I’m reading Hermann Hesse’s Steppenwolf, possible even rereading it.  I owned a copy in my twenties and thought I’d read it but it now seems obvious to me that I didn’t. 

There are several translations available but the one I’m reading seems inadequate to me.  I have a graduate degree in translation studies and linguistics (although it is not my primary profession) so perhaps I tend to be more critical than might be fair.  Still, the disappointment at what seemed a poor translation of a seminal novel faded as I “plowed” through it until, suddenly, it seemed much less inadequate.  The “plowing” ceased and sowing started, especially after I was introduced to “Hermine”. 

Originally, the title of this article, a sort of literary review, was to be “Reflections on Hermine”, perhaps it still should be, but as readers will note towards the end, the more traditionally serious civic and literary aspects of this piece devolve into what some will consider sophomoric parody, hence the modification to the title.  Hermine does not deserve to be tainted by parody, nor is it the intent of the latter part of this article to engage in parody, but one cannot control the reflections of readers or critics, especially those lacking in both a sense of humor and joy in the sensual; something now all too common as somehow, the liberal perspectives of the 1960s have morphed into censorious Puritanism.

“The” Steppenwolf’s transcendent fame is centered on its psychological reflections and on its refractive introspection with reference to human nature, but for me, at least so far, I’ve derived more from its perhaps unintended sociological and historical revelations as well as from the irreverent digression referenced above.  On the more serious historical side, shortly after Hermine was introduced I was struck by the protagonist’s bitterness towards German jingoists who virulently attacked him and other pacifists, much as happens today in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and of course, Israel.  What most struck me with reference to the foregoing is that the novel was published in 1927, long before Hitler’s ascent, and thus belied much of the fault assigned to him for subsequent events.  The blame, of course, rightfully belongs to the Treaty of Versailles and the viciousness of the victorious Entente, as hypocritical a group as ever blemished the face of our planet.  It was their greed and hypocrisy that generated bitterness and desire for revenge among the populace of the German nation, a supranational society that included not only the Weimer Republic but Austria as well, and parts of Poland and Czechoslovakia.  A subsurface fury very similar to that generated among Muslims and especially Palestinians today by the disdain with which they are treated by those same countries. 

Those brief passages generated cascading reflections on my part as they so accurately presaged the future and now, today’s present.  And not only with respect to the rise of the Nazis and their defeat in the oxymoronic “second war to end all wars”.  It also struck me that it was members of this same “alliance” now calcified in NATO, namely the United States, the United Kingdom and France, which orchestrated the now obviously hypocritical Nuremberg and Tokyo post war tribunals, proceedings disguised as efforts to impose ex post facto rules of war and legal norms applicable with respect to treatment of subjugated minorities.  Rules totally ignored with respect to the victors, not only during those proceedings but ever since.  Witness the United States’ facilitation of the slaughter of tens of thousands of Palestinian civilians by Israel for the past three quarters of a century, and especially since October 7, 2023.  But then, as Hesse notes, hypocrisy has almost always, perhaps always been the only norm governing interstate, international and intercultural conflicts.  It seems ingrained in our nature as the Steppenwolf aspect of Hesse’s protagonist so emotively observed.  As I focused on those brief passages, I couldn’t help but recall how the victors in the second war to end all wars, as they were in the first war to end all wars, were as guilty as the vanquished in too many instances, and that the same lot of hypocritical victors, led for centuries by the United Kingdom, have kept the world in constant conflict as they successfully exploited and looted the Global South.  Slavery has not really been eliminated, it’s just been camouflaged and swept under rugs.

Having taught history for a decade in my relative youth and, during the past several decades, having been actively involved in political analysis, both academically as chair of university political science, government and international relations programs, and as a participant in numerous media events, television and radio programs, etc., I was inexcusably caught off guard by the epochal reality brought to light for me by Hermann Hesse, i.e., the early appearance of underlying trends which would all too soon blossom into militarist fascism preceding the rise of the Nazi’s, although, on reflection, it is obvious that the Nazis did not sprout fully formed from ether.  And although I should not have been surprised, I was again caught off guard by the reality that “all too frequently one learns a great deal more from analyzing an epoch’s or a culture’s fiction than one does from assiduously studying learned historical treatises”, respected albeit inaccurate sources which all too frequently only blend strains of propaganda seasoned with rationalization in order to obfuscate what really happened and why.  It is fascinating to realize that either Herman Hesse was prescient or, more likely, that the history we are taught is so bogus that “the more we claim things change, the more they actually stay the same”.

