My heart bleeds black

KELSI'S NOTE: I did not attempt to censor myself in any way, spoiler-wise, while writing this review. So if you ever plan on reading The Sorrows of Young Werther (I advise against it) and want to be fully surprised by every plot twist, don't read this post.

I am just a reading machine lately! I recently finished The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, a book I only became interested in after seeing this comic. (Sadly, I have to thank Kate Beaton for most of the cultural influence in my life. Her comics either inform me of historical/political/literary events or prompt me to investigate them independently).

The Sorrows of Young Werther (published in 1774) is a short book about a passionate young artist named Werther. While staying in the countryside, Werther meets a lady named Charlotte and falls in love with her on first sight. However, she is already engaged to a suave older gentleman Albert (who I imagine has a mustache). Instead of doing what most normal people would do (wallow in self-pity for a while and then get over it), Werther mopes around the town, pathetically befriends Charlotte and Albert, writes 135 pages of emo poetry about how hard it is to be middle class (seriously), has to deal with a few more sucky things that he makes forty times worse by crying about them for two years, and then shoots himself with Albert's pistols (it's a metaphor).

This is what Werther would like look if he were living today. Luckily, he wouldn't be alive for long because he would soon kill himself when the local Hot Topic ran out of black nail polish.

Am I being harsh or simplistic? No, I am not. The whole book is a sob-fest about how much Werther hates his life, how much despair he feels when he is around Charlotte, how he can never possibly get over it and the only outlet is death. The entire time I was reading, all I could think was, "Emo poetry emo poetry emo poetryyyyyyyy." [In fact, I highlighted some especially dramatic passages from the story with the intention of sharing them on this blog, but for some reason my Kindle deleted them, and the thought of re-reading or even re-skimming the book makes me want to shoot myself for real (and not write three thousand sad poems about it beforehand).] Some of the philosophical insights found in the book were interesting, but they couldn't make up for the insufferable nature of the main character. It was a painful read and finishing it was a relief.

HOWEVER, while doing some post-reading research on the book, I came across an interesting fact: Goethe wrote this novel when he was 24 and loosely based it on some happenings in his own life; however, he later regretted penning the novel because of its immense success. And believe me, its success was immense (from Wikipedia):

The Sorrows of Young Werther was Goethe's first major success, turning him from an unknown into a celebrated author practically overnight ... It also started the phenomenon known as "Werther-Fieber" ("Werther Fever") which caused young men throughout Europe to dress in the clothing style described for Werther in the novel.

It reputedly also led to some of the first known examples of copycat suicide. The "Werther Fever" was watched with concern by the authorities and fellow authors.

Let's face it, if thousands of young sensitive German artist types were worshipping the literary character you created like he was the Messiah, you would be creeped out too. I imagine that Goethe suffered the type of regret that Stephanie Meyer would suffer from, if she had a conscience or a soul. It also annoyed him that, even in his later years, most folks only knew his name for Werther and not some of his other works, like Faust. So I can totally sympathize with Goethe and forgive him for his sin of bringing The Sorrows of Young Werther into the world, because it seems like he was truly penitent at the time of his death.

Plus, I don't exactly regret reading Sorrows, mostly because the payoff was nice when Werther finally shot himself and we learn that no one went to his funeral. Suck on that, you whiny German creep!

photo found here, thanks Google Images