Friday, 27 December 2013

The Sor­rows of Young Werther by J.W. von Goethe

What sort of crea­ture must he be who merely liked Char­lotte, whose whole heart and senses were not en­tirely ab­sorbed by her”

This reminds me of the kind of sentimental bosh one writes in one’s diary as a seventeen year old. Always madly in love with people who don’t feel the same way, consistently sprouting superlatives and emotions turned up to eleven.

Did I enjoy this, no not really. I feel happy that I’ve crossed off yet another 1001 book from the list, but that is just about it.

Werther is a whiny wimp that really does not appeal to my sensibilities. Perhaps it lost something in translation – who can say? Ultimately, it is a particularly  short book and in my opinion- that’s a blessing.

 2 out of 5 courtly love traditions leave one cold.

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