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florisw 's review for:
The Glass Bead Game
by Hermann Hesse
I definitely see why The Glass Bead Game has become such a classic book, and why several people recommended it to me lately. The story is so unique (at least for me) and well-thought out, and Hesse is so good at creating a believable world. There's also a timeless quality to it - the story takes place at an unspecified time in the future, but it feels like it could have been an alternative version of our current history (somewhere between the 1850s and 1950s, with only a single mention of a radio and a few mentions of cars making me lean towards the latter). The archaic intellectual, verbal, and domestic habits of the Castalians - the monkish intellectual class of this future society - really add to the uncanny future-past feel of it. There were certain passages that were also genuine page-turners for me, these often being the ones where the main character, Joseph Knecht, faces an immediate dilemma or challenge to his ordered worldview (an emotional trauma, a different perspective, a political controversy). However, these passages are few and far between, as the book is mostly about Knecht's gradual transformation from a young musical prodigy to the legendary magister ludi, or master of the game. I say gradual, its pace is quite inconsistent (often explained away by historical records being patchy or some similar excuse). Good luck trying to track the passing of time - sometimes years will be covered in pages, sometimes a whole chapter will cover one conversation. Most of Knecht's career as the magister ludi is skipped, the beginning and ending being the only juicy bits, and the rest we are left to fill in ourselves.
The book certainly feels like it was written in the earlier part of the previous century. Certain elements, like the lack of emotional intelligence of or odd interactions between characters are a little offputting. The way the narrator describes Knecht's friendships sometimes makes the protagonist comes across as emotionally-manipulative (thinking in particular his relationship with Tegularius), not helped by the impression that Knecht often rises above the emotional plane, looking down on everyone else. (For example, when he's being accused by Plinio of causing him emotional harm, and he simply smiles in a way that conveys ultimate friendliness whilst making Plinio doubt whether he could ever have been hurt by this man - bit unsettling really, as if it isn't genuine, he just knows how to make his face look like that). He's not what I would consider a traditionally sympathetic character (not that he's unsympathetic, just that he's difficult to relate to). Maybe this odd emotional mood of the book is amplified by the near total absence of a female presence, bar the occasional mention of a mother, or the the "venal or sluttish women" who tempted students of the past. Shiver.
The Game itself is also strangely alien. It is described by Hesse is plausible terms, but it smacks of what we might today consider ivory-tower haughtiness, something which makes Knecht's actions at the end of the book seem quite reasonable and relatable. The concept is fantastic, don't get me wrong, and I would love to see how people have interpreted it (there is enough ambiguity left for it to be interpreted in various ways I think). Having studied a bit of scholarship in the medieval period I love the concept that Music and Mathematics are the two most important balls of yarn from which a cosmic intellectual tapestry is woven (if that sounded too grandiose to you then you might not enjoy it as much).
I think what makes this book uncomfortable is also part of its timeless charm. Hesse speaks to similar tensions in society today (temptation and restraint, academia and politics, order and freedom, diplomacy and seclusion, etc.). What makes the Castalians so emotionally inept or rigid in their ways is also what makes them such an interesting community. What is perhaps less intentional on Hesse's part is the one-dimensional personalities his characters have. Many of the key players in this book are meant to represent static forces in the protagonist's life: the generous mentor, the intellectual sparring partner, the outsider friend, etc, and often stay that way. Even Knecht, the main protagonist of the story, only undergoes significant character development at the end of the book, and even then we're only told about it rather than "shown it". The same counts for his friend Plinio, who arguably undergoes the biggest change, but off-screen so to speak. This character rigidity doesn't help the excitement of the story, and I did sometimes find myself just going through the motions in order to get to the next section because of it - I didn't really worry about missing something important because lots of things happen anecdotally and aren't hugely consequential to the characters' storylines. I think it's a shame, but it doesn't take away from the ambition of the narrative and the author's imagination. The thematic richness of the book really lends well to different interpretations and reader experiences, which is sometimes all you can ask for from a classic work of fiction.
The book certainly feels like it was written in the earlier part of the previous century. Certain elements, like the lack of emotional intelligence of or odd interactions between characters are a little offputting. The way the narrator describes Knecht's friendships sometimes makes the protagonist comes across as emotionally-manipulative (thinking in particular his relationship with Tegularius), not helped by the impression that Knecht often rises above the emotional plane, looking down on everyone else. (For example, when he's being accused by Plinio of causing him emotional harm, and he simply smiles in a way that conveys ultimate friendliness whilst making Plinio doubt whether he could ever have been hurt by this man - bit unsettling really, as if it isn't genuine, he just knows how to make his face look like that). He's not what I would consider a traditionally sympathetic character (not that he's unsympathetic, just that he's difficult to relate to). Maybe this odd emotional mood of the book is amplified by the near total absence of a female presence, bar the occasional mention of a mother, or the the "venal or sluttish women" who tempted students of the past. Shiver.
The Game itself is also strangely alien. It is described by Hesse is plausible terms, but it smacks of what we might today consider ivory-tower haughtiness, something which makes Knecht's actions at the end of the book seem quite reasonable and relatable. The concept is fantastic, don't get me wrong, and I would love to see how people have interpreted it (there is enough ambiguity left for it to be interpreted in various ways I think). Having studied a bit of scholarship in the medieval period I love the concept that Music and Mathematics are the two most important balls of yarn from which a cosmic intellectual tapestry is woven (if that sounded too grandiose to you then you might not enjoy it as much).
I think what makes this book uncomfortable is also part of its timeless charm. Hesse speaks to similar tensions in society today (temptation and restraint, academia and politics, order and freedom, diplomacy and seclusion, etc.). What makes the Castalians so emotionally inept or rigid in their ways is also what makes them such an interesting community. What is perhaps less intentional on Hesse's part is the one-dimensional personalities his characters have. Many of the key players in this book are meant to represent static forces in the protagonist's life: the generous mentor, the intellectual sparring partner, the outsider friend, etc, and often stay that way. Even Knecht, the main protagonist of the story, only undergoes significant character development at the end of the book, and even then we're only told about it rather than "shown it". The same counts for his friend Plinio, who arguably undergoes the biggest change, but off-screen so to speak. This character rigidity doesn't help the excitement of the story, and I did sometimes find myself just going through the motions in order to get to the next section because of it - I didn't really worry about missing something important because lots of things happen anecdotally and aren't hugely consequential to the characters' storylines. I think it's a shame, but it doesn't take away from the ambition of the narrative and the author's imagination. The thematic richness of the book really lends well to different interpretations and reader experiences, which is sometimes all you can ask for from a classic work of fiction.