Rosshalde

Rating:
Summary: Good but not brilliant
Review: Although "Rosshalde" is a good book, it is not one of Hesse's best books. It lacks the acuity and depth of some of his other later works such as "Steppenwolf," "Demian" and "Narcissus and Goldmund." The strong point of the book, however, is that it makes the reader realize how precious life is and how one should not waste it in unhappiness.

Hesse tells a somewhat autobiographical story about a person who must make a choice between happiness and his family. The protagonist, Johann Veraguth, loves his child, Pierre, immensely. Estranged from his wife and despised by his oldest child, Albert, he cannot endure living a life devoid of love. For years, the only enjoyment the painter experiences is his love for Pierre and for his work. (And, as Hesse illustrates, sometimes his love for his work makes him emotionally unavailable to the child.) The story accurately describes the emotions of a person who must make a choice between two exclusive desires. Does he choose to pursue his dreams or to stay with his child? Only the reader will find out.

Rating:
Summary: Not his best
Review: I've never been a huge Hesse fan, but still I've read a number of his books. This one is the least impressive; it's typical Hesse but not at his best. Like his other books, Rosshalde contains bits of life wisdom and he is, as usual, honest and incisive. It seems to me that Hesse is more of a philosopher than a writer though. Sure, his writings always provoke in me numerous aha moments; reading him is like listening to a kind and wise old friend -- these are the qualities that I value in all his books. But his prose is droning, primitive and awkward (again, not only here, but here it is especially so.) To call this book a novel is a bit optimistic, I feel.

I second a number of the previous reviewers here who advise not to start from this book. His best, in my opinion, is the Glassbeads Game (though it's way too long); next best -- the Steppenwolf. Most people could stop after that, quite honestly: it's all the same afterwards, and he's not that great. Anyway... Rosshalde is a quick and easy read, but I think I would have lost nothing if I passed -- it's OK, but not a must read.

Here's (based on what I've read) a ranking of Hesse books: the Glass Beads, then Steppenwolf, then Narcissus and Goldmund, then Siddharta, then Rosshilde (the last two optional.)

In general, my impression is that Hesse is overrated; how he got a Nobel prize is unclear to me: he writes childishly, his literary style is reminiscent of Coelho, even though he's much more genuine on balance. Of course, to a degree this impression may be due to the translation -- it would be curious to read him in the original German.

Rating:
Summary: Hesse's most honest, most intimate prose
Review: In this short but unexpectedly brilliant novel, Hesse crafts a landscape of feelings, terrors, and dreams that reflects itself both in the artistic visions of the story's main character and in the dissembling beauty of the story's setting, the estate Rosshalde. Exposing layer after layer of secret thoughts and frustrations, this book is a rich tapestry of all the colors that belong to the palette of human experience.

The tale begins amidst a failing marriage, a blooming career, and a poisonous atmosphere of thoughts unspoken and wishes unfulfilled. Johann Veraguth and his wife Adele live just a short walk away from each other at the artist's splendid country estate, though their souls have drifted worlds apart. The only connection between them, a spoiled but charming child, Pierre, rather than bringing them together in a time of crisis, becomes a thorn in their side--the one love in both of their lives, and yet the most painful physical reminder of their lost marital happiness. Then a glimmer of light shines on Johann's miserable life: the promise of a new life, a death and rebirth. How the man learns to understand his selfishness and his error, how he comes to grasp the full meaning of his search for beauty and happiness, becomes the horrifyingly honest and candidly autobiographical plot of this book.

Though perhaps not as uplifting as _Siddhartha_ or as epiphanic as _Journey to the East_, this book far outshines Hesse's other works in its unflinching depiction of mental struggle, of discontent, depression, and self-criticism. The way Hesse explores each character's soul--especially in the uncanny synthesis of childish naivete and prophetically mature understanding in Pierre's nightmarish daydreams--is sublime. His final portrayal of hope for an end to self-annihilating unhappiness is not pessimistic, but real and heartfelt.

The pain and yearning in this book is real and heartfelt, and the ultimate hope it breathes equally so. Read it slowly, take in the landscape of Hesse's painting, and leave it with a resolve to live your life, to be you.