I have another author to thank for my renewed interest in Hermann Hesse, one who reminds me of a now deceased friend, the brilliant translator and poet, Sam Hamill, who founded “Poets against War” as the disastrous second United States incursion into Iraq loomed.  His name is Germán Eugenio Restrepo and I met him at the introduction of his latest “sort-of-novel in a fascinating blend of art gallery, cultural center, restaurant and bar in the City of Manizales, a special and somewhat esoteric place with the very appropriate name, given the context of this article, of “El Bestiario” (the Bestiary in Spanish).  Germán mentioned Herman Hesse in passing in his novel, and then, responding to my detailed observations, reflections and analysis, admitted that, like so many others, he’d found Steppenwolf particularly meaningful in his youth, perhaps even foundational.  That led me to almost immediately purchase a copy of Steppenwolf, along with copies of other Herman Hesse’s novels I’d either never read or had lost (I’ve always kept a copy of Siddhartha nearby but I now also own Narcissus and Goldmund, Beneath the Wheel and The Glass Bead Game, all of which I’ve yet to start). 

Germán’s novel is entitled, in Spanish, Diatriba de un Ángel Caído (Diatribe of a Fallen Angel).  He’s a complex, erudite and talented fellow who, as in the case of Chilean Nobel laureate, Pablo Neruda, can “confess that he has lived.  His “novel” is full of insights and allusions to other works, of references to numerous philosophers and to enlightening esoterica.  Indeed, such allusions seemed as though they, rather than any of the characters in his book, were the protagonists, but its most endearing quality was the personal introspection it stimulated and the lost memories and feelings it evoked.  Germán’s novel also provided emotionally enlightening insights into the Republic of Colombia where I was born, and where, after half a century abroad, I again live, and of its disastrous history of bellicosity and inequity.  Unfortunately, his novel will probably be difficult to obtain, although with todays’ virtual world, perhaps electronic copies will be available.  It hope so.  It is one thing to read history and quite another to feel as though one were actually a participant in the distressing historical realities narrated, something both Hesse and Germán were able to elicit.

I’m a bit over two thirds of the way through The Steppenwolf and “Hermine”, the female protagonist, is evolving from the initial impression Hesse generated, although “her evolution” is not quite contextually accurate, she is who she always was and it is only my impression of who she is that is evolving.  I was initially struck by her ability to immediately attain total control over the chief protagonist, Harry Haller, something I’d once experienced (as the object) with a woman who kept me enthralled for about a decade in what now seems another life, but Hermine is quickly becoming more multidimensional and I find myself in that delightful point where, immersed in literature, I seem personally involved; recognizing the situation in which the protagonists find themselves but, as in the case of John Rawls’ “veil of ignorance”, unsure just how that resonance will play out.  I can’t help but contrast Steppenwolf with Hesse’s Siddhartha, an allegorical novel which I have loved for decades, and the comparison is still very much in the latter’s favor, but I’m intrigued by how that perception may evolve given the fame of the former.  The Steppenwolf seemed a bit convoluted at the start but has become a bit more human in the middle.  I guess the transcendent elements are yet to come, at least for me.

“The” Steppenwolf, which I enjoy using as the title instead of merely Steppenwolf, is, in my opinion, the more appropriately translated title, although “the Steppenwolves” might have been more contextually accurate, as the novel deals with a bipolar hypothesis tested by multipolarity, one with which I’ve played in some of my own writings, especially in relationship to analyzing reincarnation, where I posit that if it exists, then our physical bodies are likely simultaneous experiential vehicles for myriads of entities requiring specific experiences, sort of like the “Legion” with whom Yeshua the Nazarene once interacted, but in a much more benign sense.  I’m intrigued by the spiritual concept of panentheism and in that sense, reincarnation would be the panentheistic means through which the divine, learns, evolves and approaches perfection (which it can never attain).  A context in which we are merely Divinity’s cells and organs.  In that sense, I’ve irreverently toyed with the idea that the more we pray, the more the Divine suffers from migraines.

In my own writings I frequently explore alternative perspectives from a contrarian viewpoint, exploring how, for example, Lucifer, Caine, Benedict Arnold and others almost universally adjudged arch villains perceive of themselves in relation to their antagonists.  And that proclivity is not limited to fiction.  I tend to champion causes disdained by many of my peers, even so far as to defend people whose values I find distasteful, Donald Trump being an example.

Sort of in that vein but taking another turn towards the irreverent (but perhaps not irrelevant), I will here dare to read between the lines writ by Hesse, delving into an essential aspect of the human psyche, one dealt with but perhaps not adequately articulated in The Steppenwolf (although, as I am only about two thirds of the way through the novel, I may be quite wrong).  It deals with the allegorical reality that not all literary wolves are wild animals.  Indeed, metaphorically, men who are enthralled by the predatory physical expression of lust (albeit usually denominated as love), are also referred to as “wolves” and thus, perhaps a person who perceives of himself as in a state of bipolarity between such a wolf and a more decent, more respectable or at least more superficially acceptable personality might, after having read Hermann Hesse’s Steppenwolf, consider himself a “schtuppenwolf”.  Personally, I find that term somewhat horrifyingly corny and way too much of a pun, but it just won’t go away as I share these impressions.  So, how might I share with the reader just what that impression entails?  Perhaps the concept can best be illustrated through an example in recent “media culture” (I can’t help but reflect that the phrase “media culture” seems somewhat oxymoronic).  The example that comes to mind involves the qualities, traits and practices fictionally memorialized in a comedic television series no longer generally available (having been judged as politically incorrect); i.e., the character of Charley Harper, played by Charlie Sheen (Carlos Estevez) in “Two-and-a-Half-Men”.  I wonder if Mr. Estevez ever read Steppenwolf, or any of the novels written by Hermann Hesse.  Others more critical of Mr. Estevez may unfairly wonder if he ever read anything at all.  Much earlier during the dawn of the television era, my example would have been the protagonist in a series about a photographer, The Bob Cummings Show.

