The Journey to the East

by Hermann Hesse, Hilda Rosner (Translator)

"It was destiny that gave me that fabulous adventure. I participated in that unique journey, whose miraculous incidents shone like meteors. Today I want to try the short and concise description of that incredible odyssey." Novelist and poet, Hermann Hesse (1877-1962), based his work on the search for individual spirituality and felt throughout his life a great attraction to Buddhism and India. In 1946 he received the Nobel Prize for literature.

Genres: Fiction, Classics, Philosophy, Literature, German Literature, Novels, Spirituality

128 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1932

About the author

Many works, including Siddhartha (1922) and Steppenwolf (1927), of German-born Swiss writer Hermann Hesse concern the struggle of the individual to find wholeness and meaning in life; he won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1946.

Other best-known works of this poet, novelist, and painter include The Glass Bead Game , which, also known as Magister Ludi, explore a search of an individual for spirituality outside society.

In his time, Hesse was a popular and influential author in the German-speaking world; worldwide fame only came later. Young Germans desiring a different and more "natural" way of life at the time of great economic and technological progress in the country, received enthusiastically Peter Camenzind , first great novel of Hesse.

Throughout Germany, people named many schools. In 1964, people founded the Calwer Hermann-Hesse-Preis, awarded biennially, alternately to a German-language literary journal or to the translator of work of Hesse to a foreign language. The city of Karlsruhe, Germany, also associates a Hermann Hesse prize.

Reviews

[Vit Babenco · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Journey to the East… A journey both hallucinatory and spiritual… An intellectual derision and mystical mockery…

It was my destiny to join in a great experience. Having had the good fortune to belong to the League, I was permitted to be a participant in a unique journey. What wonder it had at the time! How radiant and comet-like it seemed, and how quickly it has been forgotten and allowed to fall into disrepute.

The narrator’s comparison of this venture to Mad Roland’s journey at once sets the tone to the tale… The goal of the quest was to comprehend a cosmic enigma… But all the participants had their personal goals too…

…many members of the League had set themselves goals which, although I respected, I could not fully understand. For example, one of them was a treasure-seeker and he thought of nothing else but of winning a great treasure which he called “Tao.” Still another had conceived the idea of capturing a certain snake to which he attributed magical powers and which he called Kundalini. My own journey and life-goal, which had colored my dreams since my late boyhood, was to see the beautiful Princess Fatima and, if possible, to win her love.

Spiritual journeys to faraway destinations require a little bit of madness.

[Ben Winch · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is an anomaly in Hesse’s oeuvre – a personal piece in which he risks alienating his wider audience, and yet in another sense his most universal work. It’s true, I say this having had few successes in recommending it, yet so far no-one I’ve given it to has disliked it, even if it has left them frustrated or puzzled or underwhelmed. The crux of it is, it’s the story of a failure. An inevitable failure, I would say, but as Hesse himself says early in the piece, “the seemingly impossible must continually be attempted”. What, then, is the seemingly impossible attempt made here? It’s twofold: the telling of an untellable story, the making of an impossible journey. That the narrator fails in the telling should not surprise us; he warns us of this inevitability from the story’s start. That he has failed in his journey – though he himself, at first, is unaware of it – is also unsurprising, given that the journey’s goal is spiritual enlightenment, the absolute, a realm denied to humans except in glimpses.

So. I feel keenly the irony of my reviewing this book as I sit in this far-from-perfect setting and write this. Like H.H., the narrator of The Journey..., I am depressed, self-pitying, unable to grasp with the greatest effort what once came so naturally, and sitting in the courtyard of a small-town cafe while children scream, dogs bark and a table of people unfurl punchline after punchline at the next table, laughing uproariously. Like H.H., I am also without music, having left my i-Pod at home through some oversight, and back home are three children not my own, two of whom, I’ll wager, are screaming, shouting and brawling as I write this… And then there’s this book – this brief book in which I’ve sought my own balm for twenty years or more, having read it five, maybe six times since I first found it in a secondhand store in Adelaide in my late teens.

The book! It’s personal. Hesse had tried something like this before, with Steppenwolf, when he submitted to his publishers a collection of ultra-personal poems which he intended to accompany the novel, but these were deemed too indulgent, too angry, too obscure for a wider readership, and were held back to be published separately in a limited edition. So with The Journey..., I guess Hesse put his foot down, determined to speak from his heart with as little translation as possible. And the result, to the casual reader, can admittedly be baffling. But even to the teenage me, it wasn’t alienating. Just read over the references that make no sense. The important part – the universal part – is the story of faith gained, lost and gained again. And the failure is just a part of the cycle. The two characters – H.H. and Leo – are mirror images, two parts of a whole, at least symbolically, and Leo’s apparent desertion (later revealed to be anything but) is the point at which faith becomes despair. H.H., despairing, self-absorbed; Leo, faithful, selfless. H.H., author, mortal; Leo, character, immortal. Read this way, the ending is uplifting, not a fade-to-grey. And the story is a dream-picture of sleep and awakening.

