Two things made me read Siddhartha.  First, a friend insisted that I needed to read it.  Second, another friend made me take some little online test.  Something like: “What Great Work of Literature Are YOU?” or some such nonsense.  Well, I faithfully answered all its questions and it told me I was Siddhartha.  Well, “nonsense” indeed.  After reading the book, I find that I am this book.  Bloody brilliant little darned book quiz.

It’s about a man searching for enlightenment in many ways and through many paths.  He first leaves a cushy existence to try and find his way in a land of denial.  Denying the world, denying reality, and denying his inner feelings.  Learning how to simply think, fast, and wait.  But he eventually decides that this is not his path to enlightenment.

So then he seeks enlightenment through embracing the world and all its sensory pleasures.  He comes to know a courtesan and merchant, trying to find his purpose through appreciation of his own inner desires.  But these things also do not bring him happiness.  So he keeps seeking.  What IS that elusive meaning of life?

I think my life parallels the book up to about page 84 or so.  That’s about where I am right now in my life.  I’m sure I’ll find somewhere, settle down, and find enlightenment in something.  But a seeker can’t be taught wisdom; it must be learned through experience. I hope as I progress that the rest of the book is as parallel to my life as the first 84 or so pages.  The extended journey has been worth it so far.  I’m looking forward to seeing how it all ends.

Absolutely top marks on the Hurst scale.  I kept thinking the whole time that I can’t believe it was written by a human being.  The whole book feels otherworldly somehow.  A fantastic read – and clocking in at under 150 pages.  That’s my kind of book.  Maybe I haven’t found my ideal place yet, but I’ve found a good book.  Steppenwolf is now on my to-read list.