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    Siddhartha
    Siddhartha
    Siddhartha
    Ebook183 pages3 hours

    Siddhartha

    By Hermann Hesse

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    About this ebook

    Enriched Classics offer readers accessible editions of great works of literature enhanced by helpful notes and commentary. Each book includes educational tools alongside the text, enabling students and readers alike to gain a deeper and more developed understanding of the writer and their work.

    This allegorical novel, set in sixth-century India around the time of the Buddha, follows a young man on his search for enlightenment.

    This edition includes:
    -A concise introduction that gives the reader important background information
    -A chronology of the author's life and work
    -A timeline of significant events that provides the book's historical context
    -An outline of key themes and plot points to guide the reader's own interpretations
    -Detailed explanatory notes
    -Critical analysis, including contemporary and modern perspectives on the work
    -Discussion questions to promote lively classroom and book group interaction
    -A list of recommended related books and films to broaden the reader's experience
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSimon & Schuster
    Release dateApr 26, 2016
    ISBN9781451686302
    Author

    Hermann Hesse

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

    Read more from Hermann Hesse

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    Reviews for Siddhartha

    4/5

    7,084 ratings142 reviews

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    • 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
      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.
    • 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.
    • 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
      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
      Much has been written from a spiritual and literary view about this famous 1922 book by Nobel Prize winner Hermann Hesse. I will look at it from a historical context perspective. Hesse was born in 1877 into the generation immediately after the German victory of the Franco-Prussian War. Think of the generation in America born after WWII, or in England after the Napoleonic Wars. It was a generation full of bright futures and expectations, Germany would at long last fulfill its destiny on a global stage. As it turned out it was this same generation that lead Germany into the misery and defeat of WWI (1914-17) and the dream and future died in the slaughter of the trenches. So it was in the aftermath in 1922 Hesse the philosopher became popular with Germans with his introspection and inward looking examination of what life really meant, what is really important. The outer world had defeated Germany and it would find strength and solace by looking inward. Perhaps it is not surprising that another generation resonated with this same message of rejecting the outer world and embracing inner vision, the counter-culture of America in the 1960s, when Hesse's book first became widely read and known in English speaking countries.
    • 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".
    • 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.
    • 5/5
      A spiritual journey, told with immense poetry. A guide to buddhism. Hesse is a marvelous writer.
    • 5/5
      This one goes on the pile of to be again and again books. What a marvelous book about finding the meaning of life. I immediately thought of at least two friends who need to have this in their libraries.
    • 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)
    • 5/5
      My first experience with Hermann Hesse came in the fall of 2005 when I took Anthropology of Religion in my senior year at Texas A&M. We read an excerpt from The Glass Bead Game and I was deeply moved by the beauty of Hesse's writing, as were many people, thus earning him the Nobel Prize in 1946.I don't remember when or where I purchased Siddhartha, but the appeal of the story of a spiritual journey and my desire to read more of Hesse's works were too tempting to deny. That being said, I don't know why I've held onto the book for so long without reading it, especially since it is not a very long novel.Siddhartha is beautifully written and mirrors my own spiritual journey. I am of a different faith than the characters in the book, but that is irrelevant to my appreciation of the story. There is much wisdom in the story, and "Wisdom," Siddhartha says, "is not communicable." A wise statement, yes, which then makes it foolish.Wisdom is communicable, but not always through pedagogical language. It is communicated through the sound of a river, a life lived, or a story. This book is a book of wisdom and it must be read carefully and reflectively to be received.
    • 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.
    • 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.

    Book preview

    Siddhartha - Hermann Hesse

    PART ONE

    THE SON OF THE BRAHMIN

    SIDDHARTHA,¹

    the handsome son of the Brahmin,²

    the young falcon, grew up together with his friend Govinda, the Brahmin’s son, in the shadow of the house, in the sun of the riverbank near the boats, in the shadow of the sala³

    forest, and in the shadow of the fig trees. The sun tanned his fair shoulders on the riverbank while he bathed, during the holy cleansing, at the holy sacrifices. Shadows flowed into his black eyes in the mango grove, during the boyish games, when his mother sang, at the holy sacrifices, during the teaching of his father the scholar, and when speaking with the wise ones. For a long time Siddhartha had taken part in the wise ones’ discussions; he had practiced word-wrestling with Govinda, had practiced the art of contemplation and the duty of meditation with Govinda. He already understood how to speak the Om⁴

    silently, that word of words, how to speak it silently in his inner being as he inhaled, how to pronounce it silently out of himself as he exhaled, how to do so with his whole soul while his forehead was enveloped by the radiance of the clear-thinking mind. He already understood how to recognize Atman⁵

    within this inner essence of his that was indestructible and one with the universe.