Ugh, I’m aware that as a review this makes about as much sense as The Journey... makes as a novel. Novel? I don’t even know if it is a novel. Novella, maybe. And a novella in which you won’t find a three-dimensional character or more than one or two niceties of plot: writer and ex-journeyer attempts and fails to write the story of a failed journey, but in the process reveals the truth about that failure. Like all of Hesse’s stories, it’s a story of self-discovery. Like Steppenwolf (whose narrator, Harry Haller, is another H.H.), it’s also a fairly naked and often despairing self-portrait. Yet it takes us one step beyond that despair and self-absorption – takes us to the brink of its demise, once and for all, in Hesse’s fiction. And in showing an awakening from the inside out it achieves something difficult and valuable and profound.

And besides, it’s beautiful. Unique. Magical. All things my teenage self understood perfectly, even as he struggled with the rest of it. If what you value in fiction – and in Hesse – is instinctive striving after enlightenment, it’s for you. That hallucination at the end of Siddhartha – that’s what I love in Hesse, and it’s in its most potent form here. A classic.

[Susan Budd · Rating 5 out of 5]

When I first read The Journey to the East in my youth, I was not ready for it. Having just reread it, I must confess that I am still not ready for it. But I am, at least, a little closer to being ready. Hopefully one day I will be ready and then I will read it and smile a wise smile of understanding. I suspect there will also be peace and contentment in my smile and that I will know who I am and why I am here. But for now, I can only appreciate the wisdom that I half-understand.

Perhaps you, dear reader, think I really do understand. That is what I thought when I read it the first time, for I understood the words that were printed on the page. But that is only further proof that I was not ready for it. Now, with the knowledge that I am still not ready, I am closer than I was when I thought I understood.

I feel a kinship with H.H. His weaknesses are my weaknesses. His desires my desires ~ especially his desire to record his journey. And his despair is my despair. Unlike Demian and Siddhartha, this is not a young person’s book. The Journey to the East is about the failure of H.H. ~ not only the failure he recognizes, but also the failure he does not recognize. And it is the failure he does not recognize which is the serious one.

Rereading this book now, at the same age Hesse was when he published it, I must acknowledge my own desertion of the journey, my own forgetfulness and unfaithfulness to the league. I even sold my violin ~ figuratively speaking. And now I long to return. Perhaps my poetic creations, humble though they may be, will one day be more real than I am. Perhaps they already are, and when the last drop of that which is me flows into them, I will be able to lie down and sleep.

[Fergus, Weaver of Autistic Webs · Rating 3 out of 5]

Here is another book I read in the early seventies when, as is usual for a child of this misinformationist postwar age, I was actively engaged in searching for a solid reality among the era’s castoff debris.

Not a bad book, but a sorta garden path book, by the blind leading the blind.

Following Hesse particularly, somewhat as a dazed and semi-delusional lapdog weaves a desultorily crooked line to keep pace with its master, I seem to have insisted on such frivolously arcane fiction as my only possible panacea for brute reality.

But all it did was cast me further adrift...

Here a little dog I pause
Heaving up my prior paws -
Pause - and sleep endlessly...

Little cats and dogs all must
Like chimney sweepers,
Come to dust.

Well, this fictional seque from my Quest - into a sybaritic admixture of the factual and fanciful - forced me to see the futility of any further tagging along behind a punchdrunk writer.

My own life has perforce stuck to immediate, bargain basement reality, frugal both in tastes and temperament. My meds have shrunk my ego. After a life - as Mallarme says, "virgin of expectation," I honestly don't mind coming to dust: but Hesse?

Hesse was fast becoming a fallen star in my fanciful firmament, and my initial delight was now turning to dust, just like T.S. Eliot’s lamented lapdog.

Let’s face it: Kurt Vonnegut was right in calling poor Hermann a second-string author! All invention - no substance.

All of which perfectly summed up the resultantly addled mind of Yours Truly in those septic seventies.

There’s no rest for the wicked: it took me fifty years to see that.

I would bore you to no end if I told you I was to drunkenly circumambulate Mount Purgatory in that same wobbling way until the now-recent day when I finally woke up, and climbed it.

You see, it dawned on me that this Mountain was REALLY Frodo’s Mount Doom...

And the only way we can live an awake life:

Is to CLIMB up & TRASH our Ring of Ego-Power in its molten lava FOREVER...

And the sooner the better -

Our FINAL unsentimental Journey in stark solitude, and for Hesse, a Road Never Travelled.

[Luís · Rating 3 out of 5]

That's an extraordinary book, disconcerting even. It is charged with spirituality at the frontiers of reality. Unfortunately, it is also somewhat of an ancient text due to its simple past, which gives it a pompous and outdated appearance.
It was not a blow to the heart, far from there, but I appreciated the poetry in this work.

[مجیدی‌ام · Rating 3 out of 5]

بعنوان کتاب چهارم که از هرمان هسه می‌خوندم، همونطور که انتظار می‌رفت، متاسفانه به دلم ننشست!

