The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

For a few months every year, I volunteer as an undergraduate applicant interviewer for Harvard admissions. I invite each prospective Harvard student to my house for what is hopefully a pleasant hour of conversation. Then I write a report, which might take me a few days to formulate, and submit it to the admissions committee. It’s not a terribly difficult process, but during the busiest times I can have four or more applicants on my plate at once, and with admissions’ deadlines, it can get a bit stressful. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t give it up. It’s the only real connection I still have to my alma mater, and I always look forward to meeting all these young hopefuls, most of whom are immensely talented and consistently intelligent.

I always try to make the interview as unintimidating as possible. I tell the candidates that my job is to get to know them on a personal level, not to grill them. Most people relax fairly soon, but one applicant stands out in my mind.

A thin, nervous young man arrived at my door a few years ago. I invited him to have a seat, and gave him a glass of water, which trembled in his hands until he abandoned it on the coffee table. Despite all my efforts to be open and friendly, he was almost paralyzed with fear and could hardly form complete sentences. I asked him all my usual questions: what classes did he enjoy? What were his extracurricular interests? I tried to separate his personality and thoughts from his unease. Of course, I as I always did, I asked him what his favorite book was.

“The Sorrows of Young Werther by Goethe,” he said emphatically with no pause. I was surprised. “I got it for Christmas last year, and I’ve been reading it over and over.” I wondered if I should be impressed or call in for psychological help.

I had read The Sorrows of Young Werther during college for a course entitled, “Lives Ruined by Literature.” The eponymous young Werther was certainly the poster child for ruining one’s own life. The book is mercilessly depressing, told as a series of letters from a tormented young man whose unrequited love destroys him in the end. I was astounded by the possibility that a person could make every minute detail of daily life cause for despair, and respond in ways that consistently made things much worse for himself. This was not a book for me, an optimist with a cheery disposition. But I could see how it could have been deeply affecting to many generations of young men struggling to form their own identities, figuring out how their lives related with the rest of society and the world.

I decided that I would be impressed with my young applicant, and held off on the 911 call. Despite his nervousness, he was intelligent and thoughtful, and would have made a fine addition to Harvard’s student body. Unfortunately, I can say the same about almost everyone I interview, and the statistics are not great for entrance. These days, it’s down to a less than 10% acceptance rate. My Geothe fan was not one of the lucky few.

The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

tags: books book reviews Harvard admissions Goethe