Admittedly this turn in these observations seems a bit frivolous.  But it’s also relevant in the context of the complexity evoked by Hermann Hesse’s literary creation.  At least as far as I can glean (so far), Harry, the male protagonist in Steppenwolf, unexpectedly has room in his confusion for levity as well gloom, something Hermine clearly understands.  So, it seems fair to wonder, at least I do, what Hermann Hesse would have thought of the concept of a schtuppenwolf. 

At first blush, one might suspect that he would have found it disagreeable, but then, given his defense of multipolarity instead of bipolarity, there would certainly be room in the complex human psyche he portrayed for one or more schtuppenwolves, as well as for all sorts of alternative psychosocial personalities.  Indeed, to an extent, finding and extracting the schtuppenwolf seems to be what Hermann Hesse’s heroine, “Hermine”, sought to accomplish with Harry Haller when she intimately acquainted him with her friend, Maria. 

Initially the antithesis of Charley Harper, Harry eventually incorporates some of Charley Harper’s attributes into his complex of personalities.  Or perhaps, he merely becomes reacquainted with them, having experienced them during a happier youth, and then misplaced them.  It occurs to me that Carlos Estevez/Charlie Sheen/Charley Harper might also have opinions with reference to the foregoing (after all, he already has multiple names).  One wonders whether he might not find Derr Schtuppenwolf an excellent title for his own composite biography, or even better, autobiography.  Oh what a tale that could make, with dozens of Hermines and Marias, etc. 

I wonder what my new friend Germán will think of these observations.   He is profoundly serious and eclectic but not bereft of a sense of humor.  And sexual passion and eroticism play crucial roles in his own novel so that the concept of a schtuppenwolf might actually have a role to play therein, albeit unwritten; as it does in many poets and artists, or at least had before the Dawn of the Woke.  Schtuppenwolves, if not extinct, must now be carefully obfuscated.

What an admittedly strange digression in an article concerning serious novels, but perhaps, not one uncalled for.  Rather, what a sad reflection on our values and with reference to the world in which we find ourselves that, rather than joyous, the concept of a schtuppenwolf seems so incongruously out of place when analyzing one of Hermann Hesse’s seminal novels.  Actually, out of place anywhere if one hopes to avoid career shattering litigation.  Ask Johnny Depp for example.

If only the schtuppenwolf’s onomatopoeic component and “punnic” (as a neologistic derivative adjective for pun) aspects were not so prominent.

Postscript of sorts:

I’ve now passed the three quarters mark, I’m towards the end of the masked ball, Hermine has already revealed herself to Harry and, no, Harry lacks the qualities essential for a schtuppenwolf.  The desire is there, and the physical joy, as is the eroticism, but not the predatory elements necessary for a real schtuppenwolf.  In fact, it is Hermine and Maria who possess the requisite combination of energy and apparent disdain that make a schtuppenwolf.  But there’s still almost a quarter of the novel to go, a quarter of the novel in which, perhaps, I`ll find its existential nature, and perhaps a schtuppenwolf or two.

“Yearning”, a fox trot.  Wondering what made it so special to Harry and the rest of the guests at the masque ball, I played it on YouTube.  Alas, I guess I lacked the appropriate context, or perhaps I was too full of context Harry and the others had yet to experience, nor could I identify the sounds of a saxophone Pablo would have been playing.  Oh well.  Still, Hesse made me curious enough to step out of the novel for an instant.  Nicely done!  On the other hand, YouTube automatically played “Suave” by Johannes Linstead next and, though separated by almost a century, Pablo on the saxophone seemed eerily present, eerily but happily.  And it occurred to me that if Harry was not a schtuppenwolf, Pablo most probably was, happily and innocently so.  Can a schtuppenwolf be innocent though?

Now it’s done, resolution irresolutely unresolved and the existential experience denied me.  A strange journey though, in that Magic Theater, the one starring Pablo as the schtuppenwolf and quite a bit more.
_______

© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2023; all rights reserved.  Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.

Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen).  Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales.  He is currently the publisher of the Inannite Review, available at Substack.com, a commentator on Radio Guasca FM, and an occasional contributor to the regional magazine, el Observador.  He has academic degrees in political science (the Citadel), law (St. John’s University), international legal studies (New York University) and translation and linguistic studies (the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies).  However, he is also fascinated by mythology, religion, physics, astronomy and mathematics, especially with matters related to quanta and cosmogony.  He can be contacted at guillermo.calvo.mahe@gmail.com and much of his writing is available through his blog at https://guillermocalvo.com/.