کتاب، داستانِ خوب و سرراستی داره، ولی نثر کتاب و ترجمه‌اش انقدر پیچیده و سخت‌خوان و به قول یکی از دوستان فاخر هست که خواننده رو از خط داستانی گمراه می‌کنه و بعضا دل آدم رو می‌زنه.
البته من این کتاب رو بهتر از سیدارتها دونستم، و بیشتر تونستم باهاش ارتباط برقرار کنم و موقع خوندن روش تمرکز بیشتری داشتم!
اما از نظر پیچیدگی و لایه‌های داستانی، سیدارتها کتاب عمیق‌تری بود. این کتاب ولی، خیلی عمق نداشت و می‌شد با تمرکز نسبتا کمتری هم خوندش.

درکل، خودم رو در سطحی نمی‌دونم که بخوام نقد منفی کنم، درنهایت فقط می‌تونم بگم که من دوستش نداشتم، اما کتاب، کتاب بدی نیست.
امتیاز اصلی کتاب دو و نیم از پنج هست، ولی به دلیل داستان کوتاهی که در آخر کتاب اضافه شده بود، امتیاز رو به سه ستاره افزایش می‌دم.
*در کنار داستان اصلی، یک داستان کوتاه حدودا بیست و خرده‌ای صفحه‌ای هم در آخر کتاب قرار گرفته که هم می‌شه به داستان اصلی ربطش داد و هم نمی‌شه! کلا کارهای هرمان هسه یجوریه که نمی‌تونم با قاطعیت در موردشون بنویسم! :))
اصلا خودتون برید بخونید! تمام. :))

[Paul · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have enjoyed the novels I have read by Hesse, but this wasn't really one that resonated with me. The narrator H.H joins a quasi-religious organisation called The League which has ancient roots and members from reality and fiction: Plato, Don Quixote, Mozart, Tristram Shandy, Baudelaire, Puss in Boots (I kid you not). There is a pilgrimage to the East, which falls apart when a servant called Leo seems to disappear. Of Course, Leo is much more than a servant as the rest of the novella reveals, with reflections on the master/servant role. After some years of despair and doubt about The League H.H finds his way back (via Leo, of course) and reaches a level of enlightenment and self awareness.
For me, it's all a little self absorbed. It isn't helped by Timothy Leary's rather lengthy and overblown introduction. H.H is, for me, too one-dimensional and taken up with concepts, inner journeys and completely unrelated to other members of the human race. The philosophy of life, personally, is too unrelated to interpersonal relationships and too obsessed with the inner journey and self actualisation.
However having had to read about Servant-Leadership management theories and having on a daily basis to manage a team of people, it was interesting to look at the character of Leo and his changing (yet being the same) role.
It's very brief and probably a good starting point for religious and philosophical arguments. I enjoyed Steppenwolf much more.

[Ian "Marvin" Graye · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Poet of the Interior Journey"

There was a time in my 20’s when I was obsessed with Hermann Hesse. I was a Hesse Obsessor. After all, he was regarded highly enough as an author to win the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1946.

Something now lures me back to the novels I read then, "Siddhartha" and "Steppenwolf". However, I thought I would try this one as a "wedgie" or stopgap between more ambitious projects.

In truth, this is more a novella than a novel.

Even burdened by a 30 page introduction by Dr Timothy Leary (he coined the term "Poet of the Interior Journey" for Hesse), it’s less than 110 pages long.

So, is it any good? Yes, well, it's OK.

The Home of Light

There is a suggestion in the title of the novel that, in order to gain spiritual awareness, you must head towards the East.

However, this is not a purely geographical concept. For the West, it doesn’t necessarily mean Asia. It is a metaphor:

"We not only wandered through Space, but also through Time. We moved towards the East, but we also travelled into the Middle Ages and the Golden Age."

The East is where the Sun rises. The East is the Home of Light, the Home of Enlightenment. Even more simply, it is Home:

"Throughout the centuries it had been on the way, towards light and wonder, and each member, each group, indeed our whole host and its great pilgrimage, was only a wave in the eternal stream of human beings, of the eternal strivings of the human spirit towards the East, towards Home."

Wisdom and spirituality are not just found in the East, they are found at Home.

Lost Pilgrims

One other thing is implied: we can embark on our spiritual journey individually or we can travel as a collective.

Whichever way we choose, each of us can stray and end up a lost pilgrim.

The collective pilgrimage of Hesse's characters appears to fail and they feel disillusioned, worthless and spiritless:

"There was nothing else left for me to do but to satisfy my last desire: to let myself fall from the edge of the world into the void – to death."

For them, the confrontation with the void ushers in a suicidal impulse.

The Inevitability of Despair

All along, there is but one enemy, Despair.

The protagonist HH’s ambition to write a book about his adventures is based on his desire to escape from Despair:

"It was the only means of saving me from nothingness, chaos and suicide."

Despair is not just the experience of Depression for an Individual. It is not just something that the mentally imbalanced suffer from.

