As you know, there is a difference between a codex (a papery thing with pages in), and a book (a longish assemblage of words, maps, diagrams, illustrations, formulae, or some combination thereof, that, these days, doesn't even need to take physical form). It's not, except to collectors, archivists and other people of that stamp, generally that important a distinction. It becomes important if some well-meaning individual binds several books together, and since whoever designed Goodreads didn't consider the possibility that might happen, I've bit of a dilemma.
You see, this volume contains a good (probably) cross-section of Goethe's literary output. There are two novels, a play, a travel diary, a novella, some letters, and a great tranche of poetry that I freely confess I've only skimmed.
Judge me. Go on. I know I have no ear for poetry; I know poetry in translation never quite survives the process; and I know - oh how I know - that my three words of German are not going to allow me to read the original, even if I thought I'd appreciate it, which I don't. Great poetry-appreciating minds have enjoyed it, great composers have set it to music, I defer to their judgement.
Moreover, the works in this volume are really quite varied, and I don't want to just slap a generic star-rating on them without trying to break it down a bit. So I'm going to try to do just that. I also have an urge to rant about Werther, so sorry about that.
THE SORROWS OF YOUNG WERTHER
In my universe this is a solid one star. In fact it may be pushing into negative territory with things like the execrable Couple Next Door (my current most loathed book). That's down to Werther himself, who is a character I can't even bring myself to hate let alone care about, and that in turn is down to my tastes, and my character, and is therefore firmly My Fault.
See? I admit it. My fault. Can't be Goethe's, he was a genius.
A sensible human being would, faced with an epistolary novel with a lead character (and therefore first-person narrator) he finds both a hopeless bore and an irritating whiner would gently turn to the next book. I'm not a sensible human being, I'm an incurable and bloody-minded optimist, so I read the whole damned thing. I believe that even a bad book can redeem itself in articulo mortis (if that's the phrase I want), and Goethe was, after all, a Great German Genius.
No, really, in spite of Werther, which is an early work, I do still believe that.
I also believe, quite firmly, that if it weren't for The Sorrows of Young Werther, many of the novels that I do like, and that I rate really quite highly, would not have been written. That would be a great loss for humanity, or at least this particular subset of it.
So, if we lay my aversion to Our Hero very briefly to one side, is it any good?
Well... Maybe. A bit. It's the sort of setup Dostoyevsky loved to get his inky paws on, a tale of obsessive, impossible, unrequited love by a personality incapable of change. The trouble is that unchangeable personality is Werther.
Werther moons about being all Artistic and Romantic, then moons about being all moody and loved-up, then moons about being a pain in the backside to everyone around him, and then shoots himself. The alternative of finding a job, a life, and a girlfriend who isn't married to one of his friends seems not to occur to him, which is possibly how love works. He's one of those people you just want to slap.
Actually, it's exactly how teenage love does work, thinking about it. Generally without the suicide, which is why we're all still here.
Werther is an intelligent, arty-pretentious, moronic, hormonal adolescent.
Maybe I'm too old to appreciate him.
ELECTIVE AFFINITIES
Has to be at least a three, doesn't it? A high three. I mean, I'd give it at least two stars for not being Werther.
That was unfair. I withdraw that last comment.
This is another story about love, eventually tragic. It's also a story about what happens if you introduce new personalities into an established relationship. I wasn't so keen on the ending, but I suppose it had to finish somehow.
ITALIAN JOURNEY
Four stars for this one; it was an unexpected pleasure. The Italian Journey is Goethe's travel journal, and given that Goethe was interested in absolutely everything, and was the kind of person who sticks his head in an erupting volcano to see what it's like, is well worth reading.
NOVELLA
Maybe a lowish three??? This is the kind of writing that wavers perilously close to prose-poetry. I don't, as I said, really do poetry.
FAUST
Another four, I think.
You probably know a little about Faust anyway - the story's been plundered by enough writers and composers over the years, and the legend wasn't exactly new when Goethe got his hands on it.
Faust is a play - an enormously long mess of a play - in two parts, and it's something that illustrates very clearly Goethe's habit of drafting and redrafting, tinkering and polishing, editing, pruning and generally mucking about with his work over long periods. If you like good, strong, tightly plotted works of fiction then you will absolutely loathe it.
The background is simple enough...
The background is enormously complicated. There are two introductions. In the first, three characters... is it three? Excuse me, I just need to check...
[riffling of pages]
Director, poet and clown... yes, three.
... three characters discuss what is needed in a play. They each have different ideas, and since these are, I swear, aspects of Goethe's personality, the play tries to deliver on all three.
In the second introduction, Mephistopheles (that's the Devil) enters into a wager with The Lord (that's God) over Faust's soul, then...
No, don't worry, I'm not going to reel off the whole plot, I'm just wanted to mention a few points.
Part one is more or less coherent, and revolves around Faust regaining his youth, then seducing a pretty young woman. It seems he can't do this without help from the devil, but who am I to judge? The affair does not end well.
Part two...
Hmm... Well, the Emperor is involved somewhere, and inflationary paper money, and Helen of Troy, and a land-reclamation scheme, and really you probably just want to read it for yourself, though if you drop it and the pages get out of order, you might not even notice.
See?
Oh, and the wager? Evil wins, but good cheats, so Faust goes to heaven anyway.
Cue Mahler's Eighth Symphony.
There are funny bits. There are tragic bits. There are a couple of pageants with allegorical figures. There's a fair chunk of mythology you won't understand without a classical education or a lot of background reading. There isn't actually a bad piece of writing in it, there's just so much jumbled together it becomes a bit of a blur.
I'm going to shut up now.
SELECTED POEMS
I'm going to ignore these, though for reference that bit in The Man in the High Castle where Wegener's singing in the shower? It's Schubert's setting of the Erl King. Wegener seems to have a taste for Schubert.
SELECTED LETTERS
I'm afraid I'm not the kind of person who goes burrowing through letters, and I'm certainly not going to rate them. They add a bit of context to the other works, and there's a stray comment about Beethoven, but otherwise there's not much to say.
There. Now I can mark this as read and move on.