On Peter Camenzind - Novel by Hermann Hesse

April 24, 2024

Finding your place in the world

Recently, I read Hesse's Peter Camenzind -- my fourth read from Hesse. It surely left a quite different impression than some of his other works. However, it still follows somewhat the same theme, where a protagonist shares quite a unique value other than his surroundings and is forced to embark on a journey to self-realization. However, this is not completely true for Peter Camenzind --- for although he does discover a lot of wisdom through his wide exploration, he does not find the same state of content as other characters do. Peter Camenzind comes from a village in the mountains so isolated that at least three-quarters of them are called Camenzind. Being good at writing led him to further studies that led him to the outer world. One thing that I did like about Peter is his depth value for friendship, love, etc -- it may be tied to his self-isolation. These were so deep that he suffered more than any other. It started with his first which, as he said --

This, my first love, never came to any conclusion—its echo receded gradually and enigmatically.

Another recurrence of misery that we find is death -- and it starts with Peter's mother, with whom he was the closest when he was at his bedside. Peter was not at the best term with his father and did not remain at home, so he returned to Zurich again. Here, a new part of his life began -- friendship. This is somewhat common in all of Hesse's novels that protagonist cherish their friends. At one point, Peter says,

“I’m accustomed to keeping promises to the letter,” I replied heatedly and pompously. “But of course by now I’m used to its not mattering to you at all that you keep me waiting—not if one has as many friends as you…”

He looked at me with immense astonishment. “Do you take trifles like that seriously?”

“My friendship is more than a trifle to me.”

While in another instance,

I made no further friends because of my exclusive and jealous affection for Richard. This was so exclusive that I even tried to draw him away from the many women he knew.

Also, recall Haller from Steppenwolf

I was surprised to feel something like jealousy of this agreeable and charming musician, not a lover’s jealousy, for there was no question of love between Hermine and me, but a subtler jealousy of their friendship; for he did not seem to me so eminently worthy of the interest, and even reverence, with which she so conspicuously distinguished him.

And I asked myself, how often do we feel jealous in friendship? Is it that we do not value friendship enough that we do not cling to it, or are these characters simply so isolated that their friendship acts as a single light? Nevertheless, it's characteristic that I adore these characters. With Richard, Peter comes into contact with his second love -- which, by the way, is another unrequited love and not the last either. Another thing that you can't fail to notice is how much this guy ponders over his love and feels so deep that it hurts so much in the end. And this one fails miserably when Peter asks Erminia about his love

“That’s another of your romantic notions,” she said, “to have a woman tell you stories at night in the middle of a lake. Unfortunately I can’t do it. You poets are accustomed to finding words for everything beautiful and you don’t even grant that people have hearts if they are less talkative about their feelings than you. Well, you couldn’t be more wrong in my case, for I don’t think anyone can love more passionately. I am in love with a man who is married, and he loves me just as much. Yet neither of us knows whether we will ever be able to live together. We write to each other and occasionally we meet…”

“Can I ask whether this love makes you happy or miserable, or both?”

“Oh, love isn’t there to make us happy. I believe it exists to show us how much we can endure.”

And it hit him so hard that he fled the sight and ran away --- later became a drinker. But it didn't last forever, for he was revived by Richard -- who made him a writer. And this is the theme that will repeat itself -- Peter will fall many times, but he finds ground and stability -- but falls once more. It goes like this -- Richard dies -- more drinking and traveling -- finds another girl -- fails again -- my dear brother, wine. -- finds another home where Nardini asked her to marry him -- but

Now I discovered how painful love can be when you cannot return it.

And it is important to mention that these ups and down in Peter's life did change him in many ways --

Gradually I began to realize how little happiness has to do with the fulfillment of outward wishes. The agonies young men suffer when they are in love, however painful, have nothing in common with tragedy. It hurt not to possess Elizabeth, but my life, my freedom, my work, and my thoughts were unimpaired, and I could still love her as much as I wanted from afar.

In stable moments, he finds friendship with a carpenter which again follows by a death -- death of his child. It goes on forever -- he become friends with a cripple and finds happiness for a while in his company -- but he too dies.

During the next two days I was amazed to find myself neither particularly sad nor distressed. I did not weep once. I had experienced parting and separation so deeply during his illness that I had little feeling left now. My grief subsided slowly as I regained my balance.

Finally, he comes back to mountain where he belonged -- And you asked, "Well, Is that the self-realization?" So it's not very clear whether Peter finds content in the mountains or whether he just gave up on the world itself.

When I reflect on all my journeys and efforts to live, I am both pleased and annoyed to have proved the old adage that “fish belong in the water, farmers on the land.” No amount of art will transform a Camenzind from Nimikon into a city dweller. It is a situation to which I am becoming accustomed, and I am glad that my clumsy pursuit of luck has led me back, against my will, to the old nook between lake and mountains where I started, and where the virtues and vices, especially the latter, are the normal, traditional ones. In the world outside I had forgotten what it was like at home and had come very near to regarding myself as some rare and remarkable bird. Now I saw once again that it was merely the spirit of Nimikon spooking about inside me, unable to adjust to the customs of the rest of the world.

Peter Camenzind is not so convincing in its end like the others -- Steppenwolf, Siddhartha or Demian. But it does present a strong case -- whether going against the flow of river really worth the trouble.