Death In Venice And Other Tales (1999) - Plot & Excerpts
firstly, i don't feel like this is a story is about a pedophile. to apply terms like "homosexual" and "pedophile" is to grossly malign the intentions of the author. just like calling somebody a "black" instead of a "human being" is a limiting statement, not a summary. this is a story about desire. nothingness, perfection and humanity are all explored in the story also. the vastness of the sea represents a sort of perfect nothingness, a void. in one particular scene, a human actually interrupts this perfection in the form of Tadzio walking across the horizon line in Aschenbach's field of vision:"as he sat there dreaming thus, deep, deep into the void, suddenly the margin line of the shore was cut by a human form. He gathered up his gaze and withdrew it from the illimitable..."here, it's as if Aschenbach's appreciation of perfection shifts from the unattainable nothingness of the sea to the more tangible, Eros-like beauty of the boy. Later on the same page, Aschenbach is still admiring the boy, and seeing him frown at the Russian family on the beach "gave to the godlike and inexpressible the final human touch." Aschenbach is not drooling over this boy's sculpted rear or the wisp of hair under his belly button. This is not sexual longing. If anything, I thought his makeover towards the end of the book is more out of an effort to emulate Tadzio, to attain his perfection, than to woo him. Earlier in the story, he sees an old man playing with some youths, trying to conceal his age with cosmetics and clothing, and Aschenbach is offended by this. it seems more likely that Aschenbach becomes this man that he initially rebukes for his falseness. Jung believed that what we dislike most in others is what we are afraid is true of ourselves. perhaps Aschenbach's response to the Old-youth, as I think he calls him, foreshadows the falsehood of Aschenbach's later transformation into a dark-haired, carmine-cheeked, full-lipped old man.To be disgusted by the taboo aspect of the story is to consider sex the only endpoint of desire. Desire can be thought of as man's response to perfection. Desire can be actualized through ownership, possession, or through art by capture. One sees a beautiful flower and takes a photograph, writes a sonnet, paints a canvas to try and capture its perfection. In this story, Aschenbach does attempt to write in Tadzio's presence, as if he's working through different expressions of desire in his lack of self-understanding. Death in Venice lacks sex or sexual thoughts. Any disgust in the reader towards the nonexistent consummation of Aschenbach's desire is almost like an autobiographical statement about the reader's own desires and transgressions, which is the most interesting thing about the story.----I do feel like Death in Venice suffers from the worst kind of literary allusion. Passages like this:" 'Aha, little Phaeax,' he thought. 'It seems you are priveleged to sleep yourself out.' With sudden gaiety he quoted: 'Oft veranderten Schmuck und warme Bader and Ruhe.' He took lesirely breakfast. The porter came up..."just irritate me, because they do little to advance the narrative or the mood and they don't elucidate tricky points by providing analogy. they're just there so that you have to look them up, like neon flashbulbs on the Las Vegas strip, shouting, "this is high art!"I don't feel like the inclusion of Greek mythology somehow "elevates" a work of literature. When I see references to mythology in a novel, I simply assume that the mythological referent is very similar to the situation in the book, except that it happened a long time ago. i didn't bother to look up who "Phaeax" was because, frankly, I don't care. That connection would not flesh out the character or the situation for me, just as the allusion in the phrase, "chocolate-covered strawberries are my Achilles heel" does not add any depth to the expressed description.When well utilized, allusion can be very effective. T.S. Eliot often uses it to further a mood that he's developing, always "making it new." He does not rely on the allusion to do the work for him, and often times it will suffice on its own without the reader understanding its background. For example, in The Waste Land, the final line of this stanza is from Tristan and Isolde and it roughly translates to "desolate and empty is the sea:"Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Od' und leer das Meer. It builds upon the emptiness in the previous lines (the 'nothing', the 'silence'), by evoking a scene where the dying Tristan is waiting for Isolde's ship to appear in the bay, but it fails to show. Even if the reader does not know the origins of the final line, it still works. It feels like it could be part of the poem. In Thomas Mann, the allusions seem contrived, a cheap trick for creating density where there really is none.
Rachael GutierrezMrs KuhnEnglish IIIOctober 14, 20071. Gustav von Aschenbach sees a vacationer in his hometown of Munich. He has a sudden aspiration to travel after he sees the tourist.2. It is apparent that Gustav suffers from a continuous illness and works out his troubles through art.3. Gustav travels to an Adriatic island and disliked the weather there. Ten days after he arrives on the island he leaves for Venice. 4. When boarding the ship for Venice Gustav spots a group of young men also boarding. With them is an old wrinkled man and Gustav feels an “irrational alarm.”5. Gustav boards a gondola to get to his hotel. He realizes that the gondolier is taking him the wrong way and refuses to turn around. When they arrive to the shore Gustav reaches for his money and the gondolier is no where to be found. An old man informs Gustav that he is a known criminal running from the police. 6. Gustav arrives at his hotel and notices a beautiful rich polish boy. Gustav guesses the boy to be around the age of 14.7. Gustav sees the boy at breakfast and again at the beach playing with his friends. Gustav is unable to focus on his work and spends the afternoon watching Tadzio. 8. Gustav gets into an elevator back at his hotel and is joined by Tadzio. Up-close Gustav notices that Tadzio is unhealthy.9. Gustav’s health is suffering because of the weather in Venice so he makes arrangements to leave for a resort close to Trieste. He was having breakfast at the hotel and saw Tadzio’s sister but didn’t see Tadzio. Gustav’s transportation arrives and Tadzio shows up for breakfast. Gustav makes the decision that he will take the public transportation to the resort when he is ready and allows his luggage to go on without him. Gustav is informed that his luggage was taken to the wrong place. He goes back to his hotel and sees the boy through his window and realizes that Tadizo is the reason he wants to secretly stay. 10. Gustav’s luggage arrives at the resort eventually, but he decides to stay in Venice. He spends hours out of each day to watch Tadizo. Watching Tadizo gives him some sort of significance. 11. Gustav approaches the boy at the beach wanting to introduce himself, but the aging lover turns around before pursuing the introduction.12. Tadizo becomes aware of Gustav’s awe for him. Tadizo smiles at Gustav curiously and Gustav secretly accepts his love for the boy.13. There is an illness going around in Venice. People are not to eat shellfish or produce or use water from the canals. 14. Gustav goes to a street show and is informed by the guitarist that the city is being disinfected to prevent the spread of the sirocco. The guitarist is questioned by hotel employees.15. The truth about the sickness leaks out.16. Gustav no longer hides his infatuation for the boy. He starts wearing nice clothes, jewelry, and makeup. 17. Gustav sees the polish family’s baggage piled up and finds out they are leaving after lunch that day. He walks to the beach to watch Tadzio for the last time. 18. Gustav collapses in his chair and dies later that day.