All of us have to confront Despair every step of our spiritual journey. In Hesse's eyes, it's a necessary part of the journey:

"Despair is the result of each earnest attempt to go through life with virtue, justice and understanding and to fulfill their requirements. Children live on one side of despair, the awakened on the other side."

The Freedom to be Happy

Along HH’s path, he imagines the source of his temporal Happiness:

"My happiness arose from the freedom to experience everything imaginable simultaneously to exchange outward and inward easily, to move Time and Space about like scenes in a theatre."

Note the fluidity, not just of Space, but of Time, hence the earlier allusion to the Middle Ages and the Golden Age.

You can see the appeal to Timothy Leary, who speculated [inaccurately in my opinion] that Hesse wrote the novella while on drugs.

Home is Where the Soul Is

Once again, Hesse's spiritual journey transcends geography:

"Our goal was not only the East, or rather the East was not only a country and something geographical, but it was the home and youth of the soul, it was everywhere and nowhere, it was the union of all times."

The Journey to the East is not just a journey to Asia, but an Interior Journey, a Journey that begins and ends at Home and with the Self.

This is where we will find true Happiness.

The Disappearing Self

In any spiritual journey, as with any other, we have to be cautious of spoilers.

However, within the theistic framework of the novel, each individual member of the group must merge with the God figure:

"He must grow, I must disappear."

The enemy of Spirituality is the persistence of the Self or Selfishness.

Ultimately, it seems that Hesse’s message is that we must transcend the Self, embrace a Universal Love and become one with that Love, if you like, a God.

We don't need to go elsewhere to achieve this.

The best place to seek the Self and Universal Love is at Home, the Home of the Soul.

[Glenn Sumi · Rating 2 out of 5]

This probably shouldn’t have been my introduction to Hermann Hesse’s work, but what can you do? I saw the modest little volume at the library and thought: “Gee, I should probably read Steppenwolf or Demian first, but why not whet my appetite with this? One book by the Nobel Prize winner should give me a taste of his genius, right?”

Um, not quite. It’s an opaque, confounding book about a man named H.H. (I’m assuming it’s partly autobiographical) who looks back on his time in a mysterious group called “the League.” Their purpose was to journey to the East – which I assume is both a geographical and a spiritual destination involving enlightenment.

Here’s a quote about the group’s journey:

… we not only wandered through Space, but also through Time. We moved towards the East, but we also travelled into the Middle ages and the Golden Age; we roamed through Italy or Switzerland, but at times we also spent the night in the tenth century and dwelt with the patriarchs or the fairies.

Um, okay, H.H. If you say so.

H.H. also tells us that members of this League included real people (Plato, Mozart, Paul Klee) and fictional ones (Don Quixote, Tristram Shandy, characters from Hesse’s books). Perhaps the book should have been called The Journey To Self-Aggrandizement.

Anyhow, for some reason the group splintered after a simple, humble servant named Leo abruptly disappeared. Years later, H.H. meets a person who instantly makes him recall the League, and eventually, after some weird sort of trial, he learns a valuable lesson. Which presumably he’s passing on to us in this book.

I suppose if you’re heavily into Eastern religion, this book will have meaning for you. Two of my grandparents were Buddhists, and I find it a very soothing, non-judgemental religion. Parts of this book reminded me of what Salinger’s Franny experienced as a pilgrim.

Beyond that, I can’t say. But then again, I’ve never travelled to the Middle Ages, so what do I know?

[Jonathan Ashleigh · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hermann Hesse writes as though his words are god's perspective, but I don't believe in god... And, for the most part, I think god is boring. Unlike Siddhartha, a book which everybody loves because they think they will look dumb if they don't, Journey to the East is a book that doesn't claim to have all the answers.

I feel this quote from within its text describes it best.
"The clearest relationships were distorted, the most obvious were forgotten, the trivial and unimportant pushed into the foreground. It must be written again, right from the beginning…"

The Journey to the East is eluded to many times within John Zelazny's first novel, The Sorrows of Young Mike. In Zelazny's work, the main character is also often searching for the unknowable while on a trip that will eventually lead him to the Orient.

[J.G. Keely · Rating 3 out of 5]

Why is Hesse's concept of enlightenment indistinguishable from mental illness? First, in The Glass Bead Game, we get the depiction of a 'secular saint', and the signs of his enlightenment are that he has stopped all his creative work, often sits lost in thought, making no sign he understands anyone speaking to him, and when he does respond, it is with a brief non-sequitur. He otherwise wanders the gardens day and night with a bland smile frozen to his face. Perhaps it's only me who looks at those symptoms and sees not enlightenment, but full-fledged dementia.

In this work, we get a picture of a secret organization of enlightened individuals who seem to be a collection of homeless vagrants that wander the countryside obsessed with certain mythical objects, and convinced that an ancient, powerful conspiracy is running the world. Once again, my brain keeps telling me that Hesse must be writing satire, since there is nothing that separates this vision of enlightenment from mental disorder.

