Siddhartha

 Not familiar with the religious blabber in the novel, but I suppose only a gist is required for an adequate understanding. Couldn't care less about the main character. One could tell how his life would transpire after a certain point, which should mostly comprise the “rites of passage” (I don't mind whether the reader finds this a nonsensical usage of the phrase or not) in the plot. Hence, I spent much time of my reading threading upon the miscellaneous occurrences that the novel so embellishes itself upon, a trait of it I find slightly endearing. But I still mostly found myself only groping space I'm already accustomed with (again, not a surprise considering the fact that I was rightly speculative of the gist of it, a passage of thought that would soon be verified later in the not-so-prose-heavy novel). The experiences of Siddharta do soothe themselves into me - very much only slightly - but it is that mere slightness that engenders me to only sufficient satisfaction not much reflective of the prose until I've probed upon it after resolution. Only after my read do I bother attempting to care due to its apparent reflective qualities, but I still require a proper experience during my read.