What do You think about Death In Venice And Other Tales (1999)?
When I was called out for teaching some provocative contexts in my "Strange Children" course this quarter, my supervisor came to my defense by saying, "Well, it's not like you're teaching Death in Venice, or anything." I had heard of Thomas Mann's novella -- and really enjoyed reading the obscure The Transposed Heads, which I consider a really masterful work despite some scathing criticisms to the contrary -- but had never read it. I headed to the library and checked it out right away. Would Mann prove to be more dirty and provocative than Alice's Adventures? Was it possible?Death in Venice is plenty provocative and dirty, alright, if your into affect theory. If you're a gender or sexuality theorist, however, I must say, it misses the mark somewhat. The story alarmed me much more for its depiction of feeling than it ever could have for its wispy, barely lukewarm invocation of pedophilia.After four pages of Mann's text I was struck by his fierce exploration of both hidden and blatant affect -- which occurs sometimes simultaneously. (In fact, I am determined to teach it as a course on emotion in literature.)The foreboding lifelessness that stretches itself out before Gustav Aschenbach's life can be summarized by a series of words/phrases that arise consistently or at key moments, such as: "red," "false midsummer," or "diseased city." But the "unchastity and fury of decay" that epitomizes Aschenbach's experience in Venice -- and with the sickly Polish "god" with whom he falls in love from afar -- is best articulated through Mann's overuse of adjectives that relate directly to rampant emotion and, conversely, emotionlessness.Feeling is a sense like smell. The graying legend Aschenbach is surrounded by smells (of hospital, gaiety, food, beach) that bring out depth of affect which runs the gamut of "sinister revels of emotion:" sympathy, fear, pity, hopelessness, desire, shame, elation, anxiety, satisfaction, etc.For Mann's protagonist, "passion is our exultation" but also his demise. Passion is the strong feeling of desire or excitement, but I am also reminded of the definition of passion from House of Leaves: "Passion has little do with euphoria and everything to do with patience. It is not about feeling good. It is about endurance. Like patience, passion comes from the same Latin root: pati. It does not mean to flow with exuberance. It means to suffer."Aschenbach's passion reflects both definitions: it is suffering and jubilation.Yet, despite the war of feeling that he locks in his aged body, he shows little external signal of such power until, on the day of his death, he heads to the salon to be made up in a fashion that reflects the grotesque fop whom he criticizes on the ship. The disease that finally kills him seems less the sickness of Venice from the Middle East (which reminded me somewhat of Bruges-la-Morte) and more the inevitable finale of emotion of this caliber.Death is the ultimate portrayal of patience.Is it, then, a useful symbol of passion? For Aschenbach, such seems to be the case.How beautiful.So beautiful, in fact, that I almost forgot about the Platonic "beautiful boy," that god Eros who catalyzes the war. Then again, Mann suggests that this war was raging before Tadzio comes along, doesn't he? I was inclined to toss Tadzio away.He is like the wine that brings out the flavor of an aged and beautiful cheese.
—Jenn McCollum
Prose style is superb. Top-notch writing skills and sentence structure for high impact. The plots are dynamic. I have read a lot and generally do not care for short-stories, but somehow these have so much quality packed into them that they shot up to the top of my list of all-time favorite author. In fact, I am writing a mystery series now and these short stories are one of my 5 go-to books for checking on writing quality. "Little Herr Friedeman" was my absolute favorite. I thought I was used to surprise endings until I read this.
—Ann L.
I've formed a book club in my neighborhood, and this is the selection for our next meeting, along with Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray. In this, my second time reading it, I was impressed by the readability of Mann's style. I was somewhat reminded of Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita, also about middle-age passion for adolescence, but without Nabokov's finely calculated irony that sets the author at just the right esthetic distance to avoid unpleasant complicity with the subject matter. I had the uncomfortable feeling in reading Death in Venice that, despite the disdain for the protagonist in the narrative, there existed an underlying empathy and identification with Aschenbach.Also in contrast with Lolita, Aschenbach has far less control over his situation, which is perhaps more realistic than Humbert Humbert's seeming ease in navigating the course of his seduction. Aschenbach is a fly in the web of a destiny of which he's only dimly aware. Most uncomfortable reading.
—Bruce