    Joy sprang up in his father’s heart over the son who was so apt to learn and so thirsty after knowledge; he saw growing within him a great sage and priest, a prince among the Brahmins.

    Delight welled up in his mother’s heart when she saw him taking long strides, saw him sitting down and standing up: Siddhartha the strong and handsome, who strode upon lean legs and who greeted her with impeccable manners.

    All the young daughters of the Brahmins felt love stirring within their hearts when Siddhartha walked through the side-streets of the city with a beaming face, a lean physique, and a royal look in his eyes.

    Govinda the Brahmin’s son, however, loved him more than all of these. He loved the eye of Siddhartha and his sweet voice, his gait and the perfection of his movements; he loved everything that Siddhartha did and said, and above all he loved Siddhartha’s mind, his sublime and fiery thoughts, his blazing will, and Siddhartha’s high calling. Govinda knew that this would be no ordinary Brahmin, no lazy official presiding over the sacrifices, no money-grubbing merchant hawking magic trinkets, no vain and vacuous speaker, no wicked and lying priest, and also not a good-hearted but dim-witted sheep in the plebeian herds. Govinda didn’t want to be such a person either, didn’t want to be a Brahmin like all the ten thousand other Brahmins. He wanted to follow Siddhartha, who was beloved and majestic. When Siddhartha first became a god, when he entered into the radiance, then Govinda wanted to follow him as his friend, his escort, his servant, his spear-carrier, and his shadow.

    In this manner, everyone loved Siddhartha. He brought everyone joy; he pleased everyone.

    However, Siddhartha didn’t bring himself joy; he didn’t please himself. He strolled on the rosy paths of the fig gardens, sat in the blue shadows of the grove of meditation, washed his limbs daily in baths of atonement, and sacrificed in the deep shadows of the mango forest. Everyone loved him; he was joyous to them, and yet he carried no joy in his own heart. Dreams and restless thoughts came flowing to him out of the river’s water, twinkled to him from the stars of the night, melted out of the sunbeams. Dreams and anxiety came billowing out of the sacrificial smoke, whispering from the verses of the Rig-Veda,⁶

    or trickling out of the old Brahmin’s teachings.

    Siddhartha had started to cultivate the seed of discontent within himself. He had started to feel like his father’s love, his mother’s love, and the love of his friend Govinda wouldn’t make him happy forever, wouldn’t bring him peace, satisfy him, and be sufficient for all time. He had started to suspect that his illustrious father, his other teachers, and the wise Brahmins had shared the majority and the best of their wisdom with him, that they had already poured their all into his ready vessel without filling the vessel: the mind wasn’t satisfied, the soul wasn’t quiet, the heart wasn’t stilled. The purifications were nice, but they were just water, and didn’t wash away sins; they didn’t cure the mental thirst or allay his heart’s anxiety. Sacrifices and invocations to the gods were superb—but were they sufficient? Did the sacrifices bring happiness? And what about all those gods? Was Prajapati⁷

    really the one who had created the world? Wasn’t it Atman, He who was the Only One, the All-One? Weren’t the gods creatures, created just like you and I were: subject to time and transitory? Was it even good, was it right, did it make sense or was it important to sacrifice to the gods? To whom else would one sacrifice, to whom else should one bring worship other than Him, the Only, the Atman? And where could Atman be found, where did he live, where did his eternal heart beat—where else other than in the self, in one’s inner being, in the indestructible part of each person that they carried within themselves? But where was this self, where was this inner being, this most paramount thing? It was not made of flesh or the legs that carried it, it wasn’t just the thoughts or the awareness—or so taught the wisest men. Where then was it? One had to penetrate that far into the self, into myself, into the Atman—was there some other way, however, a search which still yielded worthwhile results? Ah, but nobody pointed to this way, nobody knew it: not father, not the teachers and wise ones, not the holy chants sung during sacrifices! They knew everything, those Brahmins and their holy books. They knew everything, they had concerned themselves with everything and with more than everything: the creation of the world, the origins of language, of foods, of inhalation and exhalation, the institution of the senses, the deeds of the gods—they knew an inordinate amount, and yet was it worthwhile to know everything like this when one didn’t know the one and only thing that was most important—that which alone was important?

