Do you bear the Mark of Cain? (Demian, Part II: Plot summary)

On its face, Demian might seem like a very simple, lightweight novel, with only eight chapters, less than 150 pages, a very small cast, a rather episodic structure, and a plot that’s mostly about the journey through life and Emil Sinclair’s moral and spiritual development. But despite all of those things, the story truly shines as so much deeper and more profound.

Emil Sinclair’s story begins about 1906, when he’s ten years old. All his life, he’s felt safe, comforted, well-ordered, and secure in his family’s shiny, happy, peaceful, calm, pious, wealthy home. However, this home also contains an entirely different second world, that of the servants, who talk of things like prison, ghosts, alcoholism, murder, robbery, suicide, wife-beating, evil spells, injured horses, arson, and cops. From a young age, he’s been inextricably drawn to this forbidden underworld and has felt his family’s world to be boring and depressing in comparison.

Sinclair’s life begins changing forever when Franz Kromer, a 13-year-old public school student and son of an alcoholic tailor, joins him and two of his friends as they’re exploring the town. To try to impress the others when they’re swapping stories about heroics and pranks, Sinclair makes up a windy about robbing gourmet apples from an orchard.

Kromer makes him swear by God that it really happened, and when Sinclair reaches home, the nightmare begins. It so turns out that this orchard really was robbed, and the owner has offered a reward of two marks to anyone who can name the thief. Since Kromer doesn’t come from money like Sinclair, he’s eager to claim this reward.

Sinclair only has 65 cents, which means he’s entirely in Kromer’s servitude until he can produce the full sum of two marks, always summoned by a sickening whistle. During this period, Sinclair does a lot of stealing, lying, and performing humiliating tasks demanded by Kromer, like hopping on one leg for ten minutes and sticking notes on people’s jackets. His health suffers horribly, and his parents know something very wrong is going on, but he can’t tell them the truth.

While these torments are going on, a new boy comes to school, a few years older than Sinclair, who recently lost his father. Like Sinclair, his family is also well-to-do. Max Demian seems so much older than his years, since he carries himself with such maturity. None of the other boys like him, since he keeps to himself, refuses to fight, and acts more like a man than a schoolboy. The only thing they like about him is “the firm and confident tone he took with the teacher.” He and his mother also never attend church, and rumors about his true religion swirl.

One day when they’re walking home together, Demian tells Sinclair a fascinating alternative interpretation of the Cain and Abel story. Cain wasn’t the villain, he was the forward-thinking hero who was already marked and feared because he was so different from other people.

The situation with Kromer intensifies, and Sinclair begins having horrific recurring nightmares, the worst of which involves him murdering his father. Kromer also demands he bring his older sister, which Sinclair refuses to do. But then, after a personal conversation about the matter with Demian, Kromer mysteriously vanishes, and when he encounters Sinclair a few times afterwards, he flees in terror. Sinclair never finds out just how Demian did this.

A few years later, Demian shows up in Sinclair’s confirmation class, since he wasn’t confirmed at the usual age. In a world without separation of church and state, his mother presumably felt being unconfirmed might cause problems for his future.

In this class, Demian’s seat changes several times, until he ends up next to Sinclair. He also introduces Sinclair to psychic games, like compelling the pastor to not call on them or make other boys do a certain gesture. Even more profoundly, thanks to the earlier Midrash about the Mark of Cain, Demian has caused Sinclair to begin interpreting Biblical stories in a more creative, less literal fashion. In confirmation class, Demian shares a new Midrash, about the unrepentant thief at the Crucifixion having the courage of his convictions, while the story of the weepy, repentant thief is “nothing but a sanctimonious fairytale, treacly and dishonest, insipid and sentimental and obviously didactic.”

During one class, Demian goes into a statue-like trance which Sinclair tries and fails to replicate at home.

The next year, Sinclair starts a boarding school in another city, where he feels like a total outsider and unwanted loser until he begins going to bars and getting drunk regularly. His grades plummet as a result, and his parents are quite displeased. But then he encounters a beautiful, intelligent-looking woman whom he names Beatrice, in homage to Dante, and everything immediately turns around. His grades improve and he regains the respect of his teachers and parents, though his old friends reject him with mockery.

Sinclair begins painting, in the hopes of capturing Beatrice’s face, but all his efforts fail. Finally, he creates an image which eerily calls to him, a face both male and female, ageless, dreamy, strong-willed. He hides it in his drawer so no one sees it and makes fun of him, but when he’s alone, he pins it up over his bed so he can constantly gaze upon it.

It dawns on Sinclair that this is Demian’s face, though the features aren’t quite identical. Later, rain smudges the painting, and when it dries between heavy blotting paper, the mouth becomes exactly like Demian’s.

