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    Siddhartha
    Siddhartha
    Siddhartha
    Ebook139 pages3 hours

    Siddhartha

    By Hermann Hesse

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    About this ebook

    Siddhartha is an allegorical novel by Hermann Hesse which deals with the spiritual journey of an Indian boy called Siddhartha during the time of the Buddha.
    The book, Hesse's ninth novel, was written in German, in a simple, yet powerful and lyrical, style. It was first published in 1922, after Hesse had spent some time in India in the 1910s. It was published in the U.S. in 1951 and became influential during the 1960s.
    The word Siddhartha is made up of two words in the Sanskrit language, siddha (gotten) + artha (meaning or wealth). The two words together mean "one who has found meaning (of existence)" or "he who has attained his goals". The Buddha's name, before his renunciation, was Prince Siddhartha Gautama, later the Buddha. In this book, the Buddha is referred to as "Gotama".
    Source: Wikipedia

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBooklassic
    Release dateJun 18, 2015
    ISBN9789635239399
    Author

    Hermann Hesse

    Hermann Hesse was born in 1877. His books include Siddhartha, Steppenwolf, Narcissus and Goldmund, and Magister Ludi. He died in 1962.

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    4/5

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    • 4/5
      SiddharthaBy: Hermann HesseNarrated by: Christopher PreeceThis is an audible book I requested and the review is voluntary. This is the first time I actually understand this book. I have read this book before a few times but it is a difficult book to read. For me, it is hard to stay focused and follow what is going on at times. With this audible book, with this narrator, I finally got the flow of the book! That's a big plus. Once I understood the basics of what was going on, I understood more. Do I understand all? No, but I get it a lot more. The narrator was wonderful with a clear, soothing voice that was perfect!
    • 4/5
      This is the second time I have read this book, and it is quite fascinating. An allegorical novel, Siddhartha follows the life of Siddhartha, a son of a Brahmin, and his religious and spiritual search for the Ultimate. We follow Siddhartha as he leaves his father's religion and house to become an ascetic. After many years of studying with the Samanas, he abandons the community to become a man of the world. He becomes rich and powerful, but even then he is not satisfied, and contemplates taking his own life to end his suffering. But, just as he is about to throw himself into the river, he hears a sound that will change him forever...Experiments in Reading
    • 5/5
      Very good book. Gives everything apart from actual enlightenment.
    • 5/5
      A well-to-do Brahman by birth, as a young man Siddhartha leaves home to pursue a spiritual satisfaction he hasn’t found in his father’s traditional teachings and practices. Throughout his life he follows his inner voice, learning from forest-dwelling ascetics, a brief stay with Gautama Buddha, friendships he forms with a courtesan and a wealthy businessman, and, finally, from an old ferryman, with whom he lives his own elder years. Slowly Siddhartha finds his own path to holiness, which he reaches only when he finally leaves teachings behind and simply recognizes the unity of all existence. What a beautiful tale this is, and one I’ll be revisiting again and again.
    • 5/5
      A great, spiritual read. Tells the tale of Siddhartha, a young man with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, till he finally hears the answer from a river.
    • 5/5
      A classic covering a man's journey in his discovery of the purpose of life. Easy to read and a most agreeable conclusion.
    • 5/5
      An all-time classic. A moving fictionalized account of the Buddha's awakening. A quick yet moving and unforgettable tale.
    • 4/5
      A book everyone should read about a man's spiritual journey.
    • 4/5
      Read it when you're a teenager or if you're searching.
    • 4/5
      Beautiful story about one man's spiritual journey. I think everyone should have a copy.
    • 4/5
      Having only read one novel by Hesse before ("The Glass Bead Game,") this slim little volume wasn't what I expected when I requested "Siddhartha" from the library. Although this is a rather simple story, I found it to be a pretty enjoyable read.Siddhartha is a young Brahmin who goes through a number of phases in his lifetime, which contribute to his ultimate understanding of the universe. Hesse's simple style in this novel works well for the story, which was a fun read.
