A review by oofym
The Confusions of Young Torless by Ritchie Robertson, Robert Musil, Mike Mitchell

challenging dark reflective slow-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? It's complicated
• Loveable characters? No
• Diverse cast of characters? No
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

A 160 page book that deals with metaphysics, transcendentalism, the human soul, fascism, the nature of the universe and all wrapped up in a layer of Kantian philosophy?? Sign me up brother.

First thing of note is how paradoxical the writing style feels. It's incredibly detailed and all the while totally ambiguous. The author might lengthily describe how Torless is feeling for a page and a half; yet never quite paint a totally clear picture for the reader.
It reminds me a great deal of Henry James'  The turn of the screw, as in you have these sentences which are very long winded, yet structured in a way in which the reader must piece a puzzle together to try and fully grasp the text. 
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I feel that Törless's first "confusion" so to speak; is in his discovery of the grime in the world, the nastiness he thought he could keep wholly separate from what he finds to be clean and respectable, his inability to confine people and his thoughts to strict parameters. When Törless realises his class of people are not so perfect, that they also commit deceit and do nasty things, he almost can't wrap his head around it. He wants them completely removed from his presence. When he starts to engage with and think about women sexually, he struggles to limit his sexual thoughts; Boys, and even his own mother pop into his head with sexual connotations and he's entirely disgusted by this. 

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One of the strongest motifs of the novel is the inability to describe certain feelings and metaphysical concepts with words. This is probably why certain sections of the book feel so hard to grasp; Robert Musil is trying to put words to the indescribable. The epigraph at the start of the story is apt. 

"As soon as we put something into words, in a strange way we devalue it. We think we have dived to the bottom of the abyss, and when we return to the surface the drop of water glistening on our pale fingertips no longer resembles the sea from which it comes. We imagine we have discovered a cave full of wonderful treasures, and when we return to the light of day, we find that all we have brought back is false jewels and shards of glass; and yet the treasure continues to gleam in the dark, unaltered." - Maeterlinck 

A large part of Törless's sufferings seem to stem from him trying to understand things that exist, but exist in a realm outside what we can logically comprehend in a mechanical sense. The novel compares this feeling to trying to understand infinity, you know it's a real concept, but to try and fully grasp infinity? Good luck. It would be like trying to explain "the butterflies" or "true love" to a toddler. But just because the toddler can't grasp it doesn't mean it's not real. 

"Everything used to be so clearly organised inside my head, but now I feel that my thoughts are like clouds, and when I come to specific places it's like a gap between them through which you're looking into an unending, indeterminate expanse." 

The inability to trace a pattern of thought from its original start to its final end, the inability to wholly comprehend the cause and effect of the mind and the way it links itself unto the physical word, the inability to identify the self and to see reason in the way in which are actions are picked by ourselves, or from something else.
These are all incredibly out-there and illogical trains of thought, but that is what Törless has found himself buried in by latter half of the story. Is it an artistic or poetic awakening, or sheer madness and delirium? Törless can't quite decide, but he's absolutely determined on reaching the depths of the abyss. 

"Is it a general rule that there is something inside us that is stronger, bigger, darker, more beautiful and passionate than we are? Over which we have so little power that we can only aimlessly scatter thousands of seeds, untill from one a sprout suddenly shoots up like a dark flame that far outgrows us?" 

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The connection between alienation and fascism is also remarkably ahead of it's time. Considering this book was written in 1906 the way it tends to predict alot of the future Nazi ideology in terms of power dynamics and superiority is extraordinary. Essentially the text is showcasing a prime example that when you start to view yourself as unique, as original, you can also start to feel incredibly alone and isolated. This leads to an inner turmoil of : "I like my individuality but suffer from alienation due to my individuality". This In turn can then give rise to ideas of individual superiority which can spread like a disease; after all, if you feel left out, a common coping mechanism is to view the people who've pushed you to the side as lesser human  than you, it's alot more palatable than viewing yourself as the lesser one. As the text puts this isolation to fascism pipeline quite succinctly:

 "In solitude everything is allowed."

Like the Nazi party's rise to power, what you see is pretty much a sense of isolation which turns into a victim complex that slowly turns into a superiority complex due to the self-inflicted victimisation. Bonus points aswell for the author evidently seeing the strong link between masculinity and homoeroticism, if everything effeminate is offensive to my sense of superiority, then boys are hot right? 

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There is a somewhat happy ending to the story atleast, although not typically happy, perhaps a relieving end would describe it better. In the end Törless realises that it's natural for himself to see things as paradoxical and constantly juxtaposing, that to reach certain conclusions one must jump over gaps, and to feel present one must feel distant. He realises that the solid walls of life aren't as solid as they seem, but it's important to focus on what is tangible even if it might not be as tangible as you'd like to believe. We learn that Törless eventually became a man dedicated to intellectual pursuits and artistic feelings, but also took comfort in the rigid boundaries of societal expectations. Törless learns to live life in the way a gardener might do, rather than attempting constant and reckless growth in all directions like a weed, he learns to set up a plot of land for himself, or a greenhouse, and within those confines cultivates his garden to the best of his ability. All the while understanding that there are things that go on outside the greenhouse, but it's better to remain within it. He begins to understand the limitations of thought and the necessity to not let yourself be consumed by them, thought is something natural, something that comes to you in moments and abandons you in others. But try to remember not to chase thought so relentlessly you plunge yourself into existential depths. The thoughts that really matter to you will rise up again in a future stage of your life without you having to force it. 
I'll end the review off with perhaps my favourite quote in the book.

"For there's something odd about thoughts. Often they are no more than chance encounters that disappear without leaving any traces, and thoughts have times when they are dead and others when they are alive. We can have a brilliant insight and it will still fade, slowly, even as we hold it, like a flower. The shape remains but its colours, its fragrance, are gone... Untill --- years later perhaps, all at once another moment comes when we see that in the interim we have known nothing at all about it, even though in terms of logic we knew everything.
Yes there are dead and living thoughts.... a thought, it may have passed through our brain a long time ago, it only comes alive when it is joined by something that is no longer thinking, no longer logical, so that we feel it's truth, beyond all justification, like an anchor that is dropped from it into our living flesh throbbing with blood. 
A great insight is only half achieved in the light of our brain, the other half is completed in the dark ground of our innermost being."