Herman Hesse, Demian
...How did my last post go through? Oh well, at least this means I can contribute another post without having to wait for the start of the discussion period. (LJ has a limit of one moderated post per user per community.)
Demian is an early-century literary classic which was apparently a very big deal at the time of its initial publication. (Like Connie Willis pointed out in Bellweather, it fulfills the requirements for a "fad" book: controversial, "spiritual," and short.) Plot-wise, it's the story of a young boy from a very religious family who is attracted to a charismatic older classmate, leaves home for boarding school, represses his sexual desires, becomes an alcoholic and is nearly expelled, finds solace in a religion he creates with another classmate, and finally learns to live with himself (kind of). The book talks about certain people being "marked" (with the mark of Cain) and about how these people recognize each other and are drawn to each other. Nowhere are the words "attracted to exclusively men, never to women" spoken, but it's crystal clear that this is what Hesse is describing.
At least I hope it's clear -- I feel sorry for anyone who could read this book and really believe that it's the "feminine" parts of Demian that appeal to Sinclair or that he's honestly searching for an ideal women who just happens to coincidentally resemble a man. I suppose it's possible that Sinclair was born "twisted" -- innately prone to convoluted and abstract philosophies in place of straight physical companionship -- but an inadmissible sexual orientation is the more likely explanation.
It's a good thing for literature that he never owns up, however -- the book would be much less interesting if he had. It seems to me that Hesse wrote the book as honestly as he was capable of but that he just couldn't say anything more. Demian is correspondingly an excellent first-hand account of the kind of psychological damage that results from denying your true self. I want to make every strict parent read this book -- Sinclair hates himself before he invents a weird religion to justify his feelings. Hesse takes the religion, and everything else Sinclair says or believes, seriously, refusing to dismiss any of it as obvious or inconsequential or simply deluded. Thus there are some places where the book gets bogged down in philosophical mumbo-jumbo; and this is also reflected in the dialog, which is at times painfully artificial.
But Hesse's refusal to simplify or generalize (or dismiss or devalue) is also the book's strength. Demian is treasure-chest of detailed psychological reporting. And it's short! I recommend it.
Demian is an early-century literary classic which was apparently a very big deal at the time of its initial publication. (Like Connie Willis pointed out in Bellweather, it fulfills the requirements for a "fad" book: controversial, "spiritual," and short.) Plot-wise, it's the story of a young boy from a very religious family who is attracted to a charismatic older classmate, leaves home for boarding school, represses his sexual desires, becomes an alcoholic and is nearly expelled, finds solace in a religion he creates with another classmate, and finally learns to live with himself (kind of). The book talks about certain people being "marked" (with the mark of Cain) and about how these people recognize each other and are drawn to each other. Nowhere are the words "attracted to exclusively men, never to women" spoken, but it's crystal clear that this is what Hesse is describing.
At least I hope it's clear -- I feel sorry for anyone who could read this book and really believe that it's the "feminine" parts of Demian that appeal to Sinclair or that he's honestly searching for an ideal women who just happens to coincidentally resemble a man. I suppose it's possible that Sinclair was born "twisted" -- innately prone to convoluted and abstract philosophies in place of straight physical companionship -- but an inadmissible sexual orientation is the more likely explanation.
It's a good thing for literature that he never owns up, however -- the book would be much less interesting if he had. It seems to me that Hesse wrote the book as honestly as he was capable of but that he just couldn't say anything more. Demian is correspondingly an excellent first-hand account of the kind of psychological damage that results from denying your true self. I want to make every strict parent read this book -- Sinclair hates himself before he invents a weird religion to justify his feelings. Hesse takes the religion, and everything else Sinclair says or believes, seriously, refusing to dismiss any of it as obvious or inconsequential or simply deluded. Thus there are some places where the book gets bogged down in philosophical mumbo-jumbo; and this is also reflected in the dialog, which is at times painfully artificial.
But Hesse's refusal to simplify or generalize (or dismiss or devalue) is also the book's strength. Demian is treasure-chest of detailed psychological reporting. And it's short! I recommend it.