A Hard Day's Night - The Beatles - album analysis

In assessing the back catalogue of The Beatles, one curious thought has assailed my mind. It occurs to me that the album "A Hard Day's Night", though a highly accomplished and engaging work, is somewhat overlooked and underrated, if not exactly forgotten. So why the relative indifference?  This is possibly because the record gets rather lost in the shadow of the film of the same name, which admittedly is a charming and sharp piece. 

For me, the album represents a very definite and solid staging point in the group's maturation and development, but such accolades are normally reserved for the albums which followed it, including "Rubber Soul" and parts of "Help". 

There is a peculiar solidity and compactness about "A Hard Day's Night", insomuch as it has little in the way of egregious filler material (what filler exists is skilfully concealed) or "outlier" tracks. The "holes" which characterize many albums of that era are not perceptible, and the "Merseybeat" elements are slowly evaporating.

The record also possessed a distinct stylistic or sonic unity, and ironically this particular quality may contribute to a perception that it is "samey" and lacking in variety. This impression is actually illusory, but by the same token close scrutiny is required to draw out the material and cut through any misconceptions.

It is noteworthy that this record contains only "Lennon-McCartney" song-writing credits, and this tendency doubtless helps to bolster the feeling of uniformity when regarding the work. One thing which I think can be said for certain is that "A Hard Day's Night" is not a transitional album; it captures The Beatles in a stable, buoyant and self-confident place. 

A point to remember is that the group managed to maintain such excellence and focus amidst a hectic and demanding schedule of touring and other activity. Even the Beatles were human, however, and similar feats proved beyond them in late 1964 and into 1965. The seeds of "Rubber Soul" can be discerned here, I would contend, but the full realisation of that promise would have to wait, delayed by the workload imposed by their commitments.

The burst of creativity and ideas emanating from John Lennon at this time may have saved "A Hard Day's Night" from a fate similar to that which befell "Beatles for Sale" and "Help". Also, the adrenaline and excitement of the first portion of 1964 helped to forestall ennui and world-weariness. This album has a reputation as a "Lennon album", but Paul McCartney's contributions, as composer, vocalist and instrumentalist are impactful and of a high standard.

The earthy and organic textures of this LP are intriguing, and possibly stem in part from the breadth and pervasiveness of the influences which the members of The Beatles were absorbing in 1964, including folk music and the nascent folk-rock scene. 

I feel that the absence of cover versions imbues the record with a forward-looking, streamlined and purposeful identity and momentum. This is almost akin to a crystallization of their development and growth to date. The ascent to the next level was perhaps less smooth and straightforward than they might have envisaged.

"Thinking out loud" slightly now, but this collection inaugurated what I have tended to view as a distinct phase, spanning 1964-65, one of more acoustic-tinged fare, a maturing of the songwriting, and the eventual forsaking of the rock n roll covers. It could be argued that the relatively disjointed nature of the two albums which followed "A Hard Day's Night" was an inevitable consequence of the process of evolution.

As mentioned earlier, it is recognised that John Lennon's personality and song-writing predominate on these sides, but that Paul McCartney's all-round musical panache and exuberance contribute greatly to the overall effect. Additionally, McCartney's own songs make up in interest and quality what they lack in sheer volume. There is an argument for saying that this is the first Beatles album where the complementary strengths and traits of Lennon and McCartney really interact and make their presence felt in a noticeable and meaningful way. Lennon's restless energy and brooding spirit mesh with McCartney's dynamism and optimism, the facets reacting agreeably in elevating the group to new heights.

Examining the record track-by-track, I would say that the title song tends to be taken for granted, but it is very impactful, with its famous opening "chord" and the arpeggiated ending. The music in between those two points is very impressive, having a raw rhythm and blues feel, and in that sense it is a quintessential Lennon song. This number deserves to be re-appraised in isolation from the film of the same name.

"I Should Have Known Better" is eminently likeable, and for me it typifies a slight incongruity with some Beatle songs of the period, that of maturing musical content and aspirations, but progress was not necessarily reflected in correspondingly "advanced" lyrics. However, the Dylanesque harmonica and a pleasing melodic base override any minor reservations.

The next song, "If I Fell", is an example of sumptuous Beatles vocal harmonies of a kind which they should really have tried more often on record. It is also emblematic of the fluent melodicism and musicality which are characteristic of the LP as a whole.

Although George Harrison did not get one of his own compositions on to the album, he was allotted a lead vocal spot on "I'm Happy Just to Dance with You". By no means a masterpiece, but it also emits some of that spark and charm which graced almost everything which they touched around this time.

"And I Love Her" is a number which displays the burgeoning sophistication of The Beatles as song-writers and musicians. There is also a hint of a "confessional" style of lyrics, exploring relationships and personal experiences in a more advanced manner. The song is pleasantly tuneful in the customary McCartney way.

