Julia_98 reviewed Narcissus and Goldmund by Hermann Hesse
Two Roads, One Soul: My Reflections on Hesse’s Narcissus and Goldmund
5 stars
Reading Narcissus and Goldmund by Hermann Hesse felt like watching two parts of myself walk in different directions. On one side, Narcissus—disciplined, cerebral, a monk who lives by order and intellect. On the other, Goldmund—wild, sensuous, always chasing life’s beauty and sorrow. I couldn’t help but feel torn between them.
Their bond begins in a monastery, but soon Goldmund sets off to wander, abandoning spiritual discipline for a path of instinct, art, and love. I followed him through his joy and ruin, feeling the pull of freedom and the cost it exacts. Every encounter he had—with lovers, landscapes, and death—felt deeply human, painfully fleeting.
Meanwhile, Narcissus remains rooted, faithful to thought and structure. When their paths cross again, years later, I saw not just a reunion, but a mirror—each man incomplete without the other. That struck me hard. We all crave meaning, but we chase it in such different ways. …
Reading Narcissus and Goldmund by Hermann Hesse felt like watching two parts of myself walk in different directions. On one side, Narcissus—disciplined, cerebral, a monk who lives by order and intellect. On the other, Goldmund—wild, sensuous, always chasing life’s beauty and sorrow. I couldn’t help but feel torn between them.
Their bond begins in a monastery, but soon Goldmund sets off to wander, abandoning spiritual discipline for a path of instinct, art, and love. I followed him through his joy and ruin, feeling the pull of freedom and the cost it exacts. Every encounter he had—with lovers, landscapes, and death—felt deeply human, painfully fleeting.
Meanwhile, Narcissus remains rooted, faithful to thought and structure. When their paths cross again, years later, I saw not just a reunion, but a mirror—each man incomplete without the other. That struck me hard. We all crave meaning, but we chase it in such different ways.
Hesse’s writing is reflective and poetic, but never distant. He made me question the life I live and the life I might be afraid to live. Narcissus and Goldmund isn’t just a story—it’s a meditation on art, mortality, and the balance between the mind and the body.
By the end, I didn’t choose a side. I couldn’t. Maybe the point is that we’re meant to be both—thinkers and dreamers, seekers and still ones. Just like them.
