A Novel, a Poem or a Diary? — A Review of ‘The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge’

“The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge” is a timeless piece of art, an existentialist’s must-read, and a tedious task to plough through. It forces the reader to reflect on love and loneliness, on existence and emotions, on life and death. As typical for Rilke, things become actors, actors are absent, and the absent are acting. The constricts of time and space are disassembled by a story that jumps freely between distant memory, close observation and historical imagination. It’s all tied together by a style of writing that frequently makes you stumble and question both your and the writer’s sanity.

If that description was unclear, a little annoying, but also a tiny bit intriguing, then you should read the “The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge” by Rainer Maria Rilke. This review of “The Notebooks” will try to tie some of these details up a little, and help you decide whether you want to read the book.

Comparing Rilke’s writing to another’s style would do everybody an injustice, but if you want a comparison, think of a blend of Kafka’s “The Trial” and Goethe’s “Werther.” Suffering and death are what define Goethe’s “Werther,” and a discomfitingly close observation of reality is what makes Kafka’s “The Trial” shine. Combine the two, and you get an idea of Malte and his state of mind.

Writing a Review on “The Notebooks” isn’t an easy task, because so much is out there already. But if you don’t want to dive deep into existentialist philosophy or literary science, this review might just be the right thing for you.

Is ‘The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge’ Even a Novel?

While today “The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge” is described as a novel, at the time of its publication that classification wasn’t so cut and dry. In the hundred years since it first appeared, the constraints of the genre have drastically changed. Today almost any long form prose can be described and marketed as a novel. But at the beginning of the 20th century this wasn’t so. Which is probably why R. M. Rilke himself described “The Notebooks” as a “long form prose poetry.” And still today this description is a much better fit.

From a novel, most audiences would expect at least one storyline, a little character development and some action. Nothing of which you get in “The Notebooks,” at least not on the surface. Of course, there’s character development, some scenes where some things happen, and technically also a story.

On the surface “The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge” is not much more than a confusing collection of jottings, sketches or recordings — which, incidentally, are other ways to translate the original title, “Aufzeichnungen.” But if you decide to read “The Notebooks,” just looking at the surface won’t do you any good. To quote:

“Here I sit in my little room, I, Brigge, twenty-eight years old now and known to no one. Here I sit, and I am nothing. […] Is it possible, it [Brigge] thinks, that we have neither seen nor perceived nor said anything real or of any importance yet? […] Yes, it is possible. […] Is it possible that despite our inventions and progress, despite our culture, religion and knowledge of the world, we have remained on the surface of life? Is it possible that even that surface, which might still have been something, has been covered with an unbelievably boring material, leaving it looking like drawing-room furniture in the summer holidays. Yes, it is possible.”

And if you are not willing, or concentrated enough, to engage with these questions in yourself, then reading “The Notebooks” won’t do you any good. It will just bore you. So if you pick up the novel, the book, the long prose poem, be ready to ask some serious questions (and do some serious historical research while reading).

If, of course, you are a student of philosophy or literature, there’s a good chance you don’t have a choice.

Malte or Rilke: Autobiography or Fiction?

“The Notebooks” are completely written from the perspective of Malte (Laurids Brigge). A young expatriate from Denmark, with a modestly noble background, the last of his name, living in Paris. But at times Malte’s isn’t the only perspective we’re seeing, because big parts of the book could also be viewed as an autobiography.

Several parts of the novel can be found in the personal correspondence of Rilke. One part is even a direct copy of a letter he wrote to a friend. Many of the experiences that Malte undergoes correspond directly to what Rilke experienced during his own time in Paris. The childhood stories Malte tells us are strongly inspired by Rilke’s own childhood.

Malte tells us lots of stories from his childhood; he also tells us stories of personalities that lived hundreds of years before even his time. So while technically, “The Notebooks” are completely written in the first person, with Malte as the narrator, the perspectives change all the time. Not only, because it’s unclear whether the character or the author is speaking, but also because he (Malte or Rilke) speaks of events that happened many years ago, as if they are transpiring before his eyes at this very moment.