    • 4/5
      This review is specifically for the audio version read by Geoffrey Giuliano. This is a pretty suitable book for audio. It is only about five hours long and the story is straightforward. The narrator does a good job, but whoever records the intro and outro sections sounds like a maniac. I almost stopped listening after a few seconds.As for the book, it is one I've had on my shelf for decades but never read. I read Hesse's Steppenwolf, when I was a teen or maybe in my early twenties; I remember liking it but don't remember anything else about it. I thought Siddhartha was about the Buddha, but in fact, it is about someone who meets the Buddha but, while appreciating his teachings, realizes that you cannot achieve nirvana through teachings. One line I particularly remember is that knowledge can be taught, but wisdom cannot. During the course of the story, Siddhartha tries out many lifestyles and can be said to succeed in all of them, but he is still finding. Which relates to another great quote, which is that those who seek cannot find, because they are too focused on what they are seeking. Meaning they miss out on all the other things around them. By the end of the book, Siddhartha seems to have found what he needs to find. Whether or not you as a reader can embrace his ultimate philosophy is up to you. The contradictory nature of the book is that Siddhartha would probably tell you not to--you have to find your own.
    • 4/5
      Nonsensical ideologies and philosophies aside, I really enjoyed this book. From a literary perspective, the author (and translator) did a masterful job of sucking me into the life and mind of Siddhartha. I felt like I was on a roller coaster of emotions and story lines and the protagonist journeyed through a life of seeking.
    • 5/5
      This is quite possibly the most beautiful book I have ever read. It touched me emotionally, philosophically, spiritually, etc. Hesse really knocked this one out of the park about a man in search of truth and self-identity.
    • 3/5
      This is quite low down on my TBR's but I wanted a quick read as I'm going on holiday soon and have a whole set of books to take with me but wanted to start them whilst I was away!I liked this book. It was very easy to get into, and I lost myself within it. I enjoyed the rather simple language, what it was about, the characters and the feel of the book in general.
    • 4/5
      The journey to enlightenment travelled by Siddhartha as demonstrated through living his life rather than learning about enlightenment.
    • 3/5
      Considered a classic, but very repetitive in English. Perhaps it is better in the original German. It touches on the paradoxes of life and is difficult to truly understand, which I guess is the point.
    • 2/5
      I seem to remember writing a book report for this in junior high or high school, but I don't recall that I ever actually read it. I wonder what the then me, being naive and impressionable, would have thought if I had read it. I know that I couldn't then, as now, read into a book and pull out what the author was thinking - or at least make up some nonsense about what I think the author was thinking. Regardless, the current me found this to be rather simple and preachy...with yet another, "oh, please" ending.
    • 4/5
      I liked this much more than I expected to. As a young man the Brahmin Siddhartha leaves his father to be a samana, a monk of sorts, searching for truth and enlightenment. He then begins to follow one man known as a Buddha. After much time with him, he decides he is ready for something else, knowing nothing of women or the ways of the world. He becomes a successful businessman and a lover--and years later realizes how much of his wisdom and skill has been lost (how to wait, how to fast...). He leaves his lover and business and becomes a ferryman, with the man who ferried him years before. There he gains happiness and wisdom, and knowledge of the cycle and sameness of all life and time.
    • 2/5
      Such a slog.
    • 4/5
      Fantastic book.
    • 4/5
      Prachtige parabel, zij het soms iets te pathetisch. Ook Bildungsroman: alle stadia en ervaringen van het menselijke leven komen aan bod. Centrale boodschap aan ons westerlingen: "Zoeken is niet vinden".
    • 4/5
      A man starts his journey to find the meaning and the goal of the life really a great one from herman.
    • 5/5
      A spiritual journey, told with immense poetry. A guide to buddhism. Hesse is a marvelous writer.
    • 3/5
