Death in Venice

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Summary: A haunting tale about the transcendent nature of beauty
Review: Death in Venice is one of the most moving works of fiction I have ever read in my life, and it is also a story that I never tire of reading. There is a haunting, dream-like quality to the tale itself, reinforced by the almost hypnotic prose brilliantly deployed by Thomas Mann. On the surface, it would seem to be a sordid story about a middle-aged man's tragic infatuation for a young boy, whilst on holiday in Venice. On reading it however, it becomes clear that it is not a story about homosexuality as such, but rather a profound consideration of the transcendent nature of beauty perceived by the senses. Yes, Gustav Von Ascherbach presents a tragic figure, chasing the object of his affections all over Venice. And, yes this infatuation also leads to his eventual doom. But, paradoxically, this new-found passion leads to his spiritual rebirth, as he realizes how beauty not only gives meaning to his art, but also to his own life. His love for Tadzio is a pure love. Through Tadzio he is being reconciled with himself, and his own sensual nature, after a lifetime of restraint and relentless self-discipline. So,for me, the underlying theme of this magnificent story is that "love really does conquer all" Please read it- you will be hooked for life!

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Summary: The Self Destructive Potential of Love
Review: Death in Venice is the first serious study of homoerotic love in the modern novel although many precedents do exist: the ambiguous sonnets of Michelangelo or Shakespeare, Marlowe's tortured Edward II, the androgynous aesthetics of Winckelmann, the lyrical allegories of Rimbaud and the dark insinuations of Stevenson's Jekyll and Hyde or Wilde's Dorian Gray. E.M. Forester's posthumously published Maurice is exactly contemporary with Death in Venice.

Death in Venice tells the story of Gustave von Aschenbach, a writer living in Munich. One May afternoon, while strolling through that city's famed English Gardens, von Aschenbach encounters the Wandervogel (hiker); an apparition of an angular, hawklike man, who returns von Aschenbach's gaze before disappearing.

A true ascetic, von Aschenbach has never known the sweet idleness and freedom of youth, but after viewing the Wandervogel he is seized by the desire to travel and leave his labors behind. Finally obeying the urges of his long-repressed, primeval, exotic side, von Aschenbach sets out for Trieste, however after only ten days he decides he dislikes that city and take a boat to Venice instead.

While making the short trip. von Aschenbach encounters yet another apparition--that of an old man, who, through the artifice of makeup and a wig, has attempted to make himself appear young again--to no avail. Disgusted, von Aschenbach promptly hires a gondolier and checks into his hotel on the Lido.

Later that evening, von Aschenbach's attention is hypnotically drawn to a Polish boy of fourteen who is dining at the next table with his family. Pale, with long hair and chiseled features and full of the exuberant charm and sweetness of youth, von Aschenbach silently acknowledges the fact that he has never witnessed anyone or anything, in nature or in art, that exhibits the perfection of this Polish youth. Although as yet unaware of its significance, this is the moment that seals von Aschenbach's fate.

The next morning, after experiencing revulsion at the sight and smell of the city's lagoons, von Aschenbach decides to leave Venice, but a mixup with his luggage compels him to remain. When he once again encounters the Polish youth, whose name he has learned is Tadzio, he comes to a partial realization of his heretofore subconscious desires and gives himself over to contemplation of "every line and pose" of Tadzio's exquisite form.

Though aware that an outbreak of cholera in Venice is being suppressed and concerned with a series of premonitions (reminiscent of the Wandervogel in the English Gardens) von Aschenbach chooses not to flee and even seeks to win Tadzio's attention by making himself up to appear younger than his true age, a sight which, only a short time ago, he had found revolting.

The days pass in a dreamlike state for von Aschenbach, caught in the trap of Tadzio's youth and beauty. When Tadzio catches von Aschenbach staring at him, he returns the stare with a smile. Tormented, as well as exhilarated, von Aschenbach flees into the shadows of the park where he utters what he has known all along, "I love you."

von Aschenbach's confession of love for Tadzio brings about the tragic climax of Death in Venice. The once dignified and distinguished von Aschenbach has allowed his passion for Tadzio to engulf him, pulling him into the vortex of a whirlpool of sensuality that can only lead to death and destruction.

