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A review by haoyang
Death in Venice and Other Tales by Thomas Mann
For those interested in Thomas Mann: https://campuspress.yale.edu/modernismlab//?s=thomas+mann&submit=Search
Thomas Mann is really shaping up to become one of my favourite writers!
All the short stories were memorable and hit close to home.
I think there are two factors which stand out for me when reading Mann -- his writing style and the themes he tends to write about.
Mann's writing style is lucid, humorous, tragicomic, and ironic (non-exhaustive list of adjectives), being at once cerebral and full of sensibility. Take the ending of 'Little Herr Friedemann' for example:
'He dragged himself on his stomach further down the slope, lifted the upper part of his body and let it drop into the water. He did not raise his head again; even his legs on the bank lay still.
The splash had silenced the crickets for a moment. Now they began their chirping as before, the park rustled softly and down the long avenue came the muted sound of laughter.'
Here, Mann expresses in such brevity the emotional devastation experienced by the rejected lover while maintaining a critical detachment which introduces the element of tragicomedy, making it possible for the reader to sympathise but also to laugh at the protagonist. For the horribly insecure (applying to Mann, his protagonists, and the reviewer), such an approach is as natural as it gets.
I have often thought about how we need writers, artists and musicians for the unassailable fact that there are people who are much more articulate than the average person; while most of us feel the itch to write, to draw, to compose, we could benefit from accepting that there are works of art out there which already express what we want to express in the most sublime way possible.
Mann does it for me.
In his short stories, he explores such relatable themes as the Self v.s. the Other (being an outsider), Self-Doubt and Insecurity, Life v.s. Art, Rationality v.s. Sensuality (the classic Apollo/Dionysus dialectic), and forbidden love. Once again, this list is not exhaustive.
Throughout all of the short stories I read, I believe an overarching similarity is the use of an antihero who is marked by a flawed and at times delusional perception of himself and of the people around him (as aesthetes are no doubt prone to), and who eventually acts on those perceptions to his mortification. Mann builds his protagonists up, giving us access to their thoughts and feelings, only to casually undermine and abandon them entirely at the end. This is partly facilitated by his use of free indirect speech, and the shifting back and fro of focalisation from the protagonist to the narrator. This, as David Luke remarks, can be seen in the use of a shadowy narrator-figure with a distinct viewpoint in Tristan.
Brief overview of short stories:
Little Herr Friedemann had a perfect ending and that image of Friedemann drowning with his legs still on the river bank is one I will never forget.
The Joker, being the only story written in first person, was highly relatable and I especially liked the protagonist's reflections on the importance of self-respect.
'To have lost one's self-respect: that is what unhappiness is. Oh, I have always known that so well! Everything else is part of the game, an enrichment of one's life; in every other form of suffering one can feel such extraordinary self-satisfaction, one can cut such a fine figure. Only when one has fallen out with oneself and no longer suffers with a good conscience, only in the throes of stricken vanity -- only then does one become a pitiful and repulsive spectacle.'
The Road to the Churchyard follows a bitter bachelor on his way to the churchyard, during which he pathetically curses at a youthful boy riding a bicycle on the gravel road (which he was not apparently not supposed to). Once again, the ending image of him collapsing at the end and being carried into an ambulance with such precision as though it were a 'pantomime' is one for the ages.
Gladius Dei was the weakest story for me because the religious subject-matter, inspired by the Dominican prior Girolamo Savonarola's rebellion against the neo-pagan cult of sensuous beauty in Lorenzo de Medici's Florence, was not particularly relatable. Nevertheless, the story was short and sweet, and also gripping. 'May the sword of God come down upon this earth, swiftly and soon!' Indeed!
Tristan is another woefully hilarious story, and the most memorable incident is probably the protagonist, Detlev Spinell, writing and having the post service deliver a delusional and uncharacteristically assertive letter to someone who was just in the neighbouring room, only to lose his daring when the recipient confronted him afterwards, instead choosing to correct his trivial linguistic errors to feel in control. This story is great for approaching the life/art binary as the protagonist is clearly on an extreme end here (aesthete, divorced from reality). Also, the Tristan und Isolde episode is a highlight.