      Siddhartha is a deliberately simply written novella that were it not written by an author of such stature as Hesse would probably have been dismissed as an example of empty Eastern mumbo jumbo and Orientalism.I found the book's prose quite delightful in its simplicity and its message is quite uplifting too. I don't think there's any particularly deep mystery or insight provided in this book but that doesn't mean it's not a good read. It's a sort of old fashioned fable / parable and if you start the book expecting something like that I doubt you'll be disappointed. It's only if you go into the book expecting to find the meaning of life or an intricately plotted epic that you'll come out at the end disappointed.
    • 4/5
      The most important prolegomena to reading this story of a soul searching is that it's not intended to be historical. When the protagonist, Siddhartha, meets Gotama Buddha at the start of the book, I was pretty damn confused. Once I got past that this was a great book.Siddhartha is a young man on a quest. His expected caste life as a priest offering sacrifices does not satisfy him. He leaves his family to become a wandering ascetic, making his life revolve around the skills of fasting, waiting, and thinking. He wanders through many walks of life, always needing to find his own truth rather than learn from another. Through all these different walks of life, he finds the Self, the Siddhartha behind the holy man, behind the businessman, behind the lover. The extended climax of this non-plot-oriented novel is Siddhartha's realization that he has found what he was searching for.This book, like the last one I read by Paulo Coelho, has very little plot or action, and is told more like a fable or even a parable. Its specific teaching is an indeterminate or vaguely hatched discovery of the character's own arrogance, the dead end of purely cognitive understanding, and the acceptance of his inability to grasp onto current realities and break outside th larger saga of human life. The overtones even feel more Hindu than Buddhist. But the journey of discovery is more important to this reader than the results. Recommended for people who like this sort of story, but also not as good as the other Hesse I read, [Narcissus and Goldmund].Quotes:"Siddhartha now also realized why he had struggled in vain with this Self when he was a Brahmin and an ascetic. Too much knowledge has hindered him; too many holy verses, too many sacrificial rites, too much mortificiation of the flesh, too much doing and striving." (77)"He felt that he had now completely learned the art of listening. He had often heard all this before, all these numerous voices in the river, but today they sounded different. He could no longer distinguish the different voices - the merry voice from the weeping voice, the childish voice from the manly voice. They all belonged to each other: the lament of those who yearn, the laughter of the wise, the cry of indignation and groan of the dying. They were all interwoven and interlocked, entwined in a thousand ways." (105)
    • 1/5
      I started this book with a conception that it's about lord Buddha. but as it has nothing to do with lord Buddha, this book was a big disappointment.
    • 3/5
      I wonder if this book felt like more of a revelation when most readers didn't know much about the Buddha. It was charming and engaging in places, but I found it a little slight.
    • 5/5
      The quintessential epiphany for anyone on a spiritual journey just might be found in this novella because the protagonist is the only journeyer smart enough to realize that since enlightenment comes from within, clinging to a teacher/guru/sponsor/mentor or to traditional religion (or converting to any new one of the above) will always be a stumbling block to true spiritual progress, because no one can ever hammer out his own answers to life’s seemingly impervious questions and thereby secure his own release from virtually interminable reincarnations by studying and following the answers of someone else. During part of his journey, Siddhartha scored extra points when he laughed in the face of the world of commerce because he intuitively knew that it was a ridiculous game. Yet he dabbled in this counterproductive and materialistic realm for a season because he needed to learn some lessons for having done so. Siddhartha is a valuable read because it’s a picture of the life of a man who took life’s lessons seriously. It also shows how everything can come together and make sense in the end if we work for it.
    • 4/5
      First word that comes to mind. Transcendent. This is a fictional account of a man seeking peace and wisdom. Excellent book.

