Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

Perhaps this book is interesting as an example of the dichotomization of body/mind, angel/whore, ascete/wayfarer. Put the dicktalk aside (which is no small task here) and you still have an enormous vine from which to swing back and forth from pole to pole. At best woman is subject here, at worst she so thoroughly blends into the background she's invisible. More than bleak considering this is a meditation on the roles of the artist and thinker (and never the twain shall meet mind you) in a modern world. While i suppose Hesse was trying to justify the new free-thinking, free-loving, long hair wearing male artist of the twentieth century, he really does less to exhort new modes of being and more towards the reinforcement of woman-loathing Cartesian dualism. She is both giver and taker away and yet completely and utterly powerless as an entity free of him, the center; she has no option but to be both the beginning and end of him. No no no. Nope.