Sinclair’s next artistic mission is to paint the sparrow hawk on top of the coat of arms over his family’s front door, which Demian was very drawn to. He sends the painting to Demian, and in response finds a cryptic note in the pages of a textbook:

“The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That god’s name is Abraxas.”

In that very lecture, the teacher discusses Abraxas, “a deity whose symbolic task is to unite the Divine and the Satanic.”

The winter before graduation, Sinclair is entranced by beautiful organ music from a small church, music that sounds like a prayer and with a great deal of personal expressiveness. He eventually tracks down the organist at a bar, and it turns out this fellow also knows about Abraxas.

Sinclair and Pistorius become fast friends, and spend much time together at Pistorius’s house, mostly lying on their stomachs and staring into the fireplace as the embers, smoke, and flames form pictures, shapes, and letters. However, Sinclair later feels himself growing apart from Pistorius. While Sinclair wants to find his own unique path to wisdom and enlightenment, Pistorius looks entirely to the past and other people’s ideas.

During Sinclair’s first semester at university, he finally encounters Demian again, after not seeing him since a brief meeting during Sinclair’s drunk phase. Demian and his mother Eva, whom Sinclair discovers in shock is the true face he painted and the woman in the recurring sexual dreams he’s had for years, have gathered a group of people who bear the Mark of Cain like they do. For the first time in his life, Sinclair feels like he belongs somewhere and is encouraged to find his own unique destiny and truth.

And then World War One breaks out, and nothing or no one will ever be the same again.

Do you bear the Mark of Cain? (Demian, Part I: My personal relationship with the novel)

Published in 1919 under the pseudonym Emil Sinclair (the name of the narrator), Demian was Hermann Hesse’s long-awaited breakthrough novel. He felt compelled to publish it under a pen name because he was at such a moment of personal crisis, and also wanted a fresh slate after his five previous books hadn’t done as well as he wanted.

I cannot say enough about how very much this special book changed and influenced my entire life. It drew my attention in the summer of 1994, perhaps because of the cover. Many of my father’s old books were kept in my closet, and since my parents never believed in screening my books and forbidding me from reading certain things (except an adult book about the Shoah my mother found me reading at age eight), I had free rein to dive in immediately.

Though I always read about four grade levels up and have never been a slow or reluctant reader, I nevertheless didn’t finish reading it until February 1995. All these years later, I couldn’t begin to tell you what my reading schedule was or why I took about seven months to read a book with only eight chapters and less than 150 pages. Perhaps I just wanted to savour this special grownup book, the very first adult book I read on my own instead of for a school assignment, and the indescribably otherworldly mood it wrapped me in.

Many nights I read Demian in bed after my lights were supposed to be out, which increased the feeling of being right there with Emil Sinclair as he has all these esoteric, spiritual, supernatural experiences. I wouldn’t go so far as to describe it like astral projection, but I did truly feel myself transported into the pages of this novel in a very eerie, indescribable, suprarational way.

Almost as if to make up for my longago slow reading, I reread the book in a single day when I was twenty-four.

Demian is one of those books where every time is like the first time all over again, and a book that speaks to you in new and different ways on the journey through life. Different details pop out; symbolism and literary references resonate more clearly; bits you overlooked now shine very prominently; personal experiences you’ve had since the last time make you relate even more strongly to those aspects of Sinclair’s life.

At fourteen and fifteen, Demian opened my mind to another dimension, with things like Abraxas (a half-good, half-evil deity) and the Midrash about the Mark of Cain being the mark of a nonconformist unafraid to go against the crowd. At twenty-four, the Mark of Cain theme shone even more prominently and personally. At forty-two, I understood how closely it parallels Hesse’s own life and immediately connected to prominent symbolism and cultural references, such as how Sinclair names his ideal of unrequited love Beatrice.

At forty-two, I also appreciated the details of the Mark of Cain Midrash and the concept of Abraxas in greater depth. Abraxas isn’t just a god who’s half-good, half-evil; he’s “a deity whose symbolic task is to unite the Divine and the Satanic.” This very much reminds me of the Jewish teaching that without the yetzer hara (evil inclination), no one would ever marry, have children, build a house, or go into business. It’s just a matter of channelling it in the right direction and having the proper motivation.

Likewise, the Mark of Cain was already there before he killed Abel, and may not even have been a physical mark. People were afraid of him either because he looked different or carried himself differently, a proud black sheep in a world of white sheep, one in a million instead of one of a million. Cain challenged their uncomplicated, conformist beliefs, and they started a story that he and his descendants were dangerous, sinister, immoral.