    To be sure, many verses from the holy books—especially the Upanishads⁸

    of the Sama-Veda⁹

    —spoke about these innermost and most important things—majestic verses. Your soul is the whole world was written there; it was also written that the person who slept in the deepest slumber went within to their innermost place and lived in Atman. Wonderful wisdom stood within these verses, all the wisdom of the wisest was gathered there in the magical words, pure like the honey gathered by the bees. No, the behemoth of knowledge that innumerable generations of wise Brahmins had gathered and protected there wasn’t to be lightly esteemed. But where were the Brahmins, where were the priests, the wise ones and the penitents—those who were successful not only in knowing this deepest wisdom but also in living it? Where were the elders who could merge this Atman of their dreams with the waking being, to bring it fully into their lives and into their words and deeds? Siddhartha knew many venerable Brahmins—not the least of whom was his father, who was pure, scholarly, and highly esteemed. His father was admirable: his habits were quiet and elegant, his life pure, his words wise, and the thoughts that inhabited his brow were both fine and noble—but did he who possessed so much wisdom live a blessed life? Did he have joy; wasn’t he also a mere seeker, one who had thirst? Did not he, who had thirst, have to receive a holy quenching of this thirst by drinking time and time again at the sacrifices, at the books, at the conversations of the Brahmins? Why did he, who was irreproachable, have to wash out his sins every day, have to expend great effort once more to attain purification each and every day. Wasn’t Atman in him; didn’t the ancient spring flow in his heart? The ancient spring must be found in one’s own self; one must own it! Everything else was just a search, a detour; it was to go astray.

    Thus went Siddhartha’s thoughts; this was his thirst, his sorrow.

    He often spoke to himself out of the Chandogya-Upanishad: "Verily, the name of the Brahman is Satyam¹⁰

    —in truth, one who knows this enters daily into the heavenly world." This heavenly world often appeared close, but he had never totally reached it; never had he quenched the ultimate thirst. Furthermore, among all the wise ones whom he knew whose teaching he had savored—even the wisest—among them all there were none who had totally reached the heavenly world, who had completely quenched the eternal thirst.

    Govinda, said Siddhartha to his friend, Govinda, beloved, come with me among the Banyan trees, and we will practice meditating.

    They went to the Banyan trees and sat down: here Siddhartha, and Govinda twenty paces farther. When Siddhartha sat down, ready to speak the Om, he murmured and repeated the verse:

    "Om is the bow; the arrow is the soul,

    The Brahman is the arrow’s goal

    That one should continuously hit."

    When the usual time for practicing meditation had passed, Govinda rose up. The twilight had come and it was time to perform the cleansing of the evening hour. He called Siddhartha’s name. Siddhartha gave no answer. Siddhartha sat with his eyes open, immersed, staring with his eyes fixed upon a very far goal; the tip of his tongue stuck out a little between his teeth and he didn’t appear to be breathing. Thus he sat, shrouded in meditation, thinking Om, his soul sent out like an arrow after the Brahman.

    Once, the Samanas¹¹

    pulled through Siddhartha’s town. They were pilgrims and ascetics: three scraggly, worn-out men who were neither old nor young, with dusty and bloody shoulders. They were nearly naked, singed by the sun, given over to loneliness, strangers and enemies of the world, and estranged, gaunt jackals in the domain of mankind. From behind them wafted a hot scent of quiet passion, of a duty that destroys, of a merciless self-effacing.

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

    Govinda paled when he heard these words and saw the resolution in the stony face of his friend, a resolution that, like the swiftest arrow let loose from the bow, could never be deflected. As soon as Govinda glimpsed this, he recognized: now it begins; now Siddhartha goes his own way; now his fate begins to sprout, and with his, mine. Govinda paled like the peel of a dry banana.

    O Siddhartha, he called, will your father allow you to do that?

    Siddhartha glanced at his friend like one just waking up. As quickly as the arrow flies, he read Govinda’s soul; he read the anxiety and the devotion there.

    O Govinda, he said quietly, don’t waste any words on this. Tomorrow at daybreak I will begin a Samana’s life. Don’t discuss this any more.

    Siddhartha stepped in the chamber where his father sat on a raffia mat, and walked behind his father, standing there until his father sensed that someone was standing behind him. The Brahmin spoke: Is that you, Siddhartha? Well, say what you have come here to say.

    Siddhartha spoke: With your permission, my father, I have come to say to you that I am desirous of leaving your house tomorrow and going to the ascetics. My wish is to become a Samana. May my father not be opposed to this.

    The Brahmin was silent, and silent so long that in the little window the stars wandered and changed their configuration before the silence in the chamber found an end. Silent and still, the son stood with crossed arms; silent and still, the father sat on the mat, and the stars moved in the heavens. Then the father spoke: "It is not fitting for the Brahmins to speak with severe and scornful words. Yet, I see displeasure moving your heart. I would not like to hear this request come out of your mouth a second

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