Mann, himself, described the theme of Death in Venice as that most Wagernerian of ideas, the Liebestod (love-death), or fascination with death. Everything about this book has been crafted to illustrate the triumph of despair over discipline, destruction over restoration.

The complex, figurative prose of Death in Venice is different from everything else written by Mann. Even in translation, the contrast is instantly apparent between Death in Venice's elevated and elegiac tone and the more conversational idiom of A Man and His Dog, Disorder and Early Sorrow or even the more serious Mario and the Magician.

Mann wisely chose to write Death in Venice in rich, almost over-elaborate images. While this could (and should) be denounced as artifice when employed by an author of lesser talent, Mann knew that elaboration was necessary if we were to believe a man of dignity and ethics, such as von Aschenbach, falling in love with Tadzio. In describing Tadzio, Mann writes: "His face recalled the noblest moment of Greek sculpture--pale, with a sweet reserve, with clustering honey-colored ringlets, the brow and nose descending in one line, the winning mouth, the expression of pure and godlike serenity."

Death in Venice is a highly symbolic novella, with the symbolism centered around death. While some of it is readily apparent, much is more elusive. The Wandervogel encountered by von Aschenbach in the opening is only the first of many portents of death. Even Mann's description of the Wandervogel is evocative of a skeleton or a ghoul: "His chin was up, so that the Adam's apple looked very bald in the lean neck rising from the loose shirt; and he stood there sharply peering up into space out of colorless red-lashed eyes...At any rate, standing there as though at survey, the man had a bold and domineering, even a ruthless air, and his lips completed the picture by seeming to curl back, either by reason of some deformity or else because he grimaced, being blinded by the sun in his face; they laid bare the long, white, glistening teeth to the gums."

Once the story moves to Venice, Mann introduces other images of death in the form of the gondolas and discerning readers will quickly realize that the gondolier, the "despotic boatman," embodies Charon, ferryman of the Styx in Hades.

By the book's climax, Tadzio, essentially a two-dimensional character, takes on the characteristics of Hermes, who, with his smile, which becomes the kiss of death, summons von Aschenbach to his ultimate destruction.

Much in Death in Venice reflects Mann's own life, although the work is by no means autobiographical. Nevertheless, much in von Aschenbach can be found in Mann. von Aschenbach, though is an extreme example of the imperfections Mann did battle with during his own lifetime. If we only look closely, we can see that von Aschenbach is a symbol of the frailties and fallacies that plague us all.

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Summary: A little disagreement
Review: I love the story, but it must be pointed out that Aschenbach's love for the boy never constituted lust of any kind -- he never dreamt of sleeping with the boy. It seems to me a love for beauty which made him want to follow the boy.

Rating:
Summary: Zero stars if I could
Review: I was a philosophy major in college and I hated this book. But then again, the whole NAMBLA fic genre really doesn't do it for me. I'm sure some literary aesthetes are going to pick this review apart, good for them. I'm incredibly well-read and thought this one was just a tepid bore. Save your time, read some Dostoevsky, some Dickens, some Milton, (...).

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Summary: the truest art!
Review: Is there a finer experience than reading Thomas Mann? Death in Venice is his masterpiece, in my view (and arguably, one might add, Britten's greatest opera!), and, though the Russians come to mind, its pages, soaked in the majesty of the greatest art, reveal probably the greatest writing artist of the modern age. Aschenbach's passion is our own dilemma, and no other artist but Thomas Mann could leave him so lean and broken in our arms, and capable by that condition to fill us with consuming humanness. The philosopher Mann takes a language of human wounds and shows us ourselves, giving witness thereby to the essential power of literature. I consider it an act of religion to read Death in Venice every couple years. Religion is where, perhaps, we meet our heart; at the very least, art of this solicitude prompts a kind of faith that we still have one, after the wearing of the years, and all our private griefs. I hope the high schools and colleges are yet keeping Mann near, our children must yet gather and collect the food necessary to feed them all their lives. To 'recommend' this books seems almost pseudo-messianic! but if one commends it, let it be called not the work of a great literary messiah, but the cry of one of our brothers- a cry inextinguishable and provident.