    Book preview

    Siddhartha - Hermann Hesse

    978-963-523-939-9

    Part 1

    To Romain Rolland, my dear friend

    THE SON OF THE BRAHMAN

    In the shade of the house, in the sunshine of the riverbank near the boats, in the shade of the Sal-wood forest, in the shade of the fig tree is where Siddhartha grew up, the handsome son of the Brahman, the young falcon, together with his friend Govinda, son of a Brahman. The sun tanned his light shoulders by the banks of the river when bathing, performing the sacred ablutions, the sacred offerings. In the mango grove, shade poured into his black eyes, when playing as a boy, when his mother sang, when the sacred offerings were made, when his father, the scholar, taught him, when the wise men talked. For a long time, Siddhartha had been partaking in the discussions of the wise men, practising debate with Govinda, practising with Govinda the art of reflection, the service of meditation. He already knew how to speak the Om silently, the word of words, to speak it silently into himself while inhaling, to speak it silently out of himself while exhaling, with all the concentration of his soul, the forehead surrounded by the glow of the clear-thinking spirit. He already knew to feel Atman in the depths of his being, indestructible, one with the universe.

    Joy leapt in his father's heart for his son who was quick to learn, thirsty for knowledge; he saw him growing up to become great wise man and priest, a prince among the Brahmans.

    Bliss leapt in his mother's breast when she saw him, when she saw him walking, when she saw him sit down and get up, Siddhartha, strong, handsome, he who was walking on slender legs, greeting her with perfect respect.

    Love touched the hearts of the Brahmans' young daughters when Siddhartha walked through the lanes of the town with the luminous forehead, with the eye of a king, with his slim hips.

    But more than all the others he was loved by Govinda, his friend, the son of a Brahman. He loved Siddhartha's eye and sweet voice, he loved his walk and the perfect decency of his movements, he loved everything Siddhartha did and said and what he loved most was his spirit, his transcendent, fiery thoughts, his ardent will, his high calling. Govinda knew: he would not become a common Brahman, not a lazy official in charge of offerings; not a greedy merchant with magic spells; not a vain, vacuous speaker; not a mean, deceitful priest; and also not a decent, stupid sheep in the herd of the many. No, and he, Govinda, as well did not want to become one of those, not one of those tens of thousands of Brahmans. He wanted to follow Siddhartha, the beloved, the splendid. And in days to come, when Siddhartha would become a god, when he would join the glorious, then Govinda wanted to follow him as his friend, his companion, his servant, his spear-carrier, his shadow.

    Siddhartha was thus loved by everyone. He was a source of joy for everybody, he was a delight for them all.

    But he, Siddhartha, was not a source of joy for himself, he found no delight in himself. Walking the rosy paths of the fig tree garden, sitting in the bluish shade of the grove of contemplation, washing his limbs daily in the bath of repentance, sacrificing in the dim shade of the mango forest, his gestures of perfect decency, everyone's love and joy, he still lacked all joy in his heart. Dreams and restless thoughts came into his mind, flowing from the water of the river, sparkling from the stars of the night, melting from the beams of the sun, dreams came to him and a restlessness of the soul, fuming from the sacrifices, breathing forth from the verses of the Rig-Veda, being infused into him, drop by drop, from the teachings of the old Brahmans.

    Siddhartha had started to nurse discontent in himself, he had started to feel that the love of his father and the love of his mother, and also the love of his friend, Govinda, would not bring him joy for ever and ever, would not nurse him, feed him, satisfy him. He had started to suspect that his venerable father and his other teachers, that the wise Brahmans had already revealed to him the most and best of their wisdom, that they had already filled his expecting vessel with their richness, and the vessel was not full, the spirit was not content, the soul was not calm, the heart was not satisfied. The ablutions were good, but they were water, they did not wash off the sin, they did not heal the spirit's thirst, they did not relieve the fear in his heart. The sacrifices and the invocation of the gods were excellent—but was that all? Did the sacrifices give a happy fortune? And what about the gods? Was it really Prajapati who had created the world? Was it not the Atman, He, the only one, the singular one? Were the gods not creations, created like me and you, subject to time, mortal? Was it therefore good, was it right, was it meaningful and the highest occupation to make offerings to the gods? For whom else were offerings to be made, who else was to be worshipped but Him, the only one, the Atman? And where was Atman to be found, where did He reside, where did his eternal heart beat, where else but in one's own self, in its innermost part, in its indestructible part, which everyone had in himself? But where, where was this self, this innermost part, this ultimate part? It was not flesh and bone, it was neither thought nor consciousness, thus the wisest ones taught. So, where, where was it? To reach this place, the self, myself, the Atman, there was another way, which was worthwhile looking for? Alas, and nobody showed this way, nobody knew it, not the father, and not the teachers and wise men, not the holy sacrificial songs! They knew everything, the Brahmans and their holy books, they knew everything, they had taken care of everything and of more than everything, the creation of the world, the origin of speech, of food, of inhaling, of exhaling, the arrangement of the senses, the acts of the gods, they knew infinitely much—but was it valuable to know all of this, not knowing that one and only thing, the most important thing, the solely important thing?

