I hear that most great writers and thinkers wrote letters and or correspondence that are studied to date. I have had a chance to revisit one of these, Rainer Maria Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet. This man was considered one of the greatest 20th Century poets, with a German descent. In reading Letters to a young Poet, I am inclined to agree to his genius.These letters, seemingly written over a considerable stretch of time, were addressed to Frankz Kappus, then a student. In his young, dreamy life, (like the rest of us who are inclined to literature,) Kappus wanted some higher mind to give his opinions on what he should do concerning his literary dreams. Turned out he received ten letters from Rilke. Later on, he compiled them to what has been read and admired to date.One of the big problems of young writers (poor literary creatures like me) is to wish for some positive nod from those we consider more informed, more achieved. We crave to hear that one word that says “you are good,” even though on the surface what we ask for is to be criticized. In my experience, that can be disastrous. And I agree with Rilke’s assertion: “Nothing touches a work of art so little as words of criticism: they always result in more or less fortunate misunderstandings.” In the first letter, we see that Rilke did read and say a little of Kappus’ poems. But he predominantly insists that no one can help him, and he must just go into himself, and find his truest depth and reason for this literary inclination. “And if out of, this turning within, out of this immersion in your own world, poems come, then you will not think of asking anyone whether they are good or not.” Well, that’s something for all of us who want to be literary; a need for that fine balance between being teachable and arrogance in our own ability to make art out of heart and experience but not some classroom instruction.Maybe I should say I feel it’s quite OK to listen to those who have gone ahead, but not peg our entire lives on it. After all Rilke clearly tells us; "a work of art is good if it has arisen out of necessity." Not out of some desire to please.After the first, February 17, 1903 dated letter from Paris, the second arrives from Verragio in Italy on April 5, 1903 in which Rilke confesses about the difficult of writing (more because he was sick at this time). For different reasons, we all find writing a little difficult, despite being enjoyable to a point of ecstasy when we are at the heart of it. But in this second letter Rilke warns against the indulgent use or irony, even though it still can be used to make one’s work of art great. The letter also emphasis upon the need for reading and making a treasure of great books: he asks that young men “ought to live for a while in books,” since the result of such efforts will be returned a thousand fold.Who in the world can refute the wisdom of reading, especially some of the timeless books that have survived through time to still be in our reach? They make us what we become.Still from Viareggio in 1903, the third letter arrives, in which Rilke briefly revisits the need of reading and rereading. Now there is that joy in doing so, and Rilke asks that this must be a part of our growth process as some books remain alive in our mental interaction during each read. They reward us through a transformation of attitude towards life and our thought process. There is a feeling that Rilke wants works of art read actively, and literary criticism avoided where possible. A particular risk for the young is a lack of patience, and Rilke insists that we must allow ourselves to ripen. Being a writer means you write and wait, you rewrite and wait, now if you are impatient you will not write a third time and wait, or a tenth time and wait again after twelve years of desiring to make it big. Patience, Rilke says, is everything to this business. Just like it is in life.It’s rather disheartening to see that Rilke could barely afford his own books, but I guess that this is condition of most writers until they make it, if at all; they ever make it to be commercially successful.The fourth, perhaps one of the longest letters, speaks of the difficult things in life. Rilke says that we must embrace what is difficult. I find the first part of the letter, speaking about sex, the sexes and the creative output, one of the lesser accessible portions of the collection of letters. However, it builds on to speak about solitude, and suddenly illuminates a deep and troubling truth. To be solitary and focus on one’s inner growth is necessary. But of course, we are the Y generation, and to be alone is particularly not our cup of tea. Even when we seat alone in a room, we are in commune with everyone, from everywhere, via FB, Twitter, etc. But should it happen that one allows an inner growth then they also must learn to balance it in their social context, careful not to ‘suffocate’ those around them with their renewed awareness of their essential selves.The fifth Letter is written from Rome, that ancient city of wonders and myth which Rilke ironically found “empty, the hot, the notoriously feverish.” But still the man has that eye for everything beautiful. “Waters infinitely full of life move along the ancient aqueducts into the great city and dance in the many city squares over white basins of stone and spread out in large, spacious pools and murmur by day and lift up their murmuring to the night, which is vast here and starry and soft with winds.” This is a pretty short letter, promising more later on, but in itself remains dominated by Rilke’s admiration of Rome’s artistic elements in which one may “recognize the very few Things in which something eternal endures.” Perhaps it’s a lesson for us to be more aware of our natural environment.The sixth letter arrives at a time when Christmas is here and everyone is in a joyous mood of celebration, and in it Rilke reminds this young man that he must by all means attain that vast, inner solitude. Kappus has at this time become an officer, and Rilke reminds him of the demanding nature of