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Translated from the German edition by Martin C. Doege for Internet use. Death in Venice is a novella written by the German author Thomas Mann, first published in as Der Tod in Venedig. The work presents a great writer. Occasionally a book like Death in Venice speaks so enduringly to readers that it is translated not once but again, and sometimes again and again. This is as it.

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English translation of "Death in Venice" by Thomas Mann New pull request. Find File. Clone or download · first commit, 6 years ago . Death In Venice. Gustave Aschenbach - or von Aschenbach, as he had been known officially since his fiftieth birthday-had set out alone from his house in Prince. Download free eBooks to your Kindle, iPad/iPhone, computer, smart phone or .. ePub - Mobi (Kindle) - PDF - HTML .. Mann, Thomas - Death in Venice.

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Both seemed to favor a more or less American interpretation. I just realized that I have another translation, the one by David Luke that you mentioned earlier, Kalliope! When I have time, I should probably look and see what that translation is like in comparison I got the Vintage from the library. The page numbers aren't the same as the one being used by Kris and others but I can follow by the chapters. Jul 23, Kris wrote: Jul 24, And all those long philosophical conversations with dozens and dozens of references!

Moira wrote: And all those long philosophical conversations with dozens and dozens Oh well I know there's a great introduction which I want to read before the book. Hmmm, I'm just now reading Sue's post regarding no notes in the Everyman edition. Do any of the other translations have them?

It is the Woods translation, right? I haven't downloaded it, just found the site. I'm saving this Teresa. I will deal with all the conversions I have to do for epub later.

I already have the hardcover anyway and enjoyed that for Buddenbrooks. Thank you Teresa This is great for traveling, to have the eformat as well no ribbon, but less weight. I'll probably use it too at times, like for reading in bed. I'm reading a page leather hardcover right now and it's killing my hands at night. Eventually I'll do it. I just downloaded this, and while the cover indicates that is is the Woods translation, it is in fact the Lowe-Porter version in the text.

It is very confusing, but I checked it against my paperback copy and it is entirely different. I'm completely ignorant when it comes to theories behind what makes for a good transaltion vs a bad translation.

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Why does her translation seem to be held in such low regard? Is she mistranslating? Is she "breaking the rules" of translating texts? Ultimately, I would like to read the Woods translation and do a compare and contrast, but that is not going to happen anytime soon. Jul 25, Sue wrote: I also think there's an Afterword? I think that was bright yellow, not hot pink; apparently mixed it up due to sheer size I guess with Motorcycle Maintenance.

Dharmakirti wrote: I actually do like older translations a lot, but sometimes there's a real super-British Edwardian or even Victorian vocabulary that can be dreadful a lot of early Chekhov translations are just Bad about this. Aug 02, I haven't got the Lowe-Porter translation at hand. In his translation, does Lowe-Porter maintain the same sentence structure as our grand-master of the subordinate clause? This is Eros, the Divine. The Senses are the Forbidden Fruit. Overripe strawberries, already dragging us, with them, into irreversible decay.

The Abyss. View all 47 comments. Jul 25, Adam Dalva rated it really liked it. Odd novella about unrequited pederasty that, like so many novellas with their single themes and small casts, feels a bit overstretched. But there is reason this is still so widely read today curious how, unlike LOLITA, the subject of this book isn't as important as the theme when it comes to criticism: Mann's marvelous turns of phrase carry the day and his ruminations on the nature of creativity stand in wonderful counterpoint to Marcel's more spiritual realization near the end of Odd novella about unrequited pederasty that, like so many novellas with their single themes and small casts, feels a bit overstretched.

Mann's marvelous turns of phrase carry the day and his ruminations on the nature of creativity stand in wonderful counterpoint to Marcel's more spiritual realization near the end of LOST TIME.

But it also favors the wrongful, the extreme, the absurd, and the forbidden. Here, Mann achieves something extraordinary: Tight in on Aschenbach as we are, morality barely enters into the novella. Instead, in an autobiographical turn by Mann, we see the that repression and beauty often work in counterpoint. As the book accelerates toward its extremely foreshadowed ending, we get an especially good scene, as Aschenbach, who derides men who attempt to be younger than they are at the beginning of the book, dyes his hair and gets slathered in make-up in an attempt to please Tadzio.

