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A review by astroneatly
Death in Venice and Other Tales by Thomas Mann
challenging
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
I saw an actress reading Death in Venice in the movie “The Bagdad Cafe” which was hilarious. That movie was cracking me up, even Jack Valance made me giggle. Cause the humor was just so deadpan, and then I thought I’d go read it. I don’t have a lot to say, because as far as Thomas Mann goes, the text speaks for itself. I’ve run across discussions about Thomas Mann especially in books about music and opera. And back in 2020 when we were facing a major election and everything was going to hell, I was off reading Thomas Mann.
Anyway, all I really have to say is that I have always by some circumstance of my upbringing hated commercialism. Some part of me craves nationality that isn’t so caught up in what’s popular. Movies, for instance, I enjoy alot but I’m very picky too, because I can’t be pleased with the same faces, wealthiest of the wealthy, dressed in suits… I always lean toward obscurity I guess. And I feel like a foreigner in my own country, because where other people were happy with following their favorite icons and role models, I guess I just never picked up on it. Well, anyway…
I know too that I don’t really want to be an artist. And I don’t deserve love or life, and what is life without love? The cynicism that I’ve always expressed for everything under the sun puts me at a division between me and society. I don’t know what the word pretentious means, and I’m not really a snob. But I always looked at the people with like interests and nerding out together at things together and I could never see myself as one of them. I hardly have a pretext for living, when everything I’ve shunned as against my nature… sets me too far afield from the norm. I want eclecticism, not commercialism… Eh…
Anyway, all I really have to say is that I have always by some circumstance of my upbringing hated commercialism. Some part of me craves nationality that isn’t so caught up in what’s popular. Movies, for instance, I enjoy alot but I’m very picky too, because I can’t be pleased with the same faces, wealthiest of the wealthy, dressed in suits… I always lean toward obscurity I guess. And I feel like a foreigner in my own country, because where other people were happy with following their favorite icons and role models, I guess I just never picked up on it. Well, anyway…
I know too that I don’t really want to be an artist. And I don’t deserve love or life, and what is life without love? The cynicism that I’ve always expressed for everything under the sun puts me at a division between me and society. I don’t know what the word pretentious means, and I’m not really a snob. But I always looked at the people with like interests and nerding out together at things together and I could never see myself as one of them. I hardly have a pretext for living, when everything I’ve shunned as against my nature… sets me too far afield from the norm. I want eclecticism, not commercialism… Eh…