Also at forty-two, the constant references to Sinclair’s awakening sexual feelings, his recurring sexual dream involving a woman whom he eventually meets and discovers is Demian’s mother, and his frustration at having no outlet for these perfectly natural feelings were impossible to miss or brush aside as a minor plot point. Believe it or not, when I reread the book at twenty-four, I was still 100% virgin myself and believed I would be so until I found a husband. That only changed when I was twenty-eight. I wasn’t asexual; I just had no opportunities to experience sexual desire, and thus didn’t think I was missing anything.

And so many other interpretations, references, symbols, and details that didn’t pop out earlier, like how Demian isn’t just Sinclair’s dear friend, but his guiding daemon, and the very realistic depiction of childhood bullying and what draws certain types of children to be bullies.

I need to stop putting so many years between my rereading of this wonderful book! For over 100 years, it’s spoken so very deeply to so many people around the world.

WeWriWa—New names

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. The rules have now been relaxed to allow a few more sentences if merited, so long as they’re clearly indicated, to avoid the creative punctuation many of us have used to stay within the limit.

I’ve gone back to my hiatused WIP The Strongest Branches of Uprooted Trees, which follows a group of young Shoah survivors during the early postwar years. Part II tells the story of what happened to some of them while they were separated.

Ráhel and Dániel Kovacs, eight and four years old, have escaped from a death train under cover of night and taken shelter in a nearby convent. They’ve been put in a hidden room upstairs, and a doctor performed a tracheostomy on Dániel, who has diphtheria.

Now they’re asked about their names, and Ráhel provides their middle names like her older sister Mirjam told her to do.

The nun who’d answered the door touched Ráhel’s hand and addressed her in Esperanto. “What are you and the boy named?”

“My name is Lívia, and my brother’s name is Frigyes.”

“Freed-yesh? Is there another form of that name? You’ll both need Polish names when our orphanage school starts in the autumn.”

Ráhel thought for a few minutes about her history lessons in school. She knew Dániel’s middle name was in honor of a famous emperor from a long time ago.

“Frederick!” she said excitedly. “My brother’s English name is Frederick!”

The ten lines end here. A few more follow to finish the scene.

“I should’ve guessed that. The Polish name is Fryderyk. Your name will be Liwia. We’ll call you Liwunia, and your brother Fredzio. If you have Jewish names, please don’t tell us. It’s best if we don’t know.”

“Do you feel sick too?” Dr. Kaczka asked.

“No, I had torokgyík last year.” Ráhel took a drink from the new glass of water on the nightstand. “Thank you very much for being nice to us. My mother and sister will give you money after the war.”

“We don’t need money for doing the right thing,” a very young nun said. “For now, the most important thing is to get some rest. We’ll take very good care of you, teach you Polish, and protect you from the Germans. Where did you get that scapular and rosary from?”

Hermann Hesse Month, Part IV (Ranking Hermann Hesse’s novels)

Because 9 August 2022 is the 60th Jahrzeit (death anniversary) of my next-fave writer, Hermann Hesse, I’m showcasing his life and works this month. Let’s continue with my personal ranking of his novels. If you feel differently about some of them, leave a comment explaining why you love a book I disliked or found unmemorable, or why you hate or don’t care for a book I adore.

Hesse’s 1919 breakthrough Demian will always be my #1. I first read it from the summer of 1994 to February 1995, and it had such a huge impact on my life. Demian was also the first adult novel I read independently of school assignments. Everything about this book is absolutely perfect, and it speaks so deeply to the human condition. Particularly meaningful to me are Hesse’s Midrash about the Mark of Cain being something positive, the mark of a nonconformist unafraid to go against the crowd, and the concept of Abraxas, a half-good, half-evil deity.

Narcissus and Goldmund, published in 1930, is another book that’s had a huge impact on my life. I’m not alone in considering it Hesse’s very finest. Many times through life, I’ve thought about Goldmund’s discovery of the close linking of agony and ecstasy. I also love that it’s set during the Middle Ages and includes the Black Plague. It also features the conflict between religious and secular life, without judging or heavily favoring either.

Steppenwolf, published in 1927, is the third of Hesse’s books which most changed my life. I connected so much with Harry, who has such a one-tracked intellectual life of the mind he doesn’t even know how to laugh or dance, and looks poorly on people who aren’t as serious and intellectual as he is. The Magic Theatre which appears in the famous finale also inspired the name of my old Angelfire site and current main blog, only I use the spelling Magick as a nod to ritual, supernatural, esoteric magic. I also love the concept of an inner wolf in all of us, analogous to the id, ego, and superego, and the reptilian brain. My only complaint is that the treatise on the Steppenwolf feels a bit boring at times.

