The Seducer's Diary by Kierkegaard: Initial Fresh Impressions

Matters of the Heart
To be honest, it’s quite challenging for me to read about such topics. These are some of the most pleasant and intriguing subjects for me. But along with enlightenment, they bring me sadness, disappointment, and at times, banal envy.

This book left me equally perplexed. Not because of the subject matter, but simply because of the banal plot that left a mark on my heart. Ah, Cordelia did not deserve this...

Thoughts
I don’t even know where to start. From the description and external sources, I’ve found that The Seducer's Diary is a fragment of Kierkegaard's Either/Or, in which Kierkegaard shows the existence of a person at the "aesthetic" stage of human development on the way to the divine.

To some extent, I might be at this stage in some areas. I can agree with many of the words in this book. Rather, I feel a sense of solidarity with the main character’s emotions.

If I were to share my impression and draw some conclusions, as I don’t yet know Kierkegaard’s conclusions, the aesthetic stage might be seen as a somewhat primitive concept, but it appears to me as an illusory and beautiful hedonism.

The main character lives for the pleasure of love. Not sex, but the beautiful feeling of love as he understands it. He plays games with his victims and with himself. He savors every glance, rustle, and sigh. He enjoys anticipating something magical that love will bring him. He reflects a lot on women and his philosophical reflections on the being of a woman—I think in a similar way.

He says that the essence of a woman is that she is made for someone else. That she is a part of nature and for a man, she is like a dream, a vision, and an evening star that must be ascended far into the sky.

I think somewhat similarly. I have always been aesthetically inspired by the figure of a woman. I’ve never been inspired by the physicality of a woman’s body. Of course, like any man, I have my tastes and preferences in this matter, and this is undoubtedly a plus; its absence can ruin a work and diminish the desire to even engage with it. I don’t know how to describe it, but the mere fact of their existence brings me pleasure and inner pleasant excitement. They somehow imbue ordinary things with context and meaning, and can change their nature.

For instance, if there is an ordinary stone lying on the beach, and you and your beloved are strolling by it. You don’t care about that unfortunate stone.

And then you’re walking and decide to throw stones into the sea. A simple childhood game, and your lady picks up that ordinary stone that’s been lying there for years and kisses it as if to bring you good luck.

Now it’s no longer an ordinary stone. For you, it’s an artifact, something so valuable that in the moment, you’re ready to trade a lot for it. Its molecular structure hasn’t changed, but your perception has. Now you love it almost as much as her. She made you love a stone))) It’s amusing.

But there’s a downside to all this. The main character of this story seeks only pleasure. You might say that during the story, he goes through unpleasant things, but even this was part of the “pleasant” experience. He enjoys the game, and when the game bores him, he abandons it.

He doesn’t care what he has done to her. That he has essentially betrayed her, scarred her inner world, her entire future and history. To some extent, he has ruined the lives of her loved ones, just to fill the void inside himself.

One might conclude that aestheticism is the highest form of destructive selfishness. Selfishness without barriers or principles. Selfishness where you’re willing to sink your teeth into the flesh of the sweetest fruit. But in reality, you’re devouring not the fruit but yourself.

You morally decay because inside you have nothing. There is emptiness, which you try to fill with beauty, avoiding everything unpleasant and unappealing.

But life isn’t only about beauty. Moreover, beauty exists in almost everything terrifying, disgusting, and unpleasant. One just needs to learn to see it.

It’s sad that the main character truly understands the depth of a woman’s soul. Yet, it can be said that he has never tasted the flavor of love. He deceived himself, creating conditions under which Cordelia would “love” him of her own free will, while being aware, though forgetting, that he was leading her down this “free” path.

So what kind of love is this? It’s pus and manipulation.

What I Learned
Despite all this somewhat sad vibe, I gleaned many useful things from it.

First of all, I gained some experience in understanding the female soul. Reading and feeling all this, I almost felt like I was inside the female body and swam a bit in those distant and dark waters.

I learned how to use shyness to my advantage. It’s one thing to understand, and another to be able to or learn to do it, but the fact itself is valuable. As Kierkegaard says, any shyness is always detrimental to your romantic story with a woman. But if it’s not manipulation on your part, where you use shyness as a smoke screen to gain a good position.

I learned an interesting story about Vesta. The goddess of true virginity, whose image did not exist.

Summary
It seems to me that I’ve written everything I could. I know that there’s a lot I haven’t written and clearly didn’t understand. Therefore, I think it would be worthwhile to re-read this story in the future. I think it will be useful to revisit it when I read Either/Or.

But what I can say in conclusion is that this is the kind of philosophy I want to read. In a semi-fictional format, ideally with allegories on romantic stories. I really enjoyed this book, primarily because I haven’t eagerly read the final pages in a long time, waiting to find out what’s at the very end, even though I kind of knew what it would be. Plus, I learned a lot about women. It can be said that it was a more sensual experience than practical or theoretical. But with women, it’s necessary, and I feel like I’ve gained more fuel or resources for my internal sculptors who build the statue of this aspect of life within me.