Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke

Or "GET OUT OF MY HEAD, RAINER!"

It's 1902, and aspiring poet Franz Xavier Kappus is looking for a little advice and inspiration. He writes to Rainer Maria Rilke. Rilke writes back. Kappus keeps the letters and, thankfully for the rest of us, publishes them in as the small but mighty book known as Letters to Young Poet - the kind of book Andy Lampl might describe as being sugary or figgish.

Absent from the book are Kappus's letters to Rilke. At first, I felt sort of cheated, like listening in on one side of a telephone conversation. What was Kappus writing to illicit such profoundly helpful, inspiring responses? Dear God, share it with the rest of us, please! Once this initial bout of stupidity wore off, I realized that I LOVED only reading Rilke's responses. Not knowing the prompts for some of his advice made the experience seem more personal, as if Rilke were speaking to me now instead of some German guy 100 years ago.

Reading Letters to a Young Poet was like therapy. Rilke was only 28 when he wrote the first letter (maybe 27? Either way, not much older than me.), so the letters have this amazing balance of being both wisdom-from-a-guy-who's-been-there and shit-I'm-processing-through-right-this-moment. This book should be mandatory reading for all bleeding heart sensitive artisty types (you know, like the kinds of people that populate this blog), as the majority of it centers around how to survive as a bleeding heart sensitive artisty type in a hostile world, a topic that hits particularly close to home at this moment of my life. Lay it on me, Rainer. I'll take everything you've got.