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800 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2012
All three were on the run from their former lives. They had how no idea how the future would turn out. They were banking on the mercy of a spirit of salvation, on true friendship.
So what was the common bond between Hugo Ball and Emmy Hennings in 1920? The blows that fate had dealt them over the war years just past had knocked all the exuberance out of both of them, and life weighed heavily on them. Their conversion was not meant rhetorically, but was vital to their survival. Praying together was the only point of fixity they could still identify in an age driven by a frenzy of destruction.
They were also bonded with Hesse by common spiritual themes: the demonic and exorcism; libidinous urges and asceticism; the sacred and the increasing banality of mass culture; the task of the intellectual between social criticism and the timeless evocation of meaningfulness; the monastic life, religion, and atheism; the question of the cultic in religion, action, and contemplation, the idea of the artist as narcissist; Protestantism and Catholicism: the role played by sacrifice for faith; guilt and atonement; the creation of heretics by institutions; the neuroses of modern humans; pantheism and mysticism . . .
Rilke called the aim of art that proceeds from piety understood in such a way "the new life, the vita nuova." And it was this profoundly secret wish to have the capacity to change one's own life through the act of writing that Rilke identified in Hesse as well. He expressed this idea in an image that was very pathos-laden but highly apposite in all its resonant ambiguity: "His words kneel." Similarly he also maintained: "It is as if his words were made of metal and read very slowly and heavily." Yet Rilke also remarked on the shortcomings of Hesse's prose. A great deal of abstraction had found its way into the book, he claimed, and these elegant formulations had not blended well with the rest of the material. Here Rilke was ad dressing the fact that Hesse's style in An Hour Behind Midnight comes across as extremely aloof-sometimes bordering on the kind of "arts and craft” esthetic he despised. Rilke identified in this "a certain Sunday-best language. . . yet the author seems to have actually felt too few Sundays; many words appear just too new and unused for that." Nevertheless, the work was very unliterary, by which Rilke meant: "In its best passages it is vital and idiosyncratic. His reverence is sincere and profound. His love is great and all emotions in the book are pious: it is on the verge of art."60 This was a truly prophetic designation of the position from which Hesse wrote and which he would henceforth defend throughout his whole life . . .