Rosshalde, published in 1914, is my favorite of Hesse’s early novels, and one of his books I read in a single day. It’s a beautiful, emotional, touching, gripping story about a marriage falling apart (similar to Hesse’s own first marriage), a visit from an old friend, a father’s difficult relationship with his older son and his clear strong preference for his younger son, said younger son’s serious illness over the summer, and the life of a painter. Rosshalde (Roßhalde in German) is the name of the family’s mansion.

Beneath the Wheel, published in 1906, was Hesse’s second novel. Like so many of his other books, it’s heavily autobiographical, this time drawing from his difficulties at school. The protagonist, Hans, is an academic prodigy, but his education focused solely upon the acquisition of knowledge and an interior life of the mind. Thus, he has a hard time making friends in the real world and forming personal connections to other people when he returns to his village after being expelled from school for bad grades and a mental crackup. Though he likes his work as a mechanic’s apprentice well enough, he never fully adjusts to this life outside of the ivory tower.

Peter Camenzind, published in 1904, was Hesse’s début novel. I love this sweet, simple story of a young man leaving his home to find his own path in life and discover who he is. One of the most touching aspects of the novel is Peter’s friendship with the old cripple Boppi, whom he was initially physically repelled by but later became best friends with. During a visit to the zoo, they realize in delight that they switched from Sie to Du without being aware of it.

Siddhartha, celebrating its 100th anniversary in 2022, remains Hesse’s best-known novel, sometimes the only one non-fans have read or know about.  Though it was published in 1922, it only came to the U.S. in translation in 1951. It’s the story of a young man in Ancient Nepal who leaves his home in the hopes of finding spiritual fulfillment and happiness (a common theme among Hesse’s novels!). His best friend Govinda joins him, though they later part ways when Govinda joins Buddha’s religious order and Siddhartha chooses to find his own unique path. If you love Buddhism and Eastern philosophy, you’ll probably enjoy this book.

Gertrude, published in 1910, was the second Hesse novel I read, back in the spring of 1995. It’s the story of a musician who suffers a paralyzing injury from a tobogganing accident and rises to become a successful composer. He also passionately loves Gertrud, whom he believes could never desire him in return on account of his crippledness. A lovely, moving story about unrequited love and the power of music.

Journey to the East, published in 1932, is one of Hesse’s most forgettable novels for me. It’s about a pilgrimage to the East by some members of a group called The League (which includes some of Hesse’s own characters, like Goldmund, Klingsor, and Vasudeva, as well as real people like Picasso, Paul Klee, Don Quixote, and Mozart). During their journey, a servant named Leo disappears, and the group dissolves into bickering and anxiety. Years later, the narrator tries to write about this journey, but fails at this endeavor. Then Leo reappears and tells him he has to appear before the High Throne to be judged by The League.

Knulp, published in 1915, consists of three stories written between 1907–14. It follows a vagrant, Knulp, who merrily flits all over the towns he passes through on his happy-go-lucky travels. The only thing I remember about this book is how it ends! However, at least I enjoyed reading it.

Hesse’s final novel, The Glass Bead Game, published in 1943, was the only book of his I found a boring chore and slog instead of a page-turning joy. At least he redeemed himself at the end with the Three Lives stories and the poems, and I loved Joseph Knecht’s friendships with the old Music Master and Plinio Designori. I’m far from the only reader who still had no idea by the end how this Glass Bead Game is actually played, and feel like Hesse chose the ending he did because he was out of his league with a book of this length and decided to just pull the plug in media res before it ballooned even more. Hesse was far more effective with short novels.

Hermann Hesse Month, Part III (Hermann Hesse awards and memorials)

Since 9 August 2022 is Hermann Hesse’s 60th Jahrzeit (death anniversary), I’m devoting the month of August to a celebration of his life and works. Today we’re exploring his legacy in the form of awards, prizes, and medals named for him, as well as museums, colloquia, stamps, music, and more.

In 1956, in celebration of Hesse’s approaching 80th birthday (2 July 1957),  Fördergemeinschaft der Deutschen Kunst eV (the Association for the Promotion of German Art) in Karlsruhe, Germany created the Hermann Hesse Literature Prize. They felt it was very important to support postwar German literature, and Hesse immediately gave his consent when he was asked about it in 1955:

“I agree with the Karlsruhe Hesse Prize. Since the young poet gains something from it, it may at least be reminded of the past and tradition through my name.”

Originally, the winner got 10,000 marks. Today, it earns 15,000 Euros plus a sponsorship prize of another 5,000 Euros.