The secret organization itself is the most interesting part of the narrative. It is a fantasy of magic, time travel, and Illuminist philosophy reminiscent of Italo Calvino's 'magical realism'. This odd vision of a world- and time-spanning sect of spiritual sorcerers was the most enjoyable and promising aspect of the book, so it was disappointing to me that it served only as a backdrop for a fairly bland story.

The narrative is also full of allusions to various historical and literary figures, events, mythologies, and philosophies, but I didn't feel that Hesse did enough to connect them together into something meaningful. As usual, his spiritual philosophy was only as powerful as its vagueness. I did like the notion of a narrative which created allusive meaning like a metaphysical poem--combining references with a central argument to create depth--but Hesse failed to resolve it into anything so insightful.

The weakest aspect of his presentation was the single-voiced, confessional style--something like a journal. Our narrator is constantly referencing interesting things that happened to him, but we don't actually get to experience them or understand them. Once again, vagueness is mistaken for profundity.

I would have been interested in seeing more of this journey, and the odd experiences that made it up, instead of them being merely name-dropped. I'm not saying Hesse should have made everything clear or provided some grand meaning--I think an in-depth description of these fantastical events would have helped deepen his conceptual world, and provide for the reader symbolic examples to help lead us along.

It's like those Lovecraft stories where the hero says 'the vision was too horrible to describe, its terror was beyond the meagre power of words to encapsulate it'--but then Lovecraft usually goes on to explain it, anyways--or at least he has an exciting, fast-paced story to make up for it. No such luck in Hesse.

Once again we have a central, masterful figure who knows all but reveals little--the notion of the great teacher who has the greatest of reputations, despite the fact that we never see him do anything to deserve it. Hesse helpfully tells us that people like him and feel comfortable around him, but I wish he had just made the reader feel that way about him instead of trying to convince us of the inner life of a flat character. If you cannot believably write the Master, then do not make him a character. As depicted, he could have easily been a charlatan as a guru.

Once again, I am reminded why I do not find bland spiritual wonderment enticing: the world is full of joy and wonder and mystery in infinite variations, so it always feels petty and false to me to try to encapsulate that in a vague symbolic experience, asking no questions and revealing nothing. I find it more enlightening to read an author with a hundred powerful and contradictory insights rather than a single, unified, featureless vision like this.

[Rose Rosetree · Rating 5 out of 5]

Seeking Enlightenment does not come with participation trophies. This non-negotiable fact lies behind the apparent tragedies of "The Journey to the East."

People drop out of pursuing that journey... for any number of reasons.

Even when I read this novel in 1968, this fact of spiritual life seemed reasonable to me. Now, as an Enlightenment teacher, my appreciation of this is more nuanced.

Ever since 1968, Hermann Hesse has been my favorite novelist. Among his books, my favorite hands down is "Magister Ludi," aka, "The Glass Bead Game." However, his novel called "The Journey to the East," has been my second favorite.

You other Goodreaders who have read "Magister Ludi" may recall how Hesse refers freely to the Journey to the East. Personally, I like to think of it as "East Meets West." (A topic for conversation another day, or even some conversations at my personal blog.)

Bottom Line

I want to learn more about both of these magnificent books. Today, in honor of this Journey, I'm going to set up a new Goodreads shelf for myself: Books-to-REREAD.

P.S. As a spiritual teacher, I am convinced that seeking Enlightenment does not come with participation trophies. However, it's important to note:

Since the journey of spiritual evolution continues throughout each soul's multiple incarnations, hello! Whenever we like, we can grow-grow-grow.

In the context of each soul's iterative-and-cumulative process of spiritual evolution, each one of us can win every single lifetime.

[Kuszma · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ritkán akad az ember kezébe olyan kötet, ami ennyire egyértelműen egy életmű resztlijét tartalmazza. A napkeleti utazás a közkeletű vélekedés szerint csak előtanulmány Hesse főművéhez, Az üveggyöngyjátékhoz, a Sváb életrajz pedig csak azért tekinthető önálló műnek, mert abba nem fért bele. Ezzel együtt több szempontból tanulságos, mi több, hibáikkal együtt (talán hibáik miatt) vonzó írások ezek.

