First published in 1774, in German, by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, this book is regarded as one of its kind. See below from the introduction:
"Werther is the first German novelette (a form in which German writers have excelled), the first German epistolary novel and the first German work of any kind to make both its author and his country's literature internationally known."The book has been translated a lot many times since its first publication. Perhaps a fitting place to add a bit about translations. Some books are ideally read in their own language. But there, I'm quite impaired, knowing nothing beyond two languages. They also say about certain books that it is better to read them in translation than not read them at all. And I guess I find it easier to subscribe to this philosophy. I enjoy stories from different times and countries, which means I read a lot of translated books. Choosing and finding a good translation can be difficult for the more famous works. A bit of google, a look at sources you trust, and you get a fair guidance. At the end of the day, availability and access rule what translation I end up reading.
Werther is set in epistolary form - letters by Werther to his friend (mostly), one way, responses not shared in the book. A new term that I learnt, epistolary novels: novels written as series of documents. I have tried to read Clarissa (the other famous epistolary novel) in the past with little progress. And last year I read Diderot's Memoirs of a Nun - the epistolary prank by Denis Diderot.
Spoilers ahead.
The book is about Werther falling in love with Lotte, who is engaged to another. And the eventual absorption and annihilation of Werther. You see the unrequited love (or would one call it a crush in modern times?), developing letter by letter. Knowingly our protagonist walks into trouble and that doesn't end well for him. It can't be helped, but if addressed, and handled with a tough will, it could easily have been otherwise. But then, there won't be a story to be told.
May be it is how it comes across in translation, may be it is since these are letters to a friend, I find Werther quite self-absorbed and a shade arrogant, considering only himself in the whole equation (not even Lotte in the way things play out and affect her). To that end, his love is not the selfless love but a sort of unhealthy, selfish absorption. I find his way of looking at the world convoluted - he chooses to see what he wishes to see (which, agreed, most of us do most of the time). At times, there are moments in his letters when you see an old, wise soul shining through (see some quotes below), but most of the time, Werther behaves like a spoiled child. There is a tone of complaint, a sort of whining throughout his letters. It is just the impression that I get. May be, this is the author's way of portraying the protagonist. May be, the times have changed and what was ok 250 years ago might be considered wrong today.
I wonder whether Werther's problem was just a matter of finding another occupation? May be I am simplifying matters. But I believe, that had Werther found a better occupation, and distance from what had captured his heart, mind and imagination, there would have been a Werther living for longer. If only he had removed himself from the scene. Given himself distance and time away from Lotte, time enough to find other interests to occupy his thoughts and mind, there'll be something else vying for his attentions, perhaps pulling Lotte's thoughts to the right proportion instead of the way they envelope and consume his psyche. May be, then there would have been the pain of lost love that he would have lived with, but hopefully, with time, its edges would have been dulled. In the book too, once Werther finds employment away from Lotte, there is less talk about his thoughts on Lotte, more about other troubles in his life. And the reason he continues to stay unhappy in the clerical job is more to do with the general tedium of life, and ennui and difficulties of living and bonding, which, short of a worthy pursuit or purpose, makes life dull for one and all. And Werther, tired of this tedium, rediscovers his worthy pursuit in Lotte. A path which eventually keeps curving back in, in smaller and smaller circles, leaving no other space or option for him, then to subsumed by the abyss his life becomes without Lotte.
That, is a point of view on the protagonist, not the book. The point that the author is making is reminding us that what Werther pursues is worthy of pursuit. Given the meaning or non-meaning of life, any pursuit is worthy of the pursuer depending on how much value one assigns to stuff. It is like beauty, in the eyes of beholder. Yet, going by the more practical, the more mundane, or what Brodsky calls, tedious way of our lives, the loss of Werther's life was avoidable. Yes, it proves a point, but a big cost for proving a point. And yet again, Werther is not really concerned with the practical, or the mundane. He just wishes to be valued for his heart (following, him talking about a friend he is staying with):
"he prizes my intelligence and my talents more than he does this heart, which is after all my sole pride, which is the only source of everything I have, of all my force, all my bliss and all my misery. Oh, anyone can know what I know - only I possess my heart."
Despite knowing where it was going, I was saddened and moved by the ending.
**
The flowing prose feels very different than most of the modern, clipped, sparse prose. Perhaps the sentimentality and emotional extravagance has something to do with the times this book was written in. One can perhaps see Werther in Julien Sorel (The Red and the Black by Stendhal), and oddly, Gatsby.
**
There are a few quotes from the book which I find interesting. Recording them here.
"...I have found again, my dear fellow that misunderstandings and lethargy produce more wrong in the world than deceit and malice do. At least the two latter are certainly rarer."
On expressing how you feel:
"ah, could you express all that again, could you breathe onto paper that which lives in you so fully, so warmly, that it could become the reflection of your soul as your soul is the mirror of infinite God!"
On people, and his thoughts on working for living (which so much more of the humanity does now. Talk about landed gentry and the commonfolks. Most of the world is common folks now).
"If you ask me what the people here are like, I must tell you, "Like people everywhere!" Uniformity marks the human race. Most of them spend the greater part of their time in working for a living, the scanty freedom that is left to them burdens them so that they seek every means of getting rid of it. O fate of man!"
On life,
"That the life of man is only a dream has seemed to be so to many before now, and I too always carry this feeling about with me."
**
One gets to wonder about letter writing. When people wrote on typewriter or longhand, they would have to fully form their sentences and thoughts. Make their fragmentary notes elsewhere. I have written and received a lot of longhand letters from penfriends before emails changed communication for ever. It was a pleasure, waiting expectantly for the postman. And rambling on in longhand. Not the way I do now, going all over the screen, adding, editing, changing the sentences, paragraphs, grouping this or that. Even for this post. When you do not have a word processor, there is so little forgiveness in the system. You have to be articulate and think through what you wish to say before you say it. But I find the word processors better. If writing is a process of discovery for your thoughts, then we live in good times of word processors. Borrowing a borrowed quote from An Exaltation of Larks beginning essay, where James Lipton is quoting W.H. Auden quoting a child who says:
"How can I know what I think 'til I see what I say?"