I always found "Tell Me Why" to be filler material of sorts. It sounds good and it helps to fill out the album running order, but the filler here is less jarring and conspicuous than in the releases made by their contemporaries. It has some brio and joie de vivre, and Lennon's vocal is quite forceful and memorable.

"Can't Buy Me Love", one of the record's most famous songs, is another one which illustrates a growing polish and confidence in the group's work. I suspect that tunes such as this one brought more people of the older generations into the Beatles' camp, as it swings like some jazz and "easy listening" recordings. The production is also smooth and clean.

From the same territory as "Tell Me Why" comes "Any Time At All", a song which is not from the top drawer, but which packs quite a punch. It has sufficient atmosphere and melody to maintain the interest and the attention. Lennon once again impresses on vocals, and the piece exudes some assurance.

"I'll Cry Instead" is another of those tracks which is unexceptional, but which blends seamlessly into the fabric of the project. There is a country and western flavour, and this genre crept into the band's output in the period 1964-65, courtesy in part of Ringo Starr's musical leanings. Also, country music is not a great leap from the rockabilly so beloved by all four Beatles. I detect a Rolling Stones vibe in parts of this song, the verses especially.

Another highlight, in a quiet way, of the collection is "Things We Said Today". The lyrics are interesting and the song has an affectingly enigmatic, almost haunting, quality. It signals a shift away from formulaic song-craft.

Probably the weakest effort on the record is "When I Get Home". It is rather uninspired, but never genuinely becomes a "sore thumb", in the sense of tarnishing the overall effect of the album. It is not quite as bad as some reviewers have alleged, and it has a few interesting moments.

"You Can't Do That" performs an important role in the running order. Its R & B flavour imbues the album with some rhythmic incisiveness and breaks up the diet of folk-rock and beat music which pervades the LP. 

The closer, "I'll Be Back", is another slice of "wooden" folk-inflected music, epitomizing the forward-looking dimensions of this work, and anticipating the "Help" and "Rubber Soul" eras to come. 

On reflection, "A Hard Day's Night" is one of The Beatles' most impressive and solid achievements. The hallmarks of the early days are still there, but the future direction and influences are also visible. A crucial and coherent part of the canon.

Now And Then - "new" Beatles song

 I am sure that I was not alone in my eager and curious anticipation of the release of "Now And Then", billed as the last Beatles song. I have to confess that I was there, refreshing the page on my chosen streaming service as the time of release approached. So, what do I make of "Now And Then"?

Inevitably, when appraising the single, people are going to draw comparisons with "Free as A Bird" and "Real Love", the two Beatles tracks which emerged from similar foundations and source material, and which formed part of the Anthology projects in the 1990s.

For me "Now And Then" betrays more signs of its origins than its aforementioned predecessors, but at the same time the production and the arrangement which surround the lead vocal feel more organic and restrained.

The atmosphere of the track is somewhat mournful, enveloped in a kind of wistfulness. My initial reaction was that this is apposite for our times, a sense of melancholy, ennui and nagging anxiety. Was this general tenor intended to tap into the perceived public mood of 2023? I'm not really sure, but it was one of the first characteristics of "Now And Then" which jumped out to me. It may be another case of that perennial Beatles facility for effortlessly evoking the zeitgeist. 

On the face of it the song lacks the "charm" and ebullience of, for instance, "Real Love", and even its musical subtlety, but that may be missing the point; on reflection, "Now And Then" should perhaps be viewed more as a "mood piece", rather than as a hook-laden potboiler. 

In putting the track together, they resisted the temptation to try too hard to make it "exciting", relying instead on the qualities of the basic song, then judiciously embellishing the raw material, as it were.

I think they have done a commendable job in playing to the song's strengths and lyrical direction, as opposed to making it into something that it wasn't. Having suggested that the overall ambience is downbeat, I think that the instrumentation and arrangement are in keeping with the reflective nature of the words. The piano and electric guitars are tastefully done, and Ringo Starr's drumming exhibits his distinctive "feel" to some effect.

So, overall a creditable effort, provided that the listener did not have excessive expectations beforehand. It sounds "modern", which to some degree is inescapable, but it has a personality and an effect. 

Rosshalde, by Hermann Hesse. A second reading.

Carrying on my renewed exploration of the novels of Hermann Hesse, I came to Rosshalde, which I remember made a great impression on me at the first time of asking a few years back.

The story examines the situation of an artist, Johann Veraguth, who lives on quite an opulent estate. His wife also lives on the estate, but they live in separate houses. The marriage has become deeply unhappy, The couple's youngest son, Pierre, is really all that now connects them. The boy lives mostly with his mother, whilst the eldest son is mostly away at school.

