Like every great artist [Hesse] has essentially but one theme, of which all his works are only maturing variations. Hesse's fundamental fable is the endless struggle of the individual for self-recognition and self-realization, and the resulting conflict with the equalizing forces, the temptations, and taboos of a given environment. (p. 355)

Hermann Hesse is neither a "realistic" nor a "symbolistic" writer, in the loose and hazy sense in which these terms are commonly applied, but it is his perfect integration of both spheres, of the real and the phantastic, the unbroken simultaneousness of the world without and the world within and their constant interplay that produce the "magic realism" (to give it a name) which is his rare achievement and the lure of his books and wherein lies his greatness as an artist. Contemplating the microcosmos of the human heart, he perceives the macrocosmos created in its image, and thus also are the characters that populate his books brought to life: from within, literally being part of their Creator, the blood and flesh images and projections of his encompassing self. (pp. 356-57)

None of his novels have what is called "social significance," they are concerned with the individual and his universal destiny, their underdog—being such by virtue of his character, not by economic deficiency—may be found in any stratum of society. In this and some other respects Hesse might be compared with Thomas Wolfe to whom he has a certain atmospheric affinity, insofar as Wolfe is the one important romantic in modern American literature, the seeker and inquirer whose eyes behold, as do Hesse's, the Hills Beyond. Both share the all-embracing zest and thirst for life and the humility before its riddle, while both, by the same token, spurn pontifical gestures and mysterious airs, knowing that the real secrets are behind the things, not hidden in blue hazes and artificial smoke screens before them.

The books of both authors have in common also that they are mainly autobiographical—though in characteristically different ways…. Hermann Hesse, even in relating stories from his life, is intent in bringing out The Story in it, the parable rather than the panorama, the epos rather than the episode, the essence rather than the abundance…. (p. 357)

The same intimate nature-feeling that is conveyed by his prose writings pervades Hesse's ten volumes of poetry. Deeply felt, inwardly and still, but never tame or sentimental, endowed with an often folksong-like quality, his lyric continues in its simplicity and classical perfection of form the tradition of Matthias Claudius and Goethe. The poet's knowingness of death and its all-pervading ever-presence is a frequently recurring theme. To those familiar with his narrative work, this is not surprising. Hesse is, in fact, quite outstandingly the bard of death, but not in a morbid way; on the contrary, his awareness of time's relentless parting, his death-desire and -fear, his rebellion and acceptance make for his flaming love of life, its sweetness and enticing danger, its preciousness and irrevocability; they make also for his anger and bitter indignation about the dullness and wastefulness and hypocrisy of our anti-life-force civilization. And the scorn and satire he can on occasion muster, neither miss nor spare their mark. (p. 358)

Old Henrik Ibsen in one of his letters expressed it perfectly in a few words that could stand as the motto also of Hermann Hesse's work: "The principal thing is that one remain veracious and faithful in one's relation to oneself. The great thing is not to will one thing rather than another, but to will that which one is absolutely compelled to will, because one is oneself and cannot be otherwise. Anything else will drag us into deception." (pp. 359-60)