Where to start? I’m not going to serialize my new novel We Are Like Fire, just like I didn’t serialize Renaissance Radio. I’ll share excerpts and turn some of the story components into pieces that are more like nonfiction. Let’s start with Friedrich Holderlin.
The German and American characters in my novel write and perform a play — in Denver, Chicago, New York, Berlin, and Frankfurt — about the German poet Holderlin, who lived from 1770 to 1843.
After Holderlin fell into permanent mental illness in 1807, some people said he was only pretending to be insane. Faking it. The reason was that he would come alive with total strength and confidence — and read with a voice that was passionate, piercing, and bold — each time he recited out loud from his novel of the late 1790s, Hyperion.
Working from multiple translations, I’ve given us a four-minute version of his novel, and we can imagine Friedrich Holderlin reading out loud to us from Hyperion:
I remember when a little boy stretched out his hand to grasp the moonlight. I remember when a little girl came out of the woods and offered us strawberries. I remember the boy who hummed happily to himself as he strolled about, lost in thought. I remember the girl who let a little song, a bit out of rhythm, slip from her lips. I remember the boy who shouted for joy and jumped up as far as his body would go.
Ah, the heavenly peace of childhood. As lads and lasses, we sat on the laps of our guardians, chattering to them in our exuberance. Tender and trusting, we sunk into their embraces. We were calmed by their affection. We delighted when their eyes and smiles blessed us with their joy. With each gracious word from their valiant hearts, they imparted to us their noble strength. And we became the favored darlings of Heaven.
Those were special days, when our hearts first tested their wings. We stood in this glorious world, bursting with swift and fiery growth, and we stretched out our arms and hands toward the infinite sky.
As our adulthood commenced, we searched after Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. We cast off what our century gave us. We broke through our confinement. We threw off our slave garments. We sensed infinity in our chests. And we walked into the realm of pure freedom.
The world shone fresh and splendid and bright, and so did we. We did not avert our eyes from the lightning. We held it in our hands.
We sought the highest and the best. In the depths of knowledge. In the turmoil of action. In the mists of the past. In the labyrinth of the future. In the memories of consecrated graves. And high above the stars. Do you know Its name? The name of that which is One and All? Its name is Beauty.
We were not content with the dry bread of the mere reasoning of our intellects. We feasted on eternal and infinite Divine Beauty – and let It overflow into our lives. Our beings opened up to a wondrous harmonious Power, something indomitable that, whenever It stirred in us, sent sweet shudders through our bones.
Each of us lived only in the fundamental and eternal tones of our being. We dared to accomplish what the Spirit bid and commanded us. And out of the muddy seas of the world, genius was roused and then flourished.
We loved our heroes. Our spirits pressed on, boldly, into the fullness of life that surrounds us. Happy in our boundless future, we strolled among glorious projects and went forth invincible. We robbed chance of its strength. We mastered our destiny. Through a thousand blooming shrubs, our paths stretched onward. Like athletes in triumph at the Olympiad, we seized the prize.
O how we knew the joys of kinship and love! To be one with all who live! – that is the life of Divinity, that is Heaven for human beings. As companions, our souls lived beautifully together. From genuine affection, we performed for each other many small labors of love. Singing a thousand inseparable tones, we formed a chorus, blissfully united, and each of us faithfully echoed the enchanting chords.
And now we are at the evening of our days. We have grown beyond the midpoint of life. But as we outlive youth, we choose to remember that the cold sword is forged from hot metal.
We gather now around the hearth. We tell each other how we fared in our lives. Our hearts still beat within our chests and, in the deepest recesses of our beings, a profound feeling of life still permeates us.
The names of our heroic brothers and sisters are etched into the heavens. They remain with us, living and true, in their courage and their love.
We have guarded and preserved the sacred flame. It is when we cast it into the fire that gold attains the color of the sun. Only in the hours of enthusiasm is everything in most intimate accord. And genius is no longer a secret.
See! The blindfold falls from our eyes. The soul of the world surrounds us. Let us love beauty, let us honor wisdom, let our hearts be reverent and loving, and let our enthusiasm give birth to heroes.
My friend, do you suffer? Are you now in pain? In our suffering and pain, let us feel our souls’ freedom more than ever, and step up and stand higher.
As the days of life draw down, celestial lights attract us. And each of us finds our way along the paths that lead us home.
Youth, youth, oh living youth, new life abounds from you! As you grow towards the blessings of the Sunlight, a new future brightens before you. Ancient wisdom will return as you become the educators of our people. We your elders now gather to renew ourselves at your wellsprings. We long for something good and true, and we hope to find it again in you.
People of every age, in every moment we seek the end of our cramped and narrow confinement. We are like dry coal, lying dormant. But when the Divine Flame bursts upon us, the heat within us is set free. The Flame flies above the coal and its ashes, victorious. We too will be victorious. Our unshackled spirits, with our servitude and our sorrows forgotten, will return in triumph to the halls of the shining Sun. We are like fire! We are like fire!
Hello, I bought your novel. It's in the queue now.