It seems that his desire to spend time with Pierre is the only thing which leads Johann to keep up the "pretence", and remain at Rosshalde. A visit from a friend, Otto, a man with an outgoing and inquisitive approach to life, sets in motion a series of fundamental contemplations and decisions on Johann's part, and then tragedy intervenes.

As I hinted at in my opening paragraph, Rosshalde made quite an impact on me when I first read it. The novel exudes a charm, a poignancy and a poetic sensibility which set it apart, even from most of Hesse's work. These qualities may to some extent stem from the fact that the story is, it seems, partly auto-biographical in nature.

The opening chapter sets the scene and the tone effortlessly and beautifully, outlining the ambience of the setting and its natural environs, the dynamics and the intricacies of the human relationships which play out there and which are the centrepieces of the story. We are also introduced to the habits and the demeanour of Johann.

These initial constructions go a long way to ensuring the effect and the atmosphere of the Rosshalde story, in its gently endearing but wistful evocations.

The visit paid to Rosshalde by Otto, and its influence on Johann's thinking, are central to the tale, and provoked much thought on my own part. Associating with vibrant, joyous people often brings us to realise what we are missing out on. It is also arguable that these encounters which wrench us away from an insular, secluded existence have a kind of randomness and transience to them. It is so easy to miss that particular train, in that it does not operate to a set timetable.

Johann's experiences also remind us that many individuals who appear, at first glance, to be living an enviable and stimulating life in fact feel unfulfilled. We are not all content with material comfort and professional "success".

Sometimes our pride makes it difficult for us to admit that something is absent. We pretend, or delude ourselves, that we are contented and happy. The point is made in this novel that contentment is perhaps an indicator of a lack of hope. We see some things merely as a means of blocking out distress, misery or sorrow, rather than as a path to positive self-realisation.

The passages which detail Otto's visit to Rosshalde are highly affecting and exquisitely composed, It is advisable for the reader to devote some time to carefully digesting the vagaries of the exchanges between Johann and his friend.

I find this novel important because it addresses, in a quiet and unspectacular way, so many aspects of the human experience which weigh so heavily. Love, compromise, doing things for the wrong reasons, enduring because the alternative is worse. Not being bitter about the past, but embracing the present and the moment. One door closes, another one opens. Also, sometimes Nature intervenes and engineers the change for us.

A striking note for me was the tragedy of human antipathy, miscommunication and misunderstanding, and the acknowledgement, however frustrating, that this is cold reality. There is little point in feeling angry about these things, for that would mostly be a waste of energy. We must learn how to cope, and also to be kind and reasonable in how we navigate the storms. Some horrors, such as loneliness and disillusionment, can be borne provided that there is hope.

The idea of the artist (in this case Johann) "burying himself in his work" - is this comparable to people burying themselves in their work to block out or forget personal woes? - is another theme touched on.  Does such an approach simply serve as a holding operation, rather than constituting an escape or a solution to the individual's predicament? What is perhaps needed is lasting relief, and not a constant urge to drown the anxieties. Not everyone is fortunate enough to receive the stimulus or the resolution.

The great irony of the story is that the event which finally "liberates" Johann is the demise of that which he had hitherto clung to as a beacon.  I am sure many people can identify with this element of the story, and the temptation to attach "irrational" interpretations to such events.

Rosshalde I found hugely enjoyable and stimulating, but I was also left with some quite stark feelings. On the one hand a certain admiration and satisfaction for a person who has, quite late in the day, achieved clarity and sureness of course. On the other, a certain cold wonder concerning the tragedies and follies of people. Even someone who nowadays is much more resigned to the inevitability and inescapability of those latter phenomena cannot fail to be jolted by their shadows and icy pervasiveness. The certainty that these things are facts of life does little to diminish their impressiveness.

Great Expectations - Charles Dickens

I am not exactly sure where the spur emanated from, but I was recently seized with the intention to return to the works of Charles Dickens, after a break of many years. It may be because some of his books resemble in their format and their "method", the work of Hermann Hesse, perhaps my favourite novelist.

I remember having a copy of Great Expectations during childhood. It became mislaid, or was given away, or else became a casualty of my unaccountable teenaged and early adult drift away from literature, or more specifically the novel. I may have been too busy with "abstract" and theoretical academic studies to be bothered with the humanistic and interpretative demands of classic fiction, much to my detriment. 

Looking back wistfully, I am tempted to speculate that Dickens may have constituted a better education, in a meaningful sense. Having said all this, I doubt that even as a teenager I would have been able to effectively absorb and assimilate all of the material and meaning which proliferate in Dicken's more substantial works.

To summarize, and without giving too much away, the novel tells the story of the development and growth of the 'Pip' character, and is 'narrated' by Pip in the first-person. The latter helps to endow the story with a distinct and curious flavour.

Some of the language and terminology employed may baffle present-day audiences, but to me this is but a small obstacle, and in fact it imbues the novel with a period feel and a strengthened feeling of realism. 

