First published in 1912, "Death in Venice" is Thomas Mann's novella concerning Gustav von Aschenbach, a famous middle-aged author who in order to alleviate a terrible case of writer's black decides to go on holiday. Gustav first travels to the coast of Austria-Hungary but soon is overcome with the feeling that he is meant to travel to Venice. On Lido Island he takes up residence in a suite at the Grand Hotel des Bains. During dinner one evening at the hotel he sees a family at a table nearby and becomes fascinated by the beauty of their adolescent fourteen year old boy named Tadzio. His interest in Tadzio at first enlivens in him an uplifting and artistic spirit, however as the days pass his interest begins to grow into an unhealthy obsession. As the weather in Venice turns hot and humid, Gustav, feeling his health to be in decline, decides to travel to a cooler locale, however a mix up with his luggage, draws him back to the hotel and Tadzio, which he inwardly rejoices. Though Gustav never acts on his feelings regarding the boy he nevertheless feels himself drawn down a path of ruinous inward desire. A classic depiction of emotional suffering, "Death in Venice" brilliantly depicts the tragic intensity of inner psychological torment. This edition is printed on premium acid-free paper and follows the translation of Martin C. Doege.
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Death in Venice
By Thomas Mann
First published in 1912, "Death in Venice" is Thomas Mann's novella concerning Gustav von Aschenbach, a famous middle-aged author who in order to alleviate a terrible case of writer's black decides to go on holiday. Gustav first travels to the coast of Austria-Hungary but soon is overcome with the feeling that he is meant to travel to Venice. On Lido Island he takes up residence in a suite at the Grand Hotel des Bains. During dinner one evening at the hotel he sees a family at a table nearby and becomes fascinated by the beauty of their adolescent fourteen year old boy named Tadzio. His interest in Tadzio at first enlivens in him an uplifting and artistic spirit, however as the days pass his interest begins to grow into an unhealthy obsession. As the weather in Venice turns hot and humid, Gustav, feeling his health to be in decline, decides to travel to a cooler locale, however a mix up with his luggage, draws him back to the hotel and Tadzio, which he inwardly rejoices. Though Gustav never acts on his feelings regarding the boy he nevertheless feels himself drawn down a path of ruinous inward desire. A classic depiction of emotional suffering, "Death in Venice" brilliantly depicts the tragic intensity of inner psychological torment. This edition is printed on premium acid-free paper and follows the translation of Martin C. Doege.
Popular Reviews(1)
Reviewed by kenHuh. Interesting that I marked this book as read when I have little to no recollection about the story's plot, nor even of the prose that in my "second" reading seems so memorable now. Also interesting how two-ish years can change a person. I can imagine how the prose and the story bears no impact on my younger self, but now in my re-reading, I reel from the sometimes-confusing rhythms of Michael Henry Heim's translation. The initial experience of this text was sluggish. If it weren't for Michael Cunningham's incisive introduction, I would have given up altogether. Cunningham outlined the themes of <i>Death in Venice</i> clearly, presenting Aschenbach as this devastating romantic figure. For such a short text, it contained a lot within. Aschenbach, sometimes referred to as the "solitary traveler" or simply, the "traveler", has an air of Humbert Humbert about him, but less charming, perhaps, because Aschenbach was hardly given the space to show his charms (unlike HH and his 330+ page playground). Sure, sure. Aschenbach becomes obsessed with a fourteen year old boy, but somehow that aspect is inconsequential. His rhapsodizing, his thoughts on beauty, his obsessive tendencies, and his subconscious refusal to return to a state of reason are the things that mattered; Tadzio is only the vehicle for his lines of thought. The excuse to talk about art and beauty, in a way. And so, in Aschenbach's half-slumbering brain, thought, "we poets can be neither wise nor dignified," I shudder in vague agreement. These all bleeds into the internal consideration of 'what would I do if I could live my life again, knowing what I know now?' and it is the longing to be more dignified. Don't I realize that I grew up with wanton emotions for a reason? Anyway, damn. I really like this book now.