, life was capricious and terrible, and there was no good or reason in nature. But there is good and reason in us, in human beings, with whom fortune plays, and we can be stronger than nature and fate, if only for a few hours. And we can draw close to one another in times of need, understand and love one another, and live to comfort each other.
"And sometimes, when the black depths are silent, we can do even more. We can then be gods for moments, stretch out a commanding hand and create things which were not there before and which, when they are created, continue to live without us. Out of sounds, words and other frail and worthless things, we can construct playthings--songs and poems full of meaning, consolation and goodness, more beautiful and enduring than the grim sport of fortune and destiny. We can keep the spirit of God in our hearts and, at times, when we are full of him, he can appear in our eyes and our words, and also talk to others who do not know or do not wish to know him. We cannot evade life's course, but we can school ourselves to be superior to fortune and also to look unflinchingly upon the most painful things." (213 - 214)

O narațiune de tipul unui șarpe uroborus, în sensul în care finalul înghite toată intenția din început. O lucrare hessian de plicticoasă (nu-mi săriți în cap, rogu-vă, altfel vom purta o diatribă à la Hume și mi-e teamă că vom recurge la catehismul teosofic!).
Rareori mi se întâmplă să mă epuizeze cărțile aceluiași autor, presupunând că mi-e drag. Cu Hesse este, în genere, o experiență estetică, plăcându-mi calofilia asta specifică lui care duce-n filosofie teoretico-spiritualistă. “Gertrud” este, din păcate, o narațiune fără plan, în care intenția se schimbă pe parcurs și se permută identitatea naratorului astfel încât să se potrivească unor clișee textuale până când cititorul ajunge în fața unei infertilități a autorului ce dorește să extindă o idee la nesfârșit. In nuce, putea fi o povestire de 30 de pagini.

นี่เป็นหนังสือเล่มแรกของเฮสเสที่หยิบขึ้นมาอ่าน เพราะเชื่อว่าน่าจะเป็นผลงานเล่มที่เสพย์ง่ายที่สุดและเข้าถึงได้ง่ายที่สุดแล้ว เพราะเมื่อพะ��ี่ห้อว่าเขียนโดยนักเขียนเจ้าของรางวัลโนเบลชาวเยอรมัน...อะไรๆ ดูจะล่อลวงให้ชวนคิดไปว่า...มันต้องอ่านยาก ต้องเก็บไว้เทอดทูนบนหิ้งอย่างเดียวแน่ๆ

ซึ่งพออ่านไปสัก 2-3 บทแล้ว ขอเถียงเลยว่า 'ไม่จริงค่ะ'เกอทรูดอ่านง่าย ไอ้ที่ว่าอ่านยาก...คิดไปเองทั้งนั้น

อย่านะคะ... อย่าให้การมโนของคุณทำให้คุณพลาดโอกาสเสพย์งานซึ่งสวยงามมากขนาดนี้ เพราะ 'เกอทรูด' ของเฮอมานน์ ���ฮสเส เป็นเรื่องราวของชายหนุ่มที่มีความรักค่ะ :-)

Q: โรแมนติกไหม?
A: บอกเลยว่าโรแมนติกค่ะ

เราอาจจะจินตนาการฉากหลังของเยอรมันไม่เก่งเท่าไร แต่เรารู้สึกเหมือนได้ท่องเที่ยวอย่างสงบไปในออสเตรียทั้งฤดูร้อน ฤดูหนาว ฤดูใบไม้ผลิเลยนะ ทั้งเรื่องมันเจือบรรยากาศคลาสสิค โรแมนติก เคล้าเสียงเพลงบรรเลงเปียโน ไวโอลิน ทางเดินปูก้อนอิฐ บ้านเมืองสวยงาม งานเต้นรำ งานเลี้ยง โรงอุปรากร รายล้อมรุมล้อมอยู่ในแวดวงนักดนตรีตลอดเวลา เพราะคุนห์ พระเอกของเรื่องเป็นนักไวโอลินและนักแต่งเพลงค่ะ

Q: ปรัชญาจ๋า เข้าใจยากรึเปล่า ดราม่าจัดหนัก ชีวิตลำเค็ญ?
A: ไม่นะ ไม่เลยสักนิด

คือคุณเฮสเสเค้าเล่าได้ธรรมชาติมากจนเราไม่อยากเชื่อว่ามันคือนิยายหรือเรื่องแต่ง เรารู้สึกว่าทุกตัวละครมีชีวิตจิตใจจริงๆ เค้าเชื่อมแต่ละซีนแต่ละฉากได้กลมเนียนเป็นเนื้อเดียวกัน เหมือนแต่ละซีนมันละลายเข้าหากัน รู้ตัวอีกที เค้าเปลี่ยนฉากและเล่าต่อไปแล้ว การเชื่อมรอยต่อของฉากมันเนียนถึงขนาดนั้น...