It might appear at first, in a superficial sense, that the story's structure relies too much on a number of coincidences. However, when one subjects affairs to a greater scrutiny it all becomes plausible and more clear; it could be a small world, even in 19th century England. One common factor links much of it together.

This is one of those novels which gathers momentum gradually but surely, as it draws the reader inexorably in. The motives, traits and eccentricities of the various characters help to drive and solidify these processes. Eventually I found myself rooting for the "good guys", once it became clearer who the good guys were.

I would contend that circumspection and leisure are handy things to observe when tackling Great Expectations. They are necessary in order to achieve and maintain a grasp of the plot, to "join the dots" as it were, and keep track of the various participants and their numerous connections.

The social commentary and satire is not quite as overt and as near to the surface as I had expected. but Dickens' concerns and his reformist ideas are still discernible, woven into the narrative and certain of the characterisations - some stand out more than others in the latter respect. Occasionally Pip does make a cutting comment in his account, invariably veiled in sarcasm or humour.

One of the foremost themes which for me stood out was a notion of the goodness, the authenticity and the transparency of ordinary people. This could have emerged in a romantic or "idealized" manner, but it does not, instead being brought out in a subtle way, as something to be picked up and acknowledged by the reader. The first-person narration helps to further this impression, serving to "soften" the impact of any message which the author may or not have been seeking to project, even allowing for the temptation to put words into Pip's mouth.

Let us just say that if the social climate and the economic picture portrayed here were anything like accurate, we can scarcely wonder that Dickens and his contemporaries craved reform and change. The picture of brutalized sections of society is a stark one, and worth more than a moment's contemplation. The dangers of such a scenario, now as then, remain something which we should all bear in mind and seek to guard against.

To me, it seemed that some of the key individual events or incidents in the novel did not have the conventional sense of "drama" or "moment" which I had been conditioned to expect. Some things appeared to just "happen", explained in poetic, even cryptic terms, and the story then moved on, with full explanation sometimes only occurring via the insight of the reader.  When I reflect upon this, it is less a criticism of this particular work, and more a sign of the types of literature which I have habitually frequented. The first-person narration is also a salient point in all this. What the occurrences lost in initial, literal clarity they gained in lyrical and artistic effect.

The mental imagery evoked by the words of Dickens, as spoken through Pip, is very strong, or at least it was strong and affecting in my case. The major locations and settings soon assume a real identity and consistency, and these may prove to be instrumental in attaining an enhanced enjoyment of the tale, and arriving at a deeper appraisal of the characters and the issues explored.

A reason for this novel's significance and enduring appeal is that some of the themes which it examines are universal and not governed by time. One which was highlighted for me was this concept of trying to "compensate" for the effects of our injudicious or errant deeds, even if those deeds might have been committed under duress or through naivete. If we cannot reverse or directly counter-act our mistakes, we can at least learn from our mistakes and experiences, and seek to be a force for good, for humane treatment of others, and for justice. These elements had a distinct resonance for this reader, partly with reference to today's social ills and pressures.

Charles Dickens has sometimes been associated, in my mind at least, with social commentary and the grim industrial and urban landscapes of 19th century London and England. Having returned to Great Expectations, I am happy to revise and retract those outdated and erroneous perspectives. In this novel Dickens shows himself to be a highly capable and resourceful story-teller, with the capability of weaving endearing and captivating narratives. Maybe I will read David Copperfield next - to the best recollection that one eluded me entirely in my younger days....

Peter Camenzind, by Hermann Hesse - a second reading

 As I continue my second major odyssey through the writings of Hermann Hesse, I turn to his first novel, Peter Camenzind, published in 1904.

It follows the story of the titular character, a young man from the countryside, who goes away to college and subsequently embarks on various travels, friendships and cultural ventures. The novel concludes with Peter returning to his home village to support his ageing father.

What I really like about Peter Camenzind is its streamlined and simple format. Also, Hesse does not settle for stereotypical or "obvious" plot elements or characterizations. The tale is laid out in a pleasingly organic way, exuding a charm and fluency which are outstanding even by Hesse's standards.

The character of Peter Camenzind is quite idiosyncratic but eminently plausible, and he does not necessarily conform to what we expect from protagonists in this type of novel, by Hesse or others. The reader is challenged to accept and recognise that we all have our own quirks and that we all react in different ways to our influences, our upbringing and our environment. We are perhaps mistaken if we cherish the notion that all people develop within a narrow set of parameters.  Young Mr Camenzind is by no means a caricature.

It is telling, I think, that on revisiting the stories of Hermann Hesse, I am a good deal less receptive to the "supernatural" dimension than I was in the past. Instead, I distil things down to a "philosophical" and worldly interpretation, and I would contend that one does not need to be religious or spiritually inclined to be animated and invigorated by Hesse's observations.

