The young Heinrich Heine, suffocating in the lecture halls of Göttingen, did what any restless poet would do: he walked out. In autumn 1824, he abandoned his law studies for a walking journey through the Harz Mountains, and from that escape came one of the most electrifying travel narratives in German literature. Die Harzreise fizzes with the energy of a young man discovering that the world is vast and ridiculous and beautiful, and that he has a voice sharp enough to capture all three. Heine's observations oscillate between lyrical reverie and vicious satire, whether he's describing mountain peaks or dissecting the pompous academics he left behind. The famous Göttingen section alone - his gleeful roast of the university's stuffy professors and bored students - announced a talent that would become impossible to ignore. This is travel writing as liberation: funny, strange, occasionally bitter, and utterly alive.