    Surely, many verses of the holy books, particularly in the Upanishades of Samaveda, spoke of this innermost and ultimate thing, wonderful verses. Your soul is the whole world, was written there, and it was written that man in his sleep, in his deep sleep, would meet with his innermost part and would reside in the Atman. Marvellous wisdom was in these verses, all knowledge of the wisest ones had been collected here in magic words, pure as honey collected by bees. No, not to be looked down upon was the tremendous amount of enlightenment which lay here collected and preserved by innumerable generations of wise Brahmans.— But where were the Brahmans, where the priests, where the wise men or penitents, who had succeeded in not just knowing this deepest of all knowledge but also to live it? Where was the knowledgeable one who wove his spell to bring his familiarity with the Atman out of the sleep into the state of being awake, into the life, into every step of the way, into word and deed? Siddhartha knew many venerable Brahmans, chiefly his father, the pure one, the scholar, the most venerable one. His father was to be admired, quiet and noble were his manners, pure his life, wise his words, delicate and noble thoughts lived behind its brow —but even he, who knew so much, did he live in blissfulness, did he have peace, was he not also just a searching man, a thirsty man? Did he not, again and again, have to drink from holy sources, as a thirsty man, from the offerings, from the books, from the disputes of the Brahmans? Why did he, the irreproachable one, have to wash off sins every day, strive for a cleansing every day, over and over every day? Was not Atman in him, did not the pristine source spring from his heart? It had to be found, the pristine source in one's own self, it had to be possessed! Everything else was searching, was a detour, was getting lost.

    Thus were Siddhartha's thoughts, this was his thirst, this was his suffering.

    Often he spoke to himself from a Chandogya-Upanishad the words: Truly, the name of the Brahman is satyam—verily, he who knows such a thing, will enter the heavenly world every day. Often, it seemed near, the heavenly world, but never he had reached it completely, never he had quenched the ultimate thirst. And among all the wise and wisest men, he knew and whose instructions he had received, among all of them there was no one, who had reached it completely, the heavenly world, who had quenched it completely, the eternal thirst.

    Govinda, Siddhartha spoke to his friend, Govinda, my dear, come with me under the Banyan tree, let's practise meditation.

    They went to the Banyan tree, they sat down, Siddhartha right here, Govinda twenty paces away. While putting himself down, ready to speak the Om, Siddhartha repeated murmuring the verse:

    Om is the bow, the arrow is soul, The Brahman is the arrow's target, That one should incessantly hit.

    After the usual time of the exercise in meditation had passed, Govinda rose. The evening had come, it was time to perform the evening's ablution. He called Siddhartha's name. Siddhartha did not answer. Siddhartha sat there lost in thought, his eyes were rigidly focused towards a very distant target, the tip of his tongue was protruding a little between the teeth, he seemed not to breathe. Thus sat he, wrapped up in contemplation, thinking Om, his soul sent after the Brahman as an arrow.

    Once, Samanas had travelled through Siddhartha's town, ascetics on a pilgrimage, three skinny, withered men, neither old nor young, with dusty and bloody shoulders, almost naked, scorched by the sun, surrounded by loneliness, strangers and enemies to the world, strangers and lank jackals in the realm of humans. Behind them blew a hot scent of quiet passion, of destructive service, of merciless self-denial.

    In the evening, after the hour of contemplation, Siddhartha spoke to Govinda: Early tomorrow morning, my friend, Siddhartha will go to the Samanas. He will become a Samana.

    Govinda turned pale, when he heard these words and read the decision in the motionless face of his friend, unstoppable like the arrow shot from the bow. Soon and with the first glance, Govinda realized: Now it is beginning, now Siddhartha is taking his own way, now his fate is beginning to sprout, and with his, my own. And he turned pale like a dry banana-skin.

    O Siddhartha, he exclaimed, will your father permit you to do that?

    Siddhartha looked over as if he was just waking up. Arrow-fast he read in Govinda's soul, read the fear, read the submission.

    O Govinda, he spoke quietly, let's not waste words. Tomorrow, at daybreak I will begin the life of the Samanas. Speak no more of it.

    Siddhartha entered the chamber, where his father was sitting on a mat of bast, and stepped behind his father and remained standing there, until his father felt that someone was standing behind him. Quoth the Brahman: Is that you, Siddhartha? Then say what you came to say.

    Quoth Siddhartha: "With your permission, my father. I came to tell you that it is

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