Tonio Kroger is Mann's favourite short story (he likes it the most and he thinks it's the most well-written) but it was the weakest one for me. Nevertheless, I appreciated the gay puppy love section (sad it got swiftly replaced with a heterosexual romance) which reminded me Kai X Hanno from Buddenbrooks; on a side note, I'm beginning to think Mann had a uniform (or specifically a sailor-uniform) fetish. In this story, Mann also deals with the tension between Life and Art/Intellect, as Kroger is a struggling writer who continually pines for vitality, in the form of Hans and Inge and more archetypically the blond and blue-eyed Aryan. In the ballroom, Kroger only observes as the 'Hans' and 'Inge' dance, being a wallflower or simply an outsider. The way Kroger feels an attraction to things he does not have and which he may never have really hit home for me; consider this sentence: 'In it there is longing, and sad envy, and just a touch of contempt, and a whole world of innocent delight.' According to David Luke, 'Mann and Kroger are identified in the new position of a still distanced but reconciled outsider', with 'Art and Intellect [no longer being] at open war with ordinary existence, but sentimentally [and] unhappily.'
And finally, Death in Venice! This was the hardest to read because of the classical allusions (that Phaedrus allegory) and I had really high expectations of it but I was honestly not let down. The tale explores the Apollo/Dionysus dialectic by following a reputable writer as he succumbs to his primal desires and begins preying, albeit from a distance, on a teenage boy. I loved the back and froing of Aschenbach as he battled with himself whether or not to leave Venice; I loved the sustained tension as it is gradually revealed that there is a plague in Venice; I loved, most of all, the ending. Aschenbach is hopelessly delusional, suspecting that the boy returns his feelings, and right at the end, as Tadzio stands ankle-deep in the sea with his hands on his hips and he turns to look at Aschenbach, the irrational pedophile thinks he is being beckoned to and takes a step towards him, only to collapse and die anticlimactically.
Thomas Mann is really shaping up to become one of my favourite writers!
All the short stories were memorable and hit close to home.
I think there are two factors which stand out for me when reading Mann -- his writing style and the themes he tends to write about.
Mann's writing style is lucid, humorous, tragicomic, and ironic (non-exhaustive list of adjectives), being at once cerebral and full of sensibility. Take the ending of 'Little Herr Friedemann' for example:
'He dragged himself on his stomach further down the slope, lifted the upper part of his body and let it drop into the water. He did not raise his head again; even his legs on the bank lay still.
The splash had silenced the crickets for a moment. Now they began their chirping as before, the park rustled softly and down the long avenue came the muted sound of laughter.'
Here, Mann expresses in such brevity the emotional devastation experienced by the rejected lover while maintaining a critical detachment which introduces the element of tragicomedy, making it possible for the reader to sympathise but also to laugh at the protagonist. For the horribly insecure (applying to Mann, his protagonists, and the reviewer), such an approach is as natural as it gets.
I have often thought about how we need writers, artists and musicians for the unassailable fact that there are people who are much more articulate than the average person; while most of us feel the itch to write, to draw, to compose, we could benefit from accepting that there are works of art out there which already express what we want to express in the most sublime way possible.
Mann does it for me.
In his short stories, he explores such relatable themes as the Self v.s. the Other (being an outsider), Self-Doubt and Insecurity, Life v.s. Art, Rationality v.s. Sensuality (the classic Apollo/Dionysus dialectic), and forbidden love. Once again, this list is not exhaustive.
Throughout all of the short stories I read, I believe an overarching similarity is the use of an antihero who is marked by a flawed and at times delusional perception of himself and of the people around him (as aesthetes are no doubt prone to), and who eventually acts on those perceptions to his mortification. Mann builds his protagonists up, giving us access to their thoughts and feelings, only to casually undermine and abandon them entirely at the end. This is partly facilitated by his use of free indirect speech, and the shifting back and fro of focalisation from the protagonist to the narrator. This, as David Luke remarks, can be seen in the use of a shadowy narrator-figure with a distinct viewpoint in Tristan.