As ever, Hesse demonstrates a great facility for evoking imagery through words, imagery which conjures up a vibrant but believable series of locations and situations. This to me suggests a fertile imagination and an observant mind, in addition to solid and wide-ranging personal experience.

The philosophical drive, if one was intended, does not seem as clear and as strong in this novel as is the case with some of Hesse's others. The reader is left with the task of interpreting much of what transpires within the pages. Apart from the standard Hesse themes of self-discovery and a search for personal identity, the "message" is comparatively diffuse here, and the novel is none the worse for that. Only in his later works would Hesse flesh out and engage with his regular fields of inquiry in more concentrated form.

Peter Camenzind's story is an indication that Hesse's work was more varied than some might imagine, and that it evolved and developed over time. It is also fair to say that keen antennae are required to discern the differences and nuances. Even if one accepts that the author's books cover similar ground, I would rather have writing of this quality, continuity and profundity than that of novelists whose subject matter is all over the map but anodyne. Reading Hesse is a journey and an education, not just a form of "entertainment" or relaxation. 

Due to the apparent absence of an all-pervading major theme, the story-line, which is told in the "first person", glides along smoothly, relatively uncluttered by weighty concerns. Hesse is highly adept at basic, enjoyable story-telling, quite apart from his other qualities.

So what did I learn from Peter Camenzind's story?  Well, a conception which crops up here and there is the sense that our experiences, good and bad, even if we do not put them to concrete or tangible use, equip us and embolden us to tackle life's ongoing challenges and trials, although we do not always realise this. In addition, what sustains us is a belief, even a confidence, that something good or rewarding will eventually be ours. This faith may be misplaced and unlikely in reality to ever bear fruit, but a tentative form of progress, consciously and otherwise, towards this vague objective is in the main healthy, provided that we do not visualise the ultimate goal too pedantically or obsessively.

Throughout the novel, Nature, and mankind's relationship to it in the modern age, is a recurring topic. The notion of revering and studying Nature as a means of appreciating and loving our fellow humans more fully is put forward. I must confess that this aspect of Camenzind's wanderings and reflections hit home with me, as someone who has become aware from personal experience of the realities of alienation and detachment.

Recognising that we interact with Nature, as well as being part of it ourselves, may assist in renewing some severed connections, as well as enabling us to steer a more fulfilling and mindful course, by breathing in Nature's gifts. Beauty comes in many forms. These questions are arguably even more pressing and relevant today than when Hesse was composing this story.

The portions of this novel which I relished most were those which chronicled Camenzind's travels, especially those to Italy, and the manner in which he relates the healing and soothing effects of mixing with and befriending ordinary people, with their modesty, humility and earthy goodness. It is perhaps not a coincidence that those people lived more closely attuned to Nature and its munificence.

I sensed that in a way Hesse was setting the authenticity and genuineness of common folk against some others who he encountered in the worlds of academia and art, those who had been affected by ego, vanity and ambition. These points do not really feel to me like an attempt to "romanticize" the distinction, but the writer makes them eloquently enough.

Another argument which caught my attention when studying Peter Camenzind was the idea that observing and associating with individuals is often more instructive and stimulating than an "abstract" examination of humanity as a whole. An example of this is the main character's relationship with the disabled man Boppi, a friendship which is documented most lovingly and touchingly. To be of genuine utility and value, do these relationships need to go beyond the superficial level?

In emphasizing such a "grass roots" method of studying people, Hesse may have been effecting another subtle dig at academia and scholarship, who knows? This introduces us to a field which he would return to, in various forms, later in his career.

Hesse appears to be arguing in his accounts of Camenzind's friendships that we need to value our relationships, learn from them, see them as a two-way process, and harness them to improve and enrich ourselves and the world around us. It is never too late to soak up life's beauty and warmth, and never too late to attain a semblance of realization, and we should not necessarily fear death.

I have always been somewhat sceptical of the oft-asserted suggestion that travel "broadens the mind".  Perhaps what it does accomplish is to help us to get closer to a clue to our true selves, and put other areas of our existence into a clearer perspective. Introduced to different people and backdrops, we may see things which we previously shunned or decried in a new light. This was another of my take-aways from the Camenzind wanderings.

I find it refreshing and interesting that the story does not have a "natural" or definitive ending, as is regularly the case with similar novels, even those of Hermann Hesse. Many of Peter's plans and ambitions remain unclear and unfulfilled, but his experiences and the things which he has learned and achieved together form part of his identity and his personality, and are the resources on which he will draw as his life moves on.

I would say that Peter Camenzind is one of Hermann Hesse's most concise, rewarding and enchanting works. With its broad but important range of questions it might serve as a useful introduction to the thought-world and style of this remarkable writer.

Narcissus and Goldmund, by Hermann Hesse - revisited....