A napkeleti utazás tulajdonképpen egy dokumentált kudarc története – a kudarc oka, hogy bizonyos élmények egyszerűen megírhatatlanok, ezáltal átadhatatlanok. No most minek ír meg valaki valamit, ami megírhatatlan, puffog az olvasó, és le is von egy csillagot. Másfelől ad is egy csillagot, a vállalkozás puszta bátorságáért. Eddig döntetlen hát. Nem mondom, zavaros történet a térben és időben vándorló misztikus közösség, a Szövetség főszereplésével, de ad neki némi naiv bájt, hogy Hesse minden erejével megpróbálja beleírni magát, barátait és példaképeit a szövegbe. Engem személy szerint lenyűgöz maga az elgondolás is. Jusson eszünkbe, ez a két világháború közti időszak, a húszas évek. Remarque vagy Jünger (vagy az országhatárokon túl Barbusse és Aldington) azzal van elfoglalva, hogy az első világháború traumáját a lövészárokharc leírásával, a pokol terápiás kibeszélésével oldja fel. Hesse írását is ugyanaz a csalódottság jellemzi, szerintem: hogy az emberi ész, az ipar és a civilizáció ekkora emberirtásban csúcsosodott ki. Ő azonban más utat választ, egyfajta spirituális utazást tesz, barátságos álomvilágba menekül, amit az európai művészetek és mítoszok, valamint a keleti vallások különös katyvasza strukturál. Igaz ugyan, hogy ez az álomvilág nem tud elkülönülni a valóságtól, és ez a disszonancia végig beárnyékolja, de azért összességében ártatlan játék ez. Ami nem kis dolog, ha figyelembe vesszük, hogy a nácik ugyanebben az időszakban milyen kártékony fogalmakat találtak átvételre érdemesnek saját spirituális „napkeleti utazásuk” során.

(A Sváb életrajz tulajdonképpen ugyanez a menekülés, csak jóval szublimáltabb formában. Itt nem direkten kapjuk arcunkba a misztikus tér- és időugrásokat, hanem egy jóval áttételesebb szimbólumrendszeren keresztül, aminek középpontjában az alkotás vágya áll.)

[Gypsy · Rating 3 out of 5]

اون قد نثرش فاخر بود که آدمو دنبال خودش می کشوند و البته حواسشو از داستان پرت میکرد. داستان سهل و راحتی نیس؛ خصوصاً که گریزها و تلمیح ها و اشارات زیادی داره که آدمو گیج می کنه. ولی رو هم رفته حال و هواش خوبه.

[Olga · Rating 5 out of 5]

A mystical journey into the unknown world of oneself.

[Amir · Rating 5 out of 5]

نومیدی نتیجه هر تلاش جدی در ادراک و توجیه حیات انسانی است.
از متن کتاب

تا به حال نشده است کتابی از هرمان هسه در دست بگیرم و با تک تک کلماتش احساس آشنایی نکنم. هر بار که تصمیم به خواندن هر کتابی از او می کنم تقریبا مطمئنم به مهمانی خانه ای میرم که صاحبش را می شناسم. عطر چایی که دم‌ کرده در هوا می‌پیچد و می دانم که رسیدنم را منتظر است. و می دانم که عمیق ترین درد هایم را می داند، بی انکه حرفی بزنم‌ و به جای من سخن خواهد گفت آن زمان که من از سخن‌گفتن ناتوانم.

او نائب انسان های گمگشته است. نائب انسان هایی که غریب اند در آن جایگاهی که ایستاده اند. می توانم ادعا کنم که او بهتر از همه درد و تلخی هبوط را می شناسد. درد انسانی که پیش از این حقیقت به او خورانده می شد و حال باید خود کاشف حقیقتش باشد. او ناله های انسانی که بسیاری خدایش را فریاد کرده اما صدایی نشنیده، می شناسد. او می داند گاهی بی ایمان زیستن چه اندازه می تواند دشوار باشد ان هم برای کسی که در دلش خانه ای زیبا برای ایمانش ساخته.‌ خانه ای که روزگاری رونق بسیاری داشت هر چند امروز متروک و بلااستفاده باقی مانده. می داند وجود داشتن چه دلهره ای به جان ادمی می اندازد برای ادمی که پاسخی برای این سوال دردناک ندارد: چرا هست به جای آنکه نباشد؟

[Sara Bakhshiani · Rating 4 out of 5]

حقیقتش اینه که درباره اینجور کتابا
با اینجور مبحث های قابل بحث درشون نمیدونم باید چجوری و چطور بنویسم
ولی همیشه دوست دارم بعد از تموم کردن یه چیزی نوشته باشم
شاید که بعدا بدردم خورد.
_________________________
احتمالا دمیان خیلی پر محتوا تر از سلوک به سوی صبح بود
بااینکه بخش دوم دمیان یکم سریع جمع جور شد
ولی به نظر من بازم بهتر بود
این کتابش که دومین کتابیه که از هسه میخونم
بیشتر حس و حال خوبی داشت بخاطر توصیف هایی که توی داستان شده بود
مخصوصا بخش آخر داستان.
__________________________
احتمالا هسه هم سبک فکر کردنش میتونه مورد علاقم باشه
چون اصولا از این دسته آدم هایی که فکر و عقیده عجیب و غریب دارن
و بین آدم های هم عصر خودشون میدرخشند خیلی چیزا برای گفتن دارن.

[John · Rating 4 out of 5]

Journey to the East is written from the point of view of a man called H. H. He joins an organization called “The League", a religious sect made up of whose famous fictional and real characters. The journey starts out well with the group of members enthusiastic and happy. However, a crisis occurs at a mountain gorge called Morbio Inferiore. Leo apparently just a servant disappears. This results in the group falling into crisis and ultimately breaking apart causing the group to lose their belief in the league.