These many changes of perspective are what make “The Notebooks” so hard to read at times. While they are not necessarily hard to follow, as the reader always knows they’re happening, they happen suddenly. They can easily overwhelm a reader that is used to the clear and linear storytelling of most contemporary novels. But then again, “The Notebooks” aren’t necessarily a novel.

Concentration Required and Deep Dives Encouraged: Reading Rilke is a Task

The Reason You Read: Modern Relevance

If you’re reading “The Notebooks,” you probably have a reason for doing so. As a student of philosophy, you are probably interested in Rilke’s take on life, his existentialist view of things. As an admirer of Rilke as an author, you probably want to know how his prose differs from his poetry. As a (art-) historian you might be interested in the influence Rilke’s time and contemporaries had on the book (and vise versa). But there are many more people “The Notebooks” speak to: expats, city-dwellers, political people, young adults.

In “The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge” Rainer Maria Rilke paints a picture of city life, of an expat’s reality, of life’s uncertainties that are appealing to a wide array of people. Most striking (to me) was how, in the beginning of the book, he writes about Paris at the turn of the last century, and it feels like he describes a modern city. This modern feel is a continuous element in the first half of the book: That even though he writes about struggles, worries, and realities that people had and lived over a hundred years ago, it’s every bit as relevant today.

Unnecessary or Just Unusual? — A Difficult Style to Translate and Read

The reason I’m saying that you probably have a reason to read “The Notebooks” is that while it’s held in high regard with the critics of many disciplines, it doesn’t have a reputation for being a light read. If you are looking to read “The Notebooks,” but don’t want to be overwhelmed by the task, I recommend the translation by William Needham. But we will get into the translations a bit further down the line.

For now let’s look at the writing in the original:

When I read “The Notebooks,” I stumbled over words, sentences and linguistic constructions all the time. Even though, interestingly, it wasn’t an old-fashioned style of writing that confused me. Many times, old classics are written with their respective contemporary linguistic fashions and that makes them feel unhandy or complicated today even though they weren’t written that way. With “The Notebooks” I get the feeling that the impression on the reader didn’t change much in the hundred years since its publication.

I would like to think that a reader of Rilke’s time stumbled over the same constructions and oddities I struggle with today. Some of these are alleviated in the English translations, an example is already the first sentence:

“So, also hierher kommen die Leute, um zu leben, ich würde eher meinen, es stürbe sich hier.”

Translation (Robert Vilain, Oxford World Classics):

“So, this is where people come to live. It seems to though, that it’s dying that happens here.”

Second Translation (Michael Hulse, Penguin Classics):

“This, then, is where people come to live, I’d have thought it more of a place to die.”

What the two translators struggle with here, is the same thing a German reader would stumble over in the original: “stürbe,” a conjunctive of “sterben” (engl.: to die), and an extremely unusual one. (The form and construction that Rilke choses here would have been unusual even at his time.) The last part of the first sentence doesn’t refer to people, it refers to the action of dying. Which the first translation captures, but that version leaves out the personal observation in the part before. While the second translation captures that, it makes concessions on the dying. Both translations are as accurate as it gets, but it’s simply impossible to translate this particularly strange expression. And this is just one example, of how the writing in “The Notebooks” is at best strange sometimes, and almost incomprehensible at others.

The storyline is, similar to the style of writing, hard to follow at times. Rilke regularly uses words like “suddenly” or “abruptly” and instead of something actually happening “in the blink of an eye,” he goes off into the far past of the character. There are virtually no time constraints to the narrative. At one point it’s set in the present day, then jumps back into childhood and then travels even further back into the mind of a historical figure. To say that there’d be a plot, would be an overstatement. It’s more — as the title suggests — a collection of thoughts.

No Fluff After All — Even Though It Might Seem So

There’s a certain tendency to avoid criticizing classics. If you are Tolstoy, it doesn’t matter if you could have cut down “War and Peace” to fit neatly on three hundred pages. You’ve written a monumental epos, and it’s perfect as is. Well, I think Rilke could have certainly improved the overall experience for the reader, and I think he would have, if the aim had been to write a novel.

“The Notebooks” are full of diversions from the story and references that could seem unnecessary to the average reader. So while sometimes the reading feels like wading through honey, and each line becomes a struggle, they aren’t unnecessary fluff after all. Because, if you take the time to research, you will get an even deeper understanding of what’s being said.