เพราะงั้นแล้ว เราไม่รู้สึกว่ามันปรัชญาสักนิด และไม่ดราม่าจนคนอ่านรู้สึกถูกยัดเยียดอารมณ์บีบคั้นหนักๆ มาให้ด้วย... คือเค้าเล่าสภาพการณ์และห้วงอารมณ์ความรู้สึกขณะนั้นเสียจนเราอดเห็นอกเห็นใจตัวละครไม่ได้ เฮสเสไม่ได้ใช้พรรณนาโวหารพร่ำเพรื่อ ไม่บรรยายถึงสิ่งไม่จำเป็น เค้ามีบทสนทนาใส่มาแค่เท่าที่จำเป็น และเดินเรื่องฉับไว ตรงจุดที่ควรอ้อยอิ่งก็อ้อยอิ่ง จุดที่ควรไปไวก็ไปไว บอกได้ว่านี่เป็นวรรณกรรมที่เป็น page turner เลยค่ะ...

ดูสิว่ามันเป็นหนังสือหายากขนาดไหน... เป็นนิยายแนวโรแมนติกที่เขียนโดยนักเขียนโนเบล แล้วยังเป็น page turner อีก... เราว่าหนังสือที่ทำได้ขนาดนี้ มันหาไม่ง่ายมั้งคะ

ส่วนหนึ่งของผลงานเล่มนี้ ขอยกความดีความชอบให้กับคุณสดใส ผู้แปลค่ะ ทำให้เราได้เสพย์วรรณกรรมชั้นดีซึ่งมีภาษาสวยอย่างไม่ประดิษฐ์ เป็น effortless beauty ที่คิดว่าเบื้องหลัง คุณสดใสคงต้องทำงานหนักมาก เพราะระดับของภาษาทั้งเล่มมันเสมอกัน ไม่มีจุดกระตุก และใช้ภาษาไทยได้สวยพริ้วไหวอย่างน่าอิจฉาเลยทีเดียว

ขอบอกเลยว่า 'เกอทรูด' ของเฮสเสนั้น เป็นหนังสือที่หวานอย่างสงบนิ่งค่ะ เหมือนได้ชมดอกบัวขาวค่อยๆ คลี่กลีบบานในบึงใส เป็นการใช้ภาษาที่ทำเอาเราโบกโบยไปกับสายลมได้จริงๆ

หากบอกว่าหนังสือเล่มนี้เป็นเรื่องโรแมนติกแล้วคุณยังไม่ซื้อ ต้องขอเพิ่มเติมแล้วล่ะค่ะว่ามัน coming of age ด้วย! เป็น coming of age ของนักดนตรีหนุ่มที่มีความรักค่ะ

หากต้องการเสพย์ความหวานอย่างสงบนิ่งและปลอดโปร่งใจ ขอจงไปหยิบหา 'เกอทรูด' มาอ่านโดยพลัน...

امروز رمان رو تموم کردم، بینهایت عالی بود، هم موضوع وهم نثر روان مترجم، واقعا لذت بردم، اگه بخوام یه مختصر ریوویو بدم درموردش میتونم بگم ساختارش مدرنیستی و بر مبنای فلسفه پدیدارشناسی هست، بیشتر یاد تفسیرهای اشعار خیام میافتم. سیلان ذهن، تک گویی درونی از المان های اصلی داستان هست. در هر صورت رمان قشنگی بود.

Lo so che scrivo una banalità, ma ripetere non fa male: Hesse è sinonimo di qualità.
E' sempre un piacere ritrovare la sua espressività, la sua precisione, la profondità dei personaggi e la semplicità dell'intreccio.
La profondità del compositore Kuhn è così ben delineata e approfondita, e le sue riflessioni così ben articolate che, immedesimandomici, mi sono in parte ripresa da quella specie di senso di colpa che mi aveva risvegliato 'Canone inverso' di Maurensig.
Infine, mi viene spontaneo osservare come questo scrittore venga spesso proposto (a volte anche imposto, a scuola) come lettura idonea per adolescenti e per giovanissimi, tant'è che io me lo son letto quasi tutto tra i 14 e i 16. Oggi mi rendo conto che dovrò trovare il tempo per rileggerlo, in realtà non è quella l'età migliore per leggere Hesse.