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A review by ockdie
The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell
4.0
3/4ths of this work felt interesting and inspiring.
I can't give it 5 stars, though, as the book lost me somewhere in the middle of Part 2 - it felt less structured and had way less direction than everything that came before, so I had to switch to the audiobook format here to get through it until it got interesting for me again. I came back to reading with my own two eyes only for the epilogue as it had some things I just had to highlight and absorb in the best way possbole.
Overall, I wouldn't say that this felt like a revelation but it was nice to revisit things from my youth that I lost touch with, and kind of reinforce the steadily forming answer to the 'Why does life feel so hollow lately?' question that's been bugging me on and off for several years now.
And I think it's the hyperreality, the breakneck tempo, the sensory and information overload of the modern civilization - the fear of being bored, the fake transparency of our lives on social media, the simulacras, the continued enabling of division spurred on by social media algorithms barely leaving us with space to dream, to question, to overthrow, to grandiosely mythologize and pay attention to the mundane aspects of our lives for ourselves, in our heads, not necessarily outwardly, not for approval, but for the source within us that's waiting to shine through, should we let it. The hero's journey has moved within, and we are steadily refusing the call.
I can't give it 5 stars, though, as the book lost me somewhere in the middle of Part 2 - it felt less structured and had way less direction than everything that came before, so I had to switch to the audiobook format here to get through it until it got interesting for me again. I came back to reading with my own two eyes only for the epilogue as it had some things I just had to highlight and absorb in the best way possbole.
Overall, I wouldn't say that this felt like a revelation but it was nice to revisit things from my youth that I lost touch with, and kind of reinforce the steadily forming answer to the 'Why does life feel so hollow lately?' question that's been bugging me on and off for several years now.
And I think it's the hyperreality, the breakneck tempo, the sensory and information overload of the modern civilization - the fear of being bored, the fake transparency of our lives on social media, the simulacras, the continued enabling of division spurred on by social media algorithms barely leaving us with space to dream, to question, to overthrow, to grandiosely mythologize and pay attention to the mundane aspects of our lives for ourselves, in our heads, not necessarily outwardly, not for approval, but for the source within us that's waiting to shine through, should we let it. The hero's journey has moved within, and we are steadily refusing the call.