Rating:
Summary: the truest art!
Review: Is there a finer experience than reading Thomas Mann? Death in Venice is his masterpiece, in my view (and arguably, one might add, Britten's greatest opera!), and, though the Russians come to mind, its pages, soaked in the majesty of the greatest art, reveal probably the greatest writing artist of the modern age. Aschenbach's passion is our own dilemma, and no other artist but Thomas Mann could leave him so lean and broken in our arms, and capable by that condition to fill us with consuming humanness. The philosopher Mann takes a language of human wounds and shows us ourselves, giving witness thereby to the essential power of literature. I consider it an act of religion to read Death in Venice every couple years. Religion is where, perhaps, we meet our heart; at the very least, art of this solicitude prompts a kind of faith that we still have one, after the wearing of the years, and all our private griefs. I hope the high schools and colleges are yet keeping Mann near, our children must yet gather and collect the food necessary to feed them all their lives. To 'recommend' this books seems almost pseudo-messianic! but if one commends it, let it be called not the work of a great literary messiah, but the cry of one of our brothers- a cry inextinguishable and provident.

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Summary: The most boring piece of literature that I've ever read
Review: It's boring, it's stupid, it's perverted, it's slow, it's TOO descriptive.

Don't waste your time, there are many deep and interesting books in Amazon as to read this one.

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Summary: Apollo v. Dionysos
Review: Mann is a sophisticated and complex writer, and thus not the most accessible. Familiarity with Greek mythology is a great help in understanding the symbolic subtleties of the book, which were lost on me at times. Mann shows us the basic Nietzschean opposition between Apollo and Dionysos by portraying the main character first as a brilliant, but dignified and rather conservative writer; and then as an intoxicated dreamer obsessed with a young Polish boy. His irrational and dangerous passion for this image of divine artistic perfection overcomes his sense of dignity and decency. It is a wonderful tragicomic aspect of this book that the main character continually runs into other decadent pleasure-seekers (an old drunkard, a guitar player, etc.), and is appalled by them, yet he is unable to control his own passion. We should not forget, however, that the main character might be as happy in his insane longing for the idealized boy as he was as a neurotic workaholic. Great writing, although very little actually happens in the book, most of the time Mann is dwelling on more abstract psychological and artistic themes. Finally, the book may very well make you want to visit Venice.

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Summary: Beatifully written yet over-exasperated
Review: Mann's style of writing is truly one of a kind. The only reason this was not a five star book was because it kept going, and going, and going without actually reaching anywhere. Too much repetitiveness of flowery writing made this book beatifully written, but also somewhat boring.

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Summary: A profound novel about art, beauty and love
Review: Most of what I would say is well covered in other reviews. I strongly agree with many others that "Death in Venice" is a profound work about art and beauty and love (among other things) and one of the best novels of the twentieth century. So I will keep my review short and just mention a couple of things that particularly impress me about "Death in Venice."

First, I find the drunken old man in the boat to be a particularly huge stroke of genius. The old man jokes around with a group of young men, and Aschenbach wonders how the young men can possibly tolerate him. At first I could not understand why Mann would go into such detail about this situation and Aschenbach's shocked reaction to it. Until, that is, I got to the end and saw how it underlines the completeness of Aschenbach's transformation: he has turned into just what he despised.

Also, Mann's use of the cholera epidemic is devastating: not only will Aschenbach risk his own life to keep alive the hope that his desire might be satisfied, but he is willing to keep his knowledge to himself and thereby risk his young love's life as well. As Mann describes, people with unspeakable desires secretly hope for chaos in the midst of which anything might become permissible. Rarely, maybe never, have I seen such a unique and profound insight illustrated so perfectly.

The beginning of the novel is somewhat tough reading, especially the very theoretical description of Aschenbach's career. But it is well worth working through. The book is as perfectly structured as a novel can be, and everything at the beginning has something that counterbalances it at the end. There are few novels that I would recommend more highly than "Death in Venice."