H.H wanders around for years in depression and a sense of failure until he meets Leo again. Then H.H must face a trial and test of his faith. The story is a Christian allegory where H.H faith is tested. It’s a story about failure, depression, hope and ultimately in what you believe and how you want to live.

[Zohreh Hanifeh · Rating 4 out of 5]

برای من کتابِ فوق‌العاده‌ای بود. با این‌که در ابتدا روایت داستانیِ قوی‌ای هم نداشت، و روایت‌های پراکنده‌ای از خاطرات سفری به سوی صبح بود، اما از نیمه‌های کتاب که با حقایق روبرو می‌شد و از گم‌گشتگی خودش آگاه، با دل آدم حرف می‌زد. برای کسی که راه سلوک را رفته باشد یا بخواهد برود، کلمات آشناست. راهروان، پیشروان، خطاها، حسرت‌ها...
بخش آخر (خواب جزیره) هم با اینکه تمثیلی بود اشک‌هایم را جاری کرد. آن‌جا که شاهبانو به ه‍. میگفت «من روح درماندهٔ تو را خوب می‌شناسم. در راه زندگی بر فراز سرت بوده‌ام...»
و آن‌جا که می‌پرسید «بگو، آیا شیرین‌کام‌تر از دیگران نبودی؟» «ولی آیا نیکبختی‌ات را قدر شناختی؟»

پ.ن: ترجمهٔ سروش حبیبی بسیار زیبا بود.
پ.ن.۲: کتاب در چاپ‌های بعدی با نام سلوک به سوی صبح منتشر شده.

[Nikos Tsentemeidis · Rating 5 out of 5]

Κάθε φορά που διαβάζω Hesse, διαπιστώνω πόσο μεγάλος συγγραφέας είναι.

[محمدحسین بنـکدارتهرانی · Rating 5 out of 5]

کار خیلی خوبی هست به ویژه برای کسانی که زمانی دلبسته‌ی علوم سنتی بوده‌اند و رازآموزی را از جان دوست می‌دارند.
ترجمه ی آقای حبیبی هم خوب و خواندنی است.

[Daniel T · Rating 1 out of 5]

داستان اصلا جذاب نبود
توی کل کتاب هم فقط یک بخش و دیالوگ بود که دوست داشتم

ولی قلم زیبایی داشت
و جز قلم چیزی نداشت
پیشنهاد میدم اگر خواستید کتابی از هسه بخونید با (دمیان) شروع کنید

[Josh Caporale · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Hermann Hesse novels that I have read thus far examined his philosophical, eastern inspired train of thought that took place upon his ability to seek enlightenment like that chronicled in Demian. Aside from Journey to the East and Demian, I have read Siddhartha and Narcissus and Goldmund. Demian remains my absolute favorite, but Journey to the East presented a great, cool breath of fresh air as well when it came to developing a greater understanding of one's quest for what they want in life and the group of people with similar interests or motives they are willing to come together with in order to follow that pursuit in what is often recognized as religion. To me, my feelings for The Journey to the East were similar to that of Siddhartha, only The Journey to the East concentrated much more on delivering a message that was meant to directly hit the reader.

H.H. is the central character in this piece, which we greatly assume is based on the fact that these are Hesse's very own initials. Hesse has placed himself in the central character's shoes before, notably in Demian as he took on the role of the author, Emil Sinclair. In this piece, though, H.H. joins the League in his pursuit for the beautiful Princess Fatima. I would argue that while religious pursuit and seeking either a higher being or enlightenment were the greater goals in this group, one is likely to join a group when looking for love. H.H. engages in several expeditions as the group makes their way to the east as if it is "home." Along the way, though, plenty of members give up on their pursuit, reflecting on the possibility that one may lose hope in a cause of this nature. Along the way, H.H. meets a servant named Leo, who possesses much more than what meets the eye.

I always feel that I get something out of reading Hermann Hesse's books and this one is no different. I felt I got greater messages about our roles as people in society and how the world goes beyond who we are and what we want and how eventually we are tapped to play a pivotal role in the needs and desires of others, many of which are bigger and better than we will ever be. Some of this contributes to the greater good, while others just contribute, which is a key explanation in how our world works. This book was only 118 pages in league and brief enough in its subject matter, but like with most of Hesse's works, the philosophy and messages outweigh the storyline and plot. If done well, this is perfectly excusable.

After reading this, I would definitely be keen to pick up more of what Hesse has to offer.

[L.S. Popovich · Rating 3 out of 5]

The astounding vagueness of this short novel probably conceals a spiritual allegory under the guise of a universal message, though it is still too cryptic. It takes on new meaning when you realize Hesse was engaged in antiwar activities and was driven out of Germany during WWI. He became a naturalized citizen of Switzerland and eventually won the Nobel Prize. Perhaps some of his writings might have benefitted from a freer hand.

