Ever fall in love with someone and then find out that they’re kind of an ass? Yeah…me too. The first Rilke that ever crossed my hands was Letters to a Young Poet, and I still remember the effect it had on me. I felt as if I had found my soul mate….if he had been in the room (and alive) I would have jumped him on the spot. There is a vibrant grace and poignant longing in every bit of Rilke I have read, and the first elegy of his Duino Elegies has the power to hit some g-spot deep in my heart and bring me to tears. So finding out that he was actually kind of a whiney, narcissistic brat was analogous to finding out as a kid that Santa Claus didn’t really exist.

According to Robert Vilain, the Rilke I’m having an affair with in my head is NOT in fact the same Rilke who inhabited this planet. Real Rilke was “vain, self-pitying, obsessive, narcissistic, snobbish, whining, arrogant, childish, demanding, lachrymose and neurotic, as well as being given to tantrums and panics.” However, apparently my g-spot is not the only one he has been able to hit; even though he was a bit of an ass, Rilke was also “magnetically attractive to a series of women.” 

So what does it mean when you fall in love with someone who isn’t a very nice person? And should you try to separate the artist from the art? And why doesn’t Rilke ever return my phone calls?!

Vilain and other scholars base much of their assessment of Rilke’s personality on studies of his diaries and letters, particularly his correspondence with arguably the most influential woman in his life – Lou Andreas-Salomé. Edward Snow and Michael Winkler recently translated the correspondence between Rilke and Andreas-Salomé and published it as Rilke and Andreas-Salomé: A Love Story in Letters (a book which has long been sitting in my Amazon cart, waiting for the day when I have the money to buy it). According to Snow and Winkler:

“the construction of Rilke’s self-image involved the presence first of a great artist as both model and challenge (Pushkin or Tolstoy in one phase of his life, Rodin, Cézanne or Valéry at later stages), then of what the two of them called ‘the Other’ within Rilke (manifested as defiance, resistance, or illness), and finally of Andreas-Salomé herself, as someone who will always understand and explain.”

I am very interested in this “Other” because that concept resonates for me, and gives me hope that maybe Rilke hits the g-spot in my heart for a very good reason.

I have always been drawn to Rilke’s writing in part because it speaks to the Other in me. If he was “vain, self-pitying, obsessive, narcissistic, snobbish, whining” etc. in life, it is certainly not readily apparent in the Rilke I have read. The Rilke I know seems to transcend this Other, and as a result his writings give me a lot of hope. In Letters to a Young Poet, Rilke urges Herr Kappus to “not lose too much time and too much courage in explaining [his] attitude to people.” Rilke, like most artists, spent a great deal of time digging around deep inside of the scariest parts of himself in an attempt at “making things out of fear.” So maybe part of the reason why some see Rilke as a narcissistic, whiney ass is because he followed his own advice.

Because when you spend a great deal of time confronting the Other inside of yourself, you’re probably not going to be very good company. And maybe Rilke decided not to lose any time or courage explaining himself to others. And maybe, as a result, he came across as a major asshole.

The scariest parts of ourselves are also frequently the most interesting, so artists tend to spend a lot of time in terrifying territory. The fallout from his exploration of this Other briefly ended his correspondence with Andreas-Salomé, and it was only after he found “a language in which to express the troublesome ‘Other’ the caused their rift” that they were able to reconnect. Once they did, “his letters to her and others at this time become a medium for anticipating literary creation.” 

It is very hard to keep one foot in the normal/real world and the other in the world of creation/self-exploration without losing time or courage explaining yourself to anyone. I may just be making excuses for Rilke because I love him so dearly, but I can’t help but wonder if he did the world some good by being a bit of an ass. And because he followed his own advice to Herr Kappus to “Go inside yourself,” my life is better as a result. 

So, in summation:

1) You don’t fall in love with a person because they are nice; you fall in love with a person because they touch a part of your heart that no one else can.

2) I suppose you could separate an artist from their art, but why would you want to?

and

3) Rilke doesn’t return my phone calls because he’s dead. And that’s ok, because it would probably be a tumultuous and stressful relationship anyway; I have my own Other to deal with as it is.