Between the Pages of Letters to A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke II
(Rainer Maria Rilke. Letters to a Young Poet. Trans. Stephen Mitchell. NY: Modern Library, 2001, p.17).
For the second commentary on Rilke’s Letters, (you may read the first here) I choose the above quote for its depth and subtlety. On one level this quote does not seem to say much except to give favorable remarks on two books––Six Stories and Niels Lyhne––by Jens Peter Jacobsen. But there are some few questions here: why would Rilke recommend these books to Kappus––the young poet to whom he addresses––and why does he think these books would provide for the reader the experience he describes? These questions petition a little more attention for the above quote. In their examination it is apparent that Rilke has found within the pages of these books that which he hopes Kappus would also come to know. The quote also offers that within the worlds of these writings are tools that were essential to Rilke; that these tools were still useful to him and are things he consider enriching to his “experiences, disappointments, and joys.” The wallpaper behind the frame of this quote is the quite suggestion that the treasures Rilke found in these works may not be the same that Kappus would discover or need to discover––unless they are of similar minds and needs. The allure of the quote is its instigation of what happens when one finds a book one can love. The suggestion is, the book that one ought to love is that which does not only teach one of new worlds, but decodes the world that is one, so that even after one vacates its pages, the lessons learnt remains an important guide for one. The stress, however, is the necessity to love the work. Perhaps it is because in loving the work, one is essentially loving oneself. Hence, although Rilke recommend these particular books by Jacobsen as the best sort of books for a reader to love, it does not necessarily mean they are the books that Kappus, or any other reader of Letters, needs to love, but rather that there exist works that would require loving, and within the loving of these works lies one's redemption.
That “a whole world” looking to embrace one in “happiness,” “abundance,” and “inconceivable vastness” exists in words may sound a touch bizarre, or quite wondrous, and perhaps dramatically exaggerated. And yet the Bible insists the world became through words. And if you do not buy the Bible’s narration, then all you need do is take another look at these letters: I am reaching out to you in your world, from my world by words. Thus we can safely say words bridge worlds. In fact so much of what surround us are the products of words. The concrete forms which ideas take are often built into place by words. From this point of view, the concept that in loving words, one stitches into “the whole fabric of [one’s] becoming” significant “threads” that reward one “thousands upon thousands of times” a return of the invested love is merely a rewording of daily encountering of self. And yet finding this advice a dramatic exaggeration is not at all odd; seeing as Rilke is referring to that which, so familiar, retracts the ability to be easily identified and appreciated. Because that which is right under one’s nose can be difficult to detect. In spelling out in words the familiarly-unknown, it takes a form that imagination can dissolve in ways that can aid its conscious discovery of truths that are already known subconsciously. This then is perhaps what Rilke is saying to Kappus, that the scope of a good book is that which reveal our own worlds to us, translating our own truths––which too attached to us, we fail to know properly––in ways we can take notice of and learn to sieve in love. Thus teaching one what one needs to proceed through “whatever your life may become.”But most importantly, it reflects the world that we are, through love, thus helping us learn to love that which we are.
Lastly, a little on the jolting phrase, “live for a while in these books.” This, like many of what Rilke says, is a simple way of suggesting a lot. For is not by living that one learns? And does not living require every fiber of one’s being? And does not living arrests one’s intellect and demand decisions of one? And thus by living “for a while in these books” one may say that Rilke means experiencing the world of words. That by this means of experiencing the world of words one can dig out what is buried and give it that essential closer examination; it is the way in which one finds love for the familiarly-unknown. And it is that which is necessary to develop a way of seeing and feeling and communicating in ways that are at once a secret language of self, and something of a common language between those who inhabit, attentively, the worlds of words.
Obviously it is quite necessary for the aspiring writer, whose craft is the creation of worlds with words, to learn to find her own home within its sphere. But what the quote seems to really hammer at is the necessity to not only make these discoveries and live them through one’s imagination by the guiding hands of another’s imagination, but an assurance that the world that one is, touches other worlds, and the world that one is, is a world that others would gladly like to visit, and some would need to visit, to “live,” to “learn from,” and to make connections with; all for the sake of love.