Combining many disparate literary and historical references, dashes of wisdom, and a blurring of the line between history and fable, this is a chronicle of inspiration, like many of Hesse's other books. He's enchanted by the East, and nostalgic for the Golden Age, but the geography of the region of his obsession is largely a mystery. Here is the trademark mysticism and the prospect of a loss of faith and the awakening of a spirit:

"Despair is the result of each earnest attempt to go through a life with virtue, justice and understanding... Children live on one side of despair, and the awakened on the other."

His lack of definitive time and place, and the lack of defining characteristics of the "League" that provides the impetus for this journey limit the reader's experience of the ideas Hesse wishes to explore. This is easily overshadowed by his more complex books.

[Lynne King · Rating 4 out of 5]

How does one begin a review of Hermann Hesse’s work? My first experience of his books was with “The Glass Bead Game”, the content of which fascinated me at the time and I found it easy to read. However, this book has really got me thinking and much as I like it, I wonder if the author is playing with the reader?

This is a spiritual journey of a German choirmaster called H.H. (could this be the author himself?) who unsuccessfully attempts to write about the “great journey” he made when he joined the “League, a religious organization. However, he’s handicapped because of his former vow to the League to never disclose anything about it at all.

After a year’s probation he was asked what he hoped to gain from this journey towards the East into a legendary realm. His heart’s desire was to see the Princess Fatima. No problem and so he officially became a member of the League and was given a ring confirming his loyalty.

I found the plot to be somewhat convoluted as H.H. sets off with a group heading towards “the East”. There are many groups and some get lost, never to surface again. There are incidents where those lost members have been trying to get back into the League but are unsuccessful. They can all travel through time as well as space, backwards and forwards and encounter real and imaginary individuals on the way, such as: Almansor and Parsifal, Witiko or Goldmund, Sancho Oanza, Don Quixote, Hoffman and the ferryman Vasudeva. Nevertheless, the writing style and descriptions are excellent.

The catalyst to me in the book appears to be Leo, the servant to the group and yet “Leo knew all kinds of things; that he perhaps knew more than us, who were ostensibly his masters.”

The group then falls into disarray when, upon arrival at the Morbio Inferiore Gorge on the Italian border, Leo disappears.

Time relentlessly passes and H.H. decides that he must write about his own particular journey but he’s finding it more and more difficult to remember events. In particular he wondered about Leo. Through a friend he finds out, “We already have a Leo. Andreas Leo, 69a, Seilergraben.”

The upshot is that this is the “proper” Leo but he apparently doesn’t remember H.H. who becomes so frustrated by this that he writes Leo a long letter. The consequence of this is that he’s taken to the League and finds out that Leo is in fact the president.

This is also a book about lost opportunities as H.H. soon finds and as for the denouement, well, that was rather unexpected.

[Cem · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ezoterizmle ilgili olmama, ezoterik örgütler hakkında da biraz bilgi sahibi olmama rağmen, bu kitapta HH şunu anlatmaya çalışmış, bunu ortaya koymak istemiş, diyemiyorum maalesef... Kolay okunabilmesine, içinde çok sayıda damardan fikir cümleleri barındırmasına karşın, söylemek istediklerini doğru anlayabilmek, anlandığı zannedilse bile, içselleştirmek oldukça zor... İsteyen kaşıkla, isteyen kepçeyle, alabilen de kazanla alsın nafakasını, diye düşünmüş olmalı...

[Julian Worker · Rating 5 out of 5]

A man becomes a member of "The League", a religious sect whose members include famous fictional and real characters, including characters from Hesse's previous novels.

The group goes on a journey in search of the truth, travelling through space and time to real and imaginary places. Things go well until a servant called Leo disappears...

Years later the man meets Leo and discovers a truth, but perhaps not the one he was hoping for at the beginning of his journey.

[Sanjay · Rating 4 out of 5]

It started slow and was more dream like confusing but then it suddenly grew interesting and culminating in a great climax.

[Benjamin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Such a strange journey, such an elusive destination. This is equally horrible and mystical, and it is a somewhat difficult task to try and make sense of the ending. I found myself drawn to Leo immediately, while H.H. I could more easily identify with. This made it both confusing and slightly depressing.

It seems that life is much more magical and mystical in youth, and while I am still very young myself, I find that any excitement towards spirituality I once had, has been slowly replaced over the years with a jaded cynicism. At times I attribute this to growing up, and accepting only what is logical. But often I have strange epiphanies that paint truth as paradoxical. In these moments I think that not much can ever be truthfully revealed about the mysteries in life, although many people claim to have answers for these mysteries. And maybe the most frightening thing I think of in these moments, is that we might be grasping eternally at straws. Or looking for answers to questions that need none.

Maybe the world is dictated by cold logic
Maybe it is governed by heartless chaos.
Maybe ordo ab chao
Maybe none of these things.
I'm in no position to say.

Anyways I guess this isn't much of a review. This book just happened to get me thinking.
I hope it does the same for you.

[سیاوش فتحعلی · Rating 4 out of 5]

کتاب خوبی بود.
اما از آن دست کتابهایی بود که باید ۱٠٠% حواس خواننده جمع میبود.