 It had been some little time since I had read one of the novels of Hermann Hesse. This would seem strange and even curious, as Hesse remains possibly my favourite writer, a writer whose works were a great source of inspiration and comfort during some troubled and uncertain times in my life. Anyway, other matters, and other books, took hold of my attention and curiosity, although I never forgot the stories of Hermann Hesse, and the way in which they had offered me direction and even new ways of looking at the world and the challenges of life.

In returning to the Hesse canon, I chose first to revisit 'Narcissus and Goldmund'. I recalled the strong and vivid effect which it had on me some years ago, even if the minutiae of the plot and the characters would take time to drift back into my consciousness.

Another thought occurred to me as I retrieved the book from the shelf - I expected it to be a stimulating and beneficial read, but I equally wondered whether my interpretation of, and reaction to, it would be the same as before. I have "moved on" in a philosophical sense, since the period when Hesse's works first came to my close attention (and to my assistance).

Basically, the story centres on the relationship between the two titular characters. Narcissus is a scholarly resident at a monastery, now a teacher and set to ascend the ranks and the hierarchy of the institution. The younger Goldmund arrives as a new student/pupil, and the two eventually establish a friendship. The perceptive Narcissus sees that it is not in his young friend's true nature to live a life of secluded scholarship and study; he is an artist. Without giving too much away, Goldmund subsequently takes his leave of the monastery and embarks on years of adventuring and experiences "on the road".

Apart from the author's perpetual concerns regarding self-discovery and spirituality, a more distinct strand of study emerged, namely that of people's awareness of their true nature and the means by which they uncover their true "calling". In this instance Goldmund had the shrewd and visionary Narcissus to perform this function, but it occurs to me that most of us are thwarted in this regard, our potential and true happiness suppressed or blocked by other people, by social structures and even by ourselves, consciously or otherwise. The question, of course, of whether we each have a "destiny" is a whole subject on its own...

Must of us have no figure such as Narcissus, to help us to see what our potentially most rewarding and satisfying future course is. Our true talents and gifts remain undiscovered or at least under-utilized, the secret remaining unlocked.

Humanity has progressed in many respects over the centuries, but this may remain one of the areas where we continue to let ourselves down. One has to ask if modern economic pressures and imperatives are among the factors hampering an improvement.

Going back to the novel, I was once again left animated and enthused by Hesse's simple yet poetic and absorbing language. However, there was something else this time around. I was more attuned to the writer's implied, and even sometimes explicit, criticisms and judgements, especially concerning some aspects of scholasticism and monasticism, and the rigidity of the institutions which uphold and oversee them. Being Hermann Hesse he makes the points in a subtle, gentle and constructive manner. Before I was less sensitive to such charges being levelled by the great man, and this change I expect reflects changes in me over the intervening years.

I suspect that most people who read "Narcissus and Goldmund" find themselves, at some juncture, engaging in a touch of soul-searching, and wondering whether they themselves are closer in character and inclination to Narcissus, or to Goldmund. I was not immune to this process, but my assessments were clouded with caveats, doubts and qualifications.

On reflection, I am probably more a "thinker" than an "artist", but I arrived at this thought via a circuitous route. As I turned the age of thirty, I entered a period which could be best described as ebullient, although unlike Goldmund I did not become a wayfarer. The preceding years had been ones of restraint and reticence, although without the erudition and commitment to study of Narcissus. 

The "outgoing" years, when I look back, were more a case of circumstance and a reaction to the "quiet" years, which were really characterised by passivity on my part, rather than any conscious programme of scholarship or learning. When the spell of relative excess was brought to an end, I realized that my true calling was to be a person of study, contemplation and words. So my true finding of myself occurred later in life than happened with Goldmund, and I was not fortunate enough to have a sounding-board or mentor such as the learned Narcissus. This kind of thing can happen to people, but not as dramatically as in literature, and at different stages and under different guises. In my case I wouldn't describe it as trial and error, but it needed several sea-changes in my life before the clearer picture started to fully emerge.

It is easy to see why, with his examples, his vision and the clarity and appeal of his ideas, Hermann Hesse has been cited as an inspiration for those undertaking the journey of life and of self-discovery. He opens people's eyes to their potential, and their humanity, partly through his evoking of the scope for authenticity and beauty in life and the world. He helps to peel away layers of inertia, apathy and lethargy.

The novels and other writings of Hesse are a deep well of philosophical nourishment from which I draw from time to time, and the works seldom fail to energize and galvanize me.

Running alongside the story of Goldmund's wanderings is the philosophical, and ultimately practical, challenge posed by this tension between the artist and the thinker, the senses and the spirit, the flesh and the mind. Can they be reconciled, made not to complement each other but to act in true union to lead us to fulfilment and realization?  It is a tantalizing prospect, and even if there is substance in the notion it is likely that only a very small fraction of us will attain such a union in a meaningful way.