The Calwer Hermann Hesse Prize has been awarded since 1990, on 2 July, Hesse’s birthday, for international literary works in his tradition. They can be either original works or translations, and up to three people can win the award every year. The Calwer Hermann Hesse Foundation also awards a scholarship.

Thrice a year, a writer or translator spends three months in Calw, Hesse’s hometown, to provide them with literary inspiration for their work. They’re provided with an apartment and a monthly salary of 2,000 Euros. The prize itself was originally 20,000 marks, but is now 20,000 Euros.

Since 2017, Calw’s International Hermann Hesse Society has also awarded the International Hermann Hesse Society Prize.

Calw additionally shows its great love and respect for its native son through the Hermann Hesse Medal of the City of Calw, awarded since 1964. Recipients demonstrate “outstanding merit or creative work in the civic, social or scientific field or a special connection with the city of Calw.” Winners include politicians, artists, Hesse scholars, literary historians, and bookbinders.

In 1964, Calw archivist Walter Staudenmeyer created a memorial to Hesse above the city’s new archive. Some of the items were on loan from Marbach’s Schiller National Museum, and have since been returned. However, in their place, new additions to the collection were made through the purchase of Hesse’s watercolours and letters, first editions, and other treasures.

A permanent museum was created with these objects in March 1990. Other members of Hermann Hesse’s family, like his maternal grandfather Hermann Gundert, are also celebrated here. Lectures and special programmes are regularly held.

In Calw, there are also commemorative plaques at Hesse’s birthplace and residence from 1889–94, and the publishing house Calwer Verlagsverein, which both sides of his family worked for.

Hesse’s birthplace, Copyright Frank Vincentz

On 13 September 1991, German astronomers Freimut Börngen and Lutz Dieter Schmadel discovered an inner main belt asteroid at the Thuringian State Observatory Tautenberg in the Tautenberg Forest of the state of Thuringia. It was designated as 9762. Seven years later, on 8 December 1998, it was named Hermannhesse (one word).

Hesse Museum, Copyright Silesia711

In 1948, 84-year-old Richard Strauss wrote a four-song cycle based on Hermann Hesse’s poems “Frühling” (“Spring”), “September,” “Beim Schlafengehen” (“When Falling Asleep”) and Joseph von Eichendorff’s poem “Im Abendrot” (“At Sunset”). Since these were among Strauss’s final completed works, his friend Ernst Roth posthumously titled them Vier Letzte Lieder (Four Last Songs) when he published them in 1950.

Strauss thought about setting two more Hesse poems, “Nacht” (“Night”) and “Höhe des Sommers” (“Height of Summer”), to music, and started work on a choral setting of the Hesse poem “Besinnung” (“Reflection”), but abandoned the project because it was too complicated.

All the poems except “Frühling” deal with Death, which perhaps appealed to Strauss as he neared the end of his life. The musical settings of these poems are full of acceptance, calm, and coming full circle.

Strauss passed away in September 1949.

The songs are meant for a soprano, and scored for a piccolo, three flutes (the third doubling as a second piccolo), two oboes, an English horn, two clarinets, a bass clarinet, three bassoons (the third doubling as a contrabassoon), four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, a tuba, a timpani, a harp, a celesta, and strings.

Copyright Hans-juergen.breuning

Casa Camuzzi, a castle-like palazzo with an exotic, terraced park in Hesse’s adopted hometown of Montagnola, Switzerland, where he lived from 1919–31, contains a museum celebrating his life and works. It opened on 2 July 1997, his 120th birthday.

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Another Hesse museum is located in Gaienhofen, Germany. There’s also a special cabinet in Tübingen, Germany, where he apprenticed and worked in an antiquarian bookstore.

Many streets, squares, and schools throughout Switzerland and Germany are named for him, and in 2023, the Württemberg Black Forest Railway from Stuttgart is scheduled to be renamed the Hermann-Hesse-Bahn.

In 2002, to mark his 125th birthday, Deutsche Post issued a stamp of Hermann Hesse.

The manuscripts, artwork, and other artifacts from his estate are kept in various archives and libraries in Switzerland, Germany, and Austria. Since 1977, the International Hermann Hesse Colloquium has been held in Calw every few years, and since 2000, the Silser-Hesse Days have been held in Sils-Maria, Switzerland every summer.

http://www.hermann-hesse-preis.de/ (Hermann Hesse Literature Prize)
http://www.hermann-hesse.de/stiftung (Calwer Hermann Hesse Foundation)
http://www.lieder.net/lieder/assemble_texts.html?SongCycleId=55 (German text of Four Last Songs)
http://www.hessemontagnola.ch/ (Hermann Hesse Montagnola Museum)

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