Malte Growing and Maturing as a Person and Writer While Working on ‘The Notebooks’

Malte matures in the course of the book, both as a person and as a writer. Two processes are linked and build the narrative. In the beginning of the book his writings are the sketches or jottings of an overwhelmed young adult from the Danish countryside who just arrived in the bustling city. He isn’t really certain what to make of his surroundings and of himself, so his solution is to sit down and write. Malte does what Rilke would recommend to any young writer (and does in the “Letters to a young poet”): Note what you observe.

As he (Malte) does so, he notes his inner commotion and associations from his childhood and teenage years. In the process of articulating these feelings and memories, his style of writing changes. It becomes more intricate and bold. While toward the end of the book the plot lines get thinner, and the reader gets increasingly little information of the events unfolding around Malte, we can see how Malte matures as a person. Maybe he isn’t so overwhelmed anymore. Maybe he becomes settled? Maybe that is why he doesn’t have the need anymore to observe small details of the life around him.

And when he does, the change becomes obvious. There’s a scene toward the end of the book where he, after long passages of reflection on his childhood, goes back to observing the street-life of Paris. Here we can see how his view of the world has changed and matured.

The fact that we get so many insights into Malte’s early life, also creates the impression that the character is evolving. Even though the character stays the same at the time of writing, we as readers get a fuller view of his personality through the lens of his childhood.

The Character is the Story

It’s hard to say much about the story of “The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge,” because it mostly focuses on the development of Malte as a character and a writer. Summed up the story of “The Notebooks” is:

We join Malte as he already lives in Paris. He’s a young man from an insignificant noble family from Denmark. We find out that he’s also the last of his lineage. The first half of the book we follow Malte as he strolls through Paris, observes the chaos of the big city, and describes freakish incidents. It’s the travel report of a young man and aspiring writer from the country that moves into the big city. A story that could be told today just as well.

The end of the first half is marked by a letter Malte writes to a friend at home, in fact a letter that Rilke wrote as it’s printed to his benefactor, the princess of Thurn und Taxis. In this letter, Malte (Rilke) describes how he feels that there’s no point in trying to convey his experiences to his friends at home, because he’s become an entirely different person during his travels. The recipient of the letter would therefore not understand what he’s going through, because they don’t know the person who’s writing anymore.

“What’s the use of telling someone that I am changing? If I’m changing, I am no longer who I was; and if I am something else, it’s obvious that I have no acquaintances. And I can’t possibly write to strangers.”

After this letter, the storytelling changes. It shifts from Malte’s experiences in Paris to a further removed perspective. From this point on, we mostly get the perspective of historical figures and their experiences. To understand these references, even very historically savvy readers will need to do a lot of research to keep up with the story. This part was written by Rilke several years after the creation of the first part. It all comes to a close with Rilke’s re-interpretation of the biblical parable of the prodigal son, which does a great job at tying together all the loose ends of Malte’s character development and gives a concrete point of contact for trying to interpret the meaning of the book.

Rilke’s Very Personal Style is Exemplified in ‘The Notebooks’

Rilke is a poet. And while also Goethe was a poet, he still managed to write what is often referred to as the first novel (“Werther”) in pretty clear and digestible language. Rilke doesn’t. Rather, he doesn’t try.

Both the Penguin Classics and the Oxford World’s Classics editions give a very good account of Rilke’s very own style. Rilke is famous for his unique style. While his early poems “only” show his mastery of the craft, during his time in Paris, he gets acquainted with a whole new way of perceiving the world. He was working with the french sculptor, Ronin who, Rilke said, taught him to “actually see things.” There’s a famous passage in “The Notebooks” where Malte observes the side of a house and notices there used to be another building standing there. The remnants of the room partitions are still visible, the chimneys and the toilets have left behind traces. This passage is a perfect example of this very unique style of Rilke’s where things are not inanimate. They are actors, have feelings and react to him.

These passages are very enjoyable to read and have a high re-reading value. While later passages in the book might be considered less interesting (for a modern reader), these early parts, the observations and implications of seemingly mundane occurrences, are highly valuable to modern readers as they convey feelings and states of mind that are inherent in the human condition.