all careers, and the mental anguish that most must suffer of it. Doubts may arise, even about God. Fundamental questions are also asked concerning religion and one’s attitude towards faith. Nothing can be certain, but Rilke is appealing to the young man to adopt the attitude of a child, and embrace the reality that God is, has been and will always be.The next letter would make you suspect that Rilke was a wry procrastinator. Here he is again, apologizing for a delayed response. But he does good to have read and taken pleasure in the young man’s sonnet, even copied it out. My sentimental self would say this is my favorite letter; it speaks of love, and young people like me want to hear about love, want to love, and even possibly be loved. But Rilke writes that love, being the ultimate good, is not that little fake feelings of good, it is a serious, even difficult thing. Love can, and must be, learned. The truth of Rilke’s assertions cannot be taken lightly, especially in this age of one night stands and overnight declarations of love among the Millennials. We want to be given, while we ourselves have nothing to give, having taken no time to build that inner essence. What would have Rilke thought of me going out to a club to meet a girl who becomes my lover the same night? – that shameless merging! The truth of this letter is so deep it could almost put me to shame. But then he points out that though there are those important considerations to be made, not one general rule has been cast upon stone to be followed. This letter is near biblical, but I wonder whether it is possible to achieve such depth in this age and time.The eighth letter, send from Fladie in Sweden has Rilke expressing his hope that Kappus has learned something so far, and that perhaps something has been transformed within him. It addresses the theme of sadness. Though we have the right to our sadness, Kappus warns against making it all public, which is what many people seem to like. Life is what it is, and Rilke says that even from our own hurt, it must still be possible for us to draw some strength. “Don't observe yourself too closely. Don't be too quick to draw conclusions from what happens to you; simply let it happen.” And for the artists, he points out that it is out of this confusion and trouble that arises the words with which true power of words come. If we inhibit the mind from undergoing such suffering, then perhaps we have no business in making art, finding words, after all Aldous Haxley also says:“I know quite well that one needs ridiculous, mad situations like that; one cannot really write well about anything else. Why was that old fellow (Shakespeare) such a marvelous propaganda technician? - Because he had so many insane, excruciating things to write about. You’ve got to be hurt and upset, otherwise you can’t think of the really god, penetrating, and X-rayish phrases.”There is a particular humane notion in the ninth letter, with Rilke, despite the tiredness, still writing his words to Kappus and confessing of his frequent thoughts about the boy. He further emphasis on both faith and endurance which are necessary prerequisites for confidence that is needed to fight off doubt. Rilke notes that one can turn doubt into a weapon, by asking it questions. The final letter concludes with Rilke happy that Kappus has found peace in his choice for a career. Rilke’s descriptions of the empty hills seemed to me particularly sensual; a testimony to his powerful usage of his words.Thank you friend, for reading thus far; it’s probably the longest review I have ever written, about one the shortest books I have ever read. But then, it’s funny, some books that are a thousand pages long may never contain half what I have learned in these few pages.Go on, read it.
Good advice is so hard to take. Why do we even ask advice? Certainly inside ourselves we have thoroughly gone over our options, have dissected the possibilities. Inside our active minds is an infinite simulacrum of the future, testing our fortunes, planning every move. When we ask advice, we really only look for confirmation in our choice, to ask for advice is to ask for validation, to ask for the invitation to do what we were already going to do. In Rilke's letters to a young poet (the unfortunately named Mr. Krappus), he offers sage advice on a number of topics: writing, sex, love, life. It would seem that Mr. Krappus' main affliction is his burden of solitude, of loneliness. I am well acquainted with the feeling of being alone, but I have grown to accept that it is largely a self-affliction. We are both our strongest, most able heroes, and also our most cunning enemies, villains. We have an incredible power over our own lives, a power which we rarely use to its fullest extent, a power which we overlook or misuse against ourselves, a power which bears down on us with its greatness, which scares us, which we allow to defeat ourselves.I am not one to refer often to "inspirational quotes" - or quotes in general. I will (I hope) never have some quotation inked into my skin, some platitude, something which is universal (my body - my skin - being so personal, I don't want to share it with the world). But I return often to the words of Henry James when I consider the struggle of life: Life is, in fact, a battle. Evil is insolent and strong; beauty enchanting, but rare; goodness very apt to be weak; folly very apt to be defiant; wickedness to carry the day; imbeciles to be in great places, people of sense in small, and mankind generally unhappy. But the world as it stands is no narrow illusion, no phantasm, no evil dream of the night; we wake up to it, forever and ever; and we can neither forget it nor deny it nor dispense with it.Henry James, though perhaps a bit of a cynic, has in mind of the world many of the same ideas that Rilke does, which is to say that the world, that life, happens, and will never cease to do so. Life is often difficult, life is often teeming with frustrations and failures, but life is precisely life, it would be death to wish for something else. Rilke often encourages