The chronicling of Goldmund's wanderings, his experiences in forests and with assorted inhabitants of the lands which he passed through, is essayed in a charming yet plausible way, with an eye for detail, shade and colour. More than with most authors, I find my brain and my imagination composing imagery to accompany Hesse's words as they are processed. The cares of the world tend to evaporate, at least temporarily, and I am transported to another world, but a world made very believable, very human.

I would be inclined to assert that "Narcissus and Goldmund" is not one of Hesse's most heavily "philosophical" novels, despite the subject matter which is covered within it. It might be more accurate to declare that the philosophy is less immediately "heavy", onerous and portentous than with some of his other output. To a degree, of course, all novels are "philosophical", but this one is bathed in a very beautiful salve.

An intriguing dimension of the Hermann Hesse universe is the naturalness of the settings. In this instance we are presented with a largely pre-industrial world. Of course the pastoral "idyll" is blemished by difficulties, vices and evils, although they appear at first unlike those which abound in our twenty-first century society. The backdrop is a pleasant enough vehicle, but at times we are reminded of the pernicious realities of those bygone times. It is quite easy to miss these sub-texts when caught up in Hesse's enchanting and fluid prose. It may be that he was wanting to draw some attention to the less enlightened patterns of life in the medieval ages without distracting us unduly from the central direction of the narrative.

There are some passages in this novel which examine the nature of art and artists, and I can see why such discussions may serve as a turn-off to some. However, these sections greatly impressed and intrigued me, especially those which addressed questions of impermanence and the fear of death. 

A message which I drew from the story is that of our goals. Our goals may be vague, but the progress and the journey are more important and valuable than the precise objective itself. The objective, if even partly realised, cannot be "the end", but a new beginning, a prompting to embark on a quest for fresh horizons. So it appears to have been with Goldmund.

The artist/thinker dynamic is enticing but, particularly later in the book, Hesse brings the bourgeois/"bohemian" paradigm to the party. This has exercised my thoughts for some years now, more specifically the constraints and "responsibilities" imposed on individuality by modern economic and cultural pressures. Perhaps it was easier to practically escape bourgeois existence (in its various guises and forms) during the times when the novel is set, even the times when Hesse himself was composing his works. Modern societal norms seemingly make it more difficult to pursue a life parallel to the mainstream. For most of those feeling emasculated or ill-at-ease, maybe the most realistic option is to engage as little as possible with "the system", and strive where possible to achieve some kind of realization and insight. Idealism sometimes has to give way to a measure of pragmatism.

In keeping with his favoured themes, Hesse postulates the notion of cycles and the idea that everything passes, with life characterised by renewal and rebirth. Another central theme is that of the "maternal", the mother figure, and the feminine and masculine conscious and unconscious minds. 

However, the one topic from "Narcissus and Goldmund" which stuck most indelibly in my psyche was this idea of unburdening oneself of experiences, emotions, triumphs and traumas by creating something tangible rather than ephemeral, before venturing on to a new challenge. This process almost sounds like a form of catharsis, and it should ideally be conducted in a non-vicarious way, but I was left asking myself whether it matters what form the "document" should take. Can those who are not blessed with artistic gifts or training benefit from such a "project", provided that it reconciles the two "opposites"?

I viewed the tale, and the subjects tackled, through more of a humanist framework on this occasion, because of my burgeoning interest in humanism and ideas of human flourishing. As with many novels of this kind, however, excessive latching on to one philosophical strand or message can mar or obscure one's overall enjoyment of the art.

"Narcissus and Goldmund" is to my mind one of Hesse's most affecting and finely rounded works, one with the depth and scope to spur the reader into greater contemplation and reflection.

 

Virgin Golf Record File - Alun Evans

 I always find it interesting and thought-provoking to read those books, residing on my shelves but somewhat forgotten and neglected, which were published some years ago.

Recently I dusted off a book called the "Virgin Golf Record File", by Alun Evans. It, or at the least the edition in my possession, was published in the year 2000.

The book contains some nice and informative histories of the various Major championships, tracing and highlighting the waxing and waning of the fortunes and prestige of those championships, and the swings in dominance between American, European and Southern hemisphere players. I really enjoyed the author's examination of some of the cultural and socio-economic factors which influenced the development and growth of these great events. The articles also serve as a history of "competitive" golf in general going back to the middle of the nineteenth century.

As a bit of a sports and statistics nerd myself, I love books such as this one, records and stats being mixed with some textual chronicling and context.

It is interesting that this edition was composed just as the Tiger Woods era was beginning, ushering in changes to the men's game which are still being felt today. 

Another observation is that there is a good deal less about women's golf than there certainly would be in a similar publication today.

It is also instructive to flick through the pages at a time when the men's professional game is garnering more mainstream publicity than for some time, largely because of the "organisational" divisions which have arisen. Parts of the book remind us that down the decades, pro golf was sometimes tranquil and stable, at other stages not so much.