Brief overview of short stories:
Little Herr Friedemann had a perfect ending and that image of Friedemann drowning with his legs still on the river bank is one I will never forget.
The Joker, being the only story written in first person, was highly relatable and I especially liked the protagonist's reflections on the importance of self-respect.
'To have lost one's self-respect: that is what unhappiness is. Oh, I have always known that so well! Everything else is part of the game, an enrichment of one's life; in every other form of suffering one can feel such extraordinary self-satisfaction, one can cut such a fine figure. Only when one has fallen out with oneself and no longer suffers with a good conscience, only in the throes of stricken vanity -- only then does one become a pitiful and repulsive spectacle.'
The Road to the Churchyard follows a bitter bachelor on his way to the churchyard, during which he pathetically curses at a youthful boy riding a bicycle on the gravel road (which he was not apparently not supposed to). Once again, the ending image of him collapsing at the end and being carried into an ambulance with such precision as though it were a 'pantomime' is one for the ages.
Gladius Dei was the weakest story for me because the religious subject-matter, inspired by the Dominican prior Girolamo Savonarola's rebellion against the neo-pagan cult of sensuous beauty in Lorenzo de Medici's Florence, was not particularly relatable. Nevertheless, the story was short and sweet, and also gripping. 'May the sword of God come down upon this earth, swiftly and soon!' Indeed!
Tristan is another woefully hilarious story, and the most memorable incident is probably the protagonist, Detlev Spinell, writing and having the post service deliver a delusional and uncharacteristically assertive letter to someone who was just in the neighbouring room, only to lose his daring when the recipient confronted him afterwards, instead choosing to correct his trivial linguistic errors to feel in control. This story is great for approaching the life/art binary as the protagonist is clearly on an extreme end here (aesthete, divorced from reality). Also, the Tristan und Isolde episode is a highlight.
Tonio Kroger is Mann's favourite short story (he likes it the most and he thinks it's the most well-written) but it was the weakest one for me. Nevertheless, I appreciated the gay puppy love section (sad it got swiftly replaced with a heterosexual romance) which reminded me Kai X Hanno from Buddenbrooks; on a side note, I'm beginning to think Mann had a uniform (or specifically a sailor-uniform) fetish. In this story, Mann also deals with the tension between Life and Art/Intellect, as Kroger is a struggling writer who continually pines for vitality, in the form of Hans and Inge and more archetypically the blond and blue-eyed Aryan. In the ballroom, Kroger only observes as the 'Hans' and 'Inge' dance, being a wallflower or simply an outsider. The way Kroger feels an attraction to things he does not have and which he may never have really hit home for me; consider this sentence: 'In it there is longing, and sad envy, and just a touch of contempt, and a whole world of innocent delight.' According to David Luke, 'Mann and Kroger are identified in the new position of a still distanced but reconciled outsider', with 'Art and Intellect [no longer being] at open war with ordinary existence, but sentimentally [and] unhappily.'
And finally, Death in Venice! This was the hardest to read because of the classical allusions (that Phaedrus allegory) and I had really high expectations of it but I was honestly not let down. The tale explores the Apollo/Dionysus dialectic by following a reputable writer as he succumbs to his primal desires and begins preying, albeit from a distance, on a teenage boy. I loved the back and froing of Aschenbach as he battled with himself whether or not to leave Venice; I loved the sustained tension as it is gradually revealed that there is a plague in Venice; I loved, most of all, the ending. Aschenbach is hopelessly delusional, suspecting that the boy returns his feelings, and right at the end, as Tadzio stands ankle-deep in the sea with his hands on his hips and he turns to look at Aschenbach, the irrational pedophile thinks he is being beckoned to and takes a step towards him, only to collapse and die anticlimactically.