A Philosophical Poet Like of the First Hour

Discussing, no, even skimming the topics of Rilke’s philosophy, cultural impact or contribution to both (modern) poetry and thought, goes beyond the scope of this review (and honestly far beyond my intellectual capabilities). Nonetheless, maybe I can gloss over some of these shortcomings by exercising some proven strategies of my field, namely: Summarium ad absurdum (Summarize to the point of absurdity) and name-dropping.

While political standpoints are not clearly visible in “The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge,” philosophy is very much so. Main topics that are discussed in depth are:

• Existence and Emotions, with a special emphasis on aspects of either, such as: Death and Time, Love and Childhood
• Writing in all its various shapes and forms, as an action, an experience, a craft, an art and a journey is discussed
• And of course, the underlying issue in everything is God.

Rilke’s philosophy, which is not only but very strongly expressed in “The Notebooks,” is unitarian . Mostly meaning that his view (or perception) of God can not be read in any dogmatic way and is subject to the individual’s faith. His poems show a great variety of expressions of his personal faith. While he was raised an Orthodox Catholic, his perception, practice or expression of faith could probably be applied to any (or almost any) denomination and religion.

“My God, I thought with sudden vehemence, so you really are. There are proofs of your existence. I have forgotten them all and never even wanted any, for what a huge obligation would lie in the certainty of you.”

His perception of writing is exemplified both by its practice in his life and his writings (about it). Rilke, reportedly, was not much use for anything except writing. He took it very seriously and professionally and wrote every day. About writing poems he writes in “The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge”:

“For the sake of a few lines one must see many cities, men and things. One must know the animals, one must feel how the birds fly and know the gesture with which the small flowers open in the morning. One must be able to think back to roads in unknown regions, to unexpected meetings and to partings which one had long seen coming; to days of childhood that are still unexplained, to parents that one had to hurt when they brought one some joy and one did not grasp it (it was joy for someone else); to childhood illness that so strangely began with a number of profound and grave transformations, to days in rooms withdrawn and quiet and to mornings by the sea, to the sea itself, to seas, to nights of travel that rushed along on high and flew with all the stars-and it is not enough if one may think all of this. One must have memories of many nights of love, none of which was like the others, of the screams of women in labor, and of light, white, sleeping women in childbed, closing again. But one must also have been beside the dying, one must have sat beside the dead in the room with the open window and the fitful noises. And still it is not enough to have memories. One must be able to forget them when they are many, and one must have the great patience to wait until they come again. For it is not yet the memories themselves. Not until they have turned to blood within us, to glance, to gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves-not until then can it happen that in a most rare hour the first word of a verse arises in their midst and goes forth from them.”

This “most rare hour ” for Rilke was when he sat down at his desk every morning to diligently exercise his craft.

Death plays another huge role in “The Notebooks.” Within the first pages of the book, Rilke takes the time to explain how nowadays people don’t take their time dying anymore, and great cities like Paris are manufacturies for thousands of mass-produced deaths. This dynamic is in contrast to noble and individual deaths, like the one of his ancestor that he experienced as a child at his family’s country estate.

So maybe politics after all play a part in “The Notebooks,” as Rilke laments a complaint as old as time: change. And especially interesting for modern readers: The alienation in modern(izing) society.

Relevant Until Today

Generations of hallmarking philosophers are discussing and building on Rilke’s works. Hölderin and Heidegger both took great interest in the work of the poet, and he is widely regarded as a poet-philosopher . Something that today might seem strange, with the search for wisdom and the search for beauty being so thoroughly divided today, but poetry is actually a quite classical form of expressing philosophy.

If Rilke had a clear goal while writing “The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge,” this review would assume it to be expressing his thoughts on philosophy and theology. These thoughts are therefore not “woven into” the narrative; they are the narrative.

Any reader should thus ask themself if they are ready to and in a place to digest and ponder these ideas, let them resonate and expand within them, before picking up the book. There’s really no point in reading “The Notebooks” if one isn’t in the mood for deep thinking., The book is, however, still every bit as interesting and valuable today as it was a hundred years ago.