Looking at the statistics sections, one striking trend which stands out is the phenomenal consistency of Jack Nicklaus, notably in the major championships. This was quite a feat, as he was competing at a time when the game was growing more and more global, and increasingly competitive. Nicklaus could easily have won, say, 50% more majors, and put some of his records out of sight. He endured as a force at the top level whilst the careers of others briefly soared and then faded away.  After his rivalries with Arnold Palmer and Gary Player, he then vied with the likes of Trevino, Jacklin, Watson and Ballesteros, and was still a player to be reckoned with even as the likes of Norman, Faldo et al began to take over the reins.

A good little book, all in all.

John Wesley Harding - Bob Dylan

An album which has recently reintroduced itself to my orbit is John Wesley Harding, by Bob Dylan.

My perspective on this record has tended to oscillate between two points. The first, which held sway for many years and was admittedly based on insufficient and superficial listening, was that it was a slight and bland work whose reputation and myth were out of proportion to its real artistic weight. The alternative view was that the first appraisal was harsh and my earlier assessment of the album as "lightweight" had militated against any more nuanced or thorough examination of its merits. I can report that after a more rigorous inquiry the strengths and charms of John Wesley Harding are no longer obscured from my view.

The songs, by and large, have a stripped down and austere flavour, with pared-down instrumentation. Story-telling is to the fore. If the stories themselves are sometimes enigmatic and mysterious, the language employed is generally more straightforward and less oblique than that which characterized Dylan's classic mid-60s releases.

In some ways the material is similar in tone and character to that from the "Basement Tapes" sessions, if less ebullient in its execution and production. Despite the more direct and literal mode of song-writing, there is still sufficient poetic acuity and wit to leave many of the songs open to interpretation, enveloped in an almost sepia-tinted haze.

The title track sets the pattern. In a sense, John Wesley Harding is one of the precursors to the emergent trends of "country rock" and the "retreat" to a more rootsy and authentic fashion of composition and performance. As always, although nominally part of a wider musical movement or scene, Dylan puts his own signature and stamp on things.

Looking at the lyrics and the delivery here, I get a strong sense that Bob was deriving great satisfaction and fascination from the process of putting together these tunes and stories, with their themes, spiritual and rustic. No longer under pressure to be the hipster or the troubadour for a generation, he could immerse himself in the simple joys of song-writing and poetry. 'As I Went Out One Morning' and 'I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine' are examples of these factors playing out in practice.

As for 'All Along the Watchtower', well Bob's version of the song has understandably been overshadowed by Jimi Hendrix's monumental and apocalyptic rendering, but the original presented here has its own quieter drama and charm, with the lyrics unencumbered by production excesses.

Some of the material on the record even arguably harks back to Dylan's very early albums, with their simplicity and more basic brand of expression and narrative - 'The Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest', for instance.

There are references to 'Dustbowl' injustices and concerns, although presented in a restrained and even ambiguous way. The characters in the songs are often outsiders or outcasts, oppressed by societal pressures and prejudices. The tenor and structure of these compositions could well be illustrative of Dylan's literary inclinations and tastes.

It has become customary to refer to albums possessing "hidden gems". It could almost be said that the majority of the tracks on John Wesley Harding are hidden gems, but 'Drifter's Escape' and 'Dear Landlord' certainly stand out in this respect. This all rather serves to dispel any notion that the album lacks substance or depth. In its own way it is fuller and more thought-provoking than LPs which have garnered lavish praise. It packs a lot of content and expressiveness into a comparatively short running-time, with numerous murky corners, tangents and detours to explore and savour.

Perhaps as a listening experience the record packs less of an outright punch, and elicits less exhilaration, than other Dylan efforts, and one's enjoyment or appreciation of it might well depend on individual preference. attention span, patience and mood at any given moment.

An aspect of the album which intrigues me is the subject matter of the lyrics, and their approach to social and cultural issues. Dylan to me seems to be consciously delving into such territory, finding its possibilities and its themes stimulating and interesting, perhaps hoping that they would provoke corresponding levels of contemplation and reflection among listeners.

The religious imagery, often subsumed within other topics, is a feature, and despite its restraint it helps to equip this record with its distinctive hue and flavour. As with other singer-songwriters over the years, the religious themes may occasionally be intended as metaphors or symbolism for other matters.

I would contend that John Wesley Harding is a worthy contender to be held up with some of Bob Dylan's most important work. The songs are intelligent and interesting, and should encourage thought and imagination. Another thing to its credit is that this collection of songs is unpretentious, and it will be a rewarding process for those who persevere with it. The record incorporates subjects and musical elements which both hark back to his early output and also anticipate some of his later concerns and excursions. So disregard any notion of "blandness", and lose yourself in this album's crevasses and recesses.