Mr. Krappus to "let life happen" - to take his solitude, his loneliness, his joys and wonders, all the same, but not to force the key. Life happens, love happens, and you must earn both by the struggle of self-discovery, and to discover oneself, you must not hem yourself into the narrow corner of what is safe, what is expected, what you can handle, you must let life carry you away. I am always reminded in January, because I am laden, really, with horrible cliches about the new year (I am a fool for new, shiny things, for new starts and second chances), that life is not about what you do, but about how you do it. "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes." I return always to Proust, and look always inward on myself to examine what eyes I turn on the world. Perspective is everything, and we learn always in literature as in life, that there are no heroes, no villains, ("for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so"), all is a matter of perspective. The world is an ambiguous place, and people an ambiguous race, all is clouded over with unknowing. And the unknown is what terrifies us most in the world. Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.Rilke notices that what is unknown, what seems to us difficult or impossible, is often a potential source of strength, of life, of infinite pleasure and spiritual nourishment. We must ever take risks, conquer dragons, make impossible leaps, if we wish to find fulfillment in our lives. If there is something you feel you must do, that you will die if you do not do it, then let nothing stand in your way, let no dragons, not phantasms, not fools or distractions stay you. That is how one should live, it is a shame not to.I am not one for New Year's Resolutions (except maybe to eat healthier), but this year I want to make a real effort to ride life like the tide, up and down, and take my solitude as I take my pleasures, to learn to live and learn to love, to learn when to accept and when to fight, but always to act with conscience, and to strive always to be more myself. Whether I am active or passive in pursuing what I want, it is my actions which determines the course of my life, it is my history of wins and losses which predict my victories and defeats, and I must not let the world decide that fate for me, but know it when my potential is boiling inside me. The future stands still... but we move in infinite space.
What do You think about Letters To A Young Poet (2002)?
Se há livros que falam conosco, este é um deles. É proibido lê-lo depressa. Deve ser apreciado e saboreado lentamente, fazê-lo durar como se de uma iguaria se tratasse. Deviamos lê-lo cedo, quando ainda andamos a arrepiar caminho na procura de um sentido para a vida (não que alguma vez o deixemos de procurar), antes que seja a própria vida a ensinar-nos da pior maneira.À falta de um poeta que nos escreva melodiosas cartas, fiquemos então com este pequeno livro por perto, façamos de conta que foi escrito para nós, e peguemos nele amiúde, pois é do melhor e do pior da vida que ele fala e dá lições preciosas.
—Carmo Santos
‘Go into yourself and see how deep the place is from which your life flows.’Rainer Maria Rilke puts forth the question ‘must I write?’ in these letters from the great poet to the unknown Mr. Kappus. ‘Dig into yourself for a deep answer,’ he tells the young poet, ‘and if this answer rights out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple “I must”, then build your life in accordance with this necessity.’ Letters To A Young Poet, written between 1903-08, contains some of the most passionately moving words of encouragement and examination into the life of an artist. Rilke advises that ‘a work of art is good if it has risen out of necessity’, that they must feel they ‘would have to die if you were forbidden to write.’ From there, he instructs towards the soul-searching life of solitude which best cultivates the artists gift. With powerful prose that often reaches the same sublime peaks found in his poetry, these magnanimous, heart-felt letters are some the most empowering words of wisdom into undertaking of the arts as well as an impressive portrait of Rilke himself.It is difficult to accurately explain the powers of transcendence contained in these letters. What is especially difficult is to do so in the realm of reviewing, a sort of critique that bastardizes the original message by having it be received tainted from my amateur perspective as it passes through me¹, as Rilke himself cautions against reading any sort of literary criticism, positive or negative in his very first letter.’Nothing touches a work of art so little as words of criticism: they always result in more or less fortunate misunderstandings. Things aren’t all so tangible and sayable as people would usually have us believe; most experience is unsayable, they happen in a space that no word has ever entered, and more unsayable than all other things are works of art, those mysterious existences, whose life endures beside our own small, transitory life.While, as Rilke point out, the ethereal joys brought about in me while reading this are ineffable, I would still like to take a few moments of your time to discuss how beautiful these letters are. It is a sort of minor-key beauty, spending much time navigating through the implications of solitude and painful soul-searching, yet it elevates the heart to such high levels and is sure to make anyone reach for a pen in order to try their own hand at poetry.‘We know little, but that we must trust in what is difficult is a certainty that will never abandon us,’ Rilke writes. Constantly he tries to impress upon the young poet that the road to greatness is a difficult, lonely path, and that any meandering towards what is easy is destined to lead to failure or mediocrity. ‘It is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be one more reason for us to do it.’ In the Bukowski poem How to be a Good Writer, he examines the life of those he considers great and asks : remember the old dogswho fought so well: Hemingway, Celine, Dostoevsky, Hamsun.If you think they didn't go crazyin tiny roomsjust like you're doing nowwithout womenwithout foodwithout hopethen you're not ready. This is merely a more blunt and coarse explanation of Rilke’s own sentiments. While it may seem a frightening truth, that we must always take the hard road, and that we must seek solitude in ourselves to mine the gold buried within us, that we may reach a point of near-madness, he presents it as such a beautiful gift, a place of inner turmoil that is bliss to the writer because it is how language is able to take root in our souls and grow. ’What is necessary, after all, is only this: solitude, vast inner solitude. To walk inside yourself and meet no one for hours – that is what you must be able to attain. To be solitary as you were when you were a child, when the grownups walked around involved with matters that seemed large and important because they looked so busy and because you didn’t understand a thing about what they were doing.’Rilke advises that childhood is one of the richest places to seek ourselves and our inspirations. Not only to call forth our dusty memories and let language polish and remold them into something remarkable, but to use a childlike ‘not-understanding’ to best examine the world. ‘Why should you want to give up a child’s wise not-understanding in exchange for defensiveness and scorn, since not-understanding is, after all, a way of being alone, whereas defensiveness and scorn are a participation in precisely what, by these means, you want to separate yourself from.What really stood out to me about Rilke was his utter humbleness. Rilke responds to Kappus as if Kappus were the most important person in the world, and he begins each letter with an honest apology for the delay in his responses. Rilke remains ever humble in his words, and though he offers brilliant, shining insights, suggestions and long investigations on a variety of topics beyond writing (God, love – especially his distaste for those who mistake lust for love and how it damages the artistic heart, Rome, paintings, etc.), he never asserts himself as anything but a man with no answers, only direction. He reminds Kappus ‘Don’t think the person who is trying to comfort you now lives untroubled among the simple and quiet words that sometimes give you pleasure. His life has much trouble and sadness…’. We all face our anxieties day by day, and even those we look up and even idolize were never able to reach perfection. We are all human, and Rilke manages to both send us reaching for the heavens while still remaining firmly grounded here on the Earth.This is a fantastic short collection for anyone with any interest in writing. It is one of the most beautifully empowering books I have ever read and reminds the reader of the mindset they must accept in order to let the arts flourish in the soil of their souls. Whatever the topic he discusses, it is wholly pleasant to be immersed in the flow of his writing - each word is a warm embrace. While the letters are intended for Mr. Kappus alone, and his side of the conversation is missing, the message is universal. From the man who wrote some of the finest poetry of the 20th century, this book should be read by everyone before they pick up a pen to write (the same goes for Sorrentino’s Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things, but that is a discussion for another time). I’m surprised this isn’t required reading in all freshman college literature courses. This is truly a gift of writing, it sustained a smile across by face the entire time.5/5'Just the wish that you may find in yourself enough patients to endure and enough simplicity to have faith; that you may gain more and more confidence in what is difficult and in your solitude among other people. And as for the rest, let life happen to you. Believe me: life is in the right, always.'¹ For more on the corruption of literature through any attempt at interpretation or criticism, I highly recommend reading Susan Sontag essay Against Interpretation (thank you to Mike for showing me this essay). Also, for further reading on the distortion of Rilke’s words, William H. Gass has his take on translating the great poet: Reading Rilke: Reflections on the Problems of Translation
—s.penkevich
I always underline in books, either for the wise quotes that teach or the pure beauty of the passage. About ten pages into this book, though, I gave up underlining as nearly every sentence was a combination of beauty and wisdom. These letters (to a young man he never even met!) are inspiring in their honesty, teaching to cherish your solitude, "to walk inside yourself and meet no one for hours... to be solitary as you were when you were a child, when the grownups walked around involved with matters that seemed large and important because they looked so busy and because you didn't understand a thing about what they were doing."A few gems:"Loving does not at first mean merging, surrendering, and uniting with another person (for what would a union be of two people who are unclarified, unfinished, and still incoherent--?), it is a high inducement for the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world, to become world in himself for the sake of another person; it is a great, demanding claim on him, something that chooses him and calls him to vast distances" (70)."The future stands still, dear Mr. Kappus, but we move in infinite space" (86)."We have no reason to harbor any mistrust against our world, for it is not against us. If it has terrors, they are our terrors; if it has abysses, these abysses belong to us; if there are dangers, we must try to love them. And if only we arrange our life in accordance with the principle which tells us that we must always trust in the difficult, when what now appears to us as the most alien will become our most intimate and trusted experience. How could we forget those ancient myths that stand at the beginning of all races, the myths about dragons that at the last moment are transofmred into princesses? Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love" (92).
—Michelle