Too Much Further Reading

There’s a mountain of further reading one could dive into if one would like to. I can’t claim to have really done that. I may have scratched the surface, but not much more. But I have a few things that could be interesting to the average reader:

• The YouTube Series by Gregory B. Sadler on Rillke’s Existentialism
• “An interpreter’s guide to Rainer Maria Rilke” by Joseph A. Leese
• “Writing as a paradox in Rainer Maria Rilke’s ‘The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge’” by Jock Macleod

The YouTube Series I enjoyed during my research, because it offers a good overview of Rilke’s philosophy. It doesn’t pretend to be comprehensive, but still goes into enough depth at certain interesting points. Sadler also has a number of other talks on Rilke that are interesting to listen to, if you want to learn more about Rilke’s perception of God, for example. And, of course, it offers the benefit of being a video or podcast, if you prefer that over reading research papers.

The “Interpreter’s guide” offers a good overview over everything important with Rilke: Life, style, language, writing, and it isn’t as long as much of the other things written.

I picked the third one, because I am personally invested in the topic of writing and noticed how Rilke approached the motive or topic in “The Notebooks.” It’s a detailed discussion of one particular topic. You can easily find many other detailed discussions of other topics in “The Notebooks.”

Translation Critique

As mentioned already, translating Rilke must not have been an easy task. I know from personal experience that translating German into English has its own peculiarities, so I can only respect the mastery of both languages it took to translate this very particular German into English.

Joseph A. Leese wrote in his 1968 “An Interpreter’s guide to Rainer Maria Rilke”:

“[…] The interpreter is responsible for much more than the mere oral reading of words; he must discover and be able to elicit the intellectual and emotional meaning of the words and of the selection as a whole. The interpreter must employ certain tools of analysis to uncover, as much as possible, what the author has woven into a particular work. Only then is he ready to communicate the work in its aesthetic entirety.”

He then proceeds to hand the reader these tools, which are interesting really to any reader. “An interpreter’s guide to Rainer Maria Rilke” is a comprehensive analysis of Rilke’s life and work and a good start to dig deeper into the poet.

But I digress. The translations I read are:

• The Oxford World Classics Edition, translated by Robert Vilain
• The Penguin Classics Edition, translated by Michael Hulse
• The audiobook translated by William Needham

In terms of the quality of the individual translations, there’s little to say. Both Vilain’s and Hulse’s translations do a very good job at capturing Rilke’s style. While Needham’s translation is certainly the best fit for an audiobook, because it straightens out some of the peculiarities. Maybe, at least in comparison, I wouldn’t recommend it as a translation to read, but to listen to it’s perfect.

I think the only discernible difference in quality, or rather preference, is the preface part of the Penguin Classics and the Oxford World Classic Editions. I preferred the Penguin version, but I can’t really say why.

I think in none of the translations any part of the essence of Rilke gets lost, and I think that’s what counts. Yes, some oddities, and interesting turns of phrases or expressions, of course get lost, but in the end, the big questions of Rilke are very present in the translations. And as a reader you won’t make a bad choice if you pick one of these three.

My Personal Opinion

I enjoyed “The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge” by Rainer Maria Rilke and this review, I think, shows that. But I do have some mixed feelings.

The first half of the book is very entertaining. It’s ever current, and discusses topics that I feel connected to on a personal level. I don’t come from the countryside, but life in a metropolis is much different than living in the city-village I came from. Especially where Rilke describes his first brushes with desolation. It’s a feeling I can much connect to, and he doesn’t write about it in a judging way. He doesn’t try to bury his subject in pity, or elevate it over its proper status. He just observes and notes.

The observations of life in the big city, both of the city and of his emotional reaction to it, are the most valuable part to me. The latter parts, where he goes on and on about historical figures, while in the beginning interesting and a nice starter for research, later became more annoying.

So I would say my personal opinion is divided into the two parts of the book:

I am in love and deeply touched by the first half and slightly annoyed and frustrated with the second. The end, though, ties it together, and is worth working through the more frustrating parts for.

Trying to Sum Up ‘The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge’ by Rainer Rilke

Summed up, Rilke produced a timeless piece of art which is every bit as relevant to a modern reader as it would have been to one of Rilke’s time. It’s an at times captivating work of literature and at others just tedious to read.

But all in all, every bit of it is worth it.

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