It's a gorgeous moment of pathos, the clown at midnight soon after a night sequence with a clown , and it will stick with me. DIV is humorless, but you know that going in with Mann. This translation seemed good to me - I have the earlier one as well and when I compared them it wasn't particularly close.

View all 4 comments. Gustave Aschenbach or von Aschenbach, as the German writer has now been honored, at home, all is his fame , fortune , prestige Still in the early 20th Century, things aren't perfect, the weather is bad , the winds make him sick, the dirty canals, odious smells, and decaying buildings, are unsettling, not content, he decides to return to the nearby mainland His desires aren't successful, on the way, losing his precious luggage, he must go back, it will be uncomfortable, but he has no choice The beauty of this child, infatuates the tired , discouraged man, the despondency is lifted , a new life surfaces.

Every day Gustave, visits the beach, lies down on his flimsy chair, soaks up the Sun and watches the boy cavorting with other children, swimming in the shallow waters, skipping, dancing, playing, the writer likes the view, but is careful not to be observed, he has two pretty sisters, mother and a governess to deal with.

And the weeks slowly pass by, the contented tourist is happy just to be alive, no worries, only happiness permeates , sitting on the hot sand, the re- energized author , begins to follow the Polish family, around Venice, not being conspicuous, sneaking , hiding, walking in back alleys, never having the bravery to talk to Tadzio A quiet rumors is whispered , foreign newspapers say that a plague has arrived in the ocean city, malignant cholera, especially in the German periodicals, people from Germany and Austria , suddenly disappear from the premises, not believing the local authorities , denials An unusual novella from the great Thomas Mann, he got the idea, talking with his wife, in this very city, in , the story was published, a year after while vacationing in The Grand Hotel des Bains, on the Venetian island of Lido, in the fabled, Adriatic Sea..

View all 6 comments. Apr 12, Seemita rated it it was amazing Shelves: As long as we breathe, we live.

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We do not possess the power to embrace death at will. So, we live. And for living, we cling to a purpose. The purpose may be clear or clouded, animate or inanimate, expressed or hidden, stable or fickle but we have it nonetheless. Even the person accused of leading a purposeless life is surviving on the shredded purpose of vagrancy.

Nothing is a bigger curse for a writer than to have hit a plateau from where all the previous works appear a distant dream and the present air leaves nothing for the fertile imagination to latch on.

In search of this elusive purpose, after declaring many destinations unfit for ideation, he halts at Venice at a quaint hotel and opens the window of his room to the sea, inviting both its calmness and ferocity to wash his rusted mind panes with inspiring waves.

And the sea obliges, in the form of the ethereal Tadzio, who happens to be a guest of the same hotel as Gustav. The stunning beauty of this young Polish boy of golden skin, flowing locks, delicately-crafted ribs and carefree demeanour, first catches Gustav unawares and then, slowly like a persisting rain, fogs his mind panes with sensual dew.

From the day he sets his eyes on Tadzio, he gets transported to a new world where he increasingly finds just the two of them, talking about art and beauty, exchanging life wisdoms and sinking in the loving companionship of each other. But does this throbbing one-sided passion render a purpose to the debilitating parchment of his life or relegate it further to insurmountable lows?

Hold the hand of Mann to find out. And yes, he has a lot to say in this compact work. He also nudges us to consider the propriety of actions taken under the influence of relationships which, in the safety net of sanguinity, can deluge the delicate fabric of morality. He also presses us to weigh the artistic liberties in the light of societal approvals and take a stand.

For the striking questions and delicately coherent wordplay, I was about to give this work a rating of four. But Mann snatched the solitary star from my hand by playing this masterstroke: A dream where Gustav has donned the garb of Socrates and Tadzio, of Phaedo and the former is giving his life lessons to the young warrior of tomorrow. But do you believe, my dear Phaedo, that the one who reaches the intellectual through the senses can ever achieve wisdom and human dignity?

Or do you believe and I am leaving this to you that it is a lovely but dangerous road that leads nowhere? Because you have to realize that we artists cannot take the path of beauty without Eros joining us and becoming our leader; we may be heroes in our own way, but we are still like women, because passion is what elevates us, and our desire is love—that is our lust and our disgrace.

Do you see that poets can be neither sage nor dignified? We do not like final knowledge, because knowledge, Phaedo, has no dignity or severity: But he is legendary when he can turn a non-artist, artist. And I know Gustav, in the end, did both jobs well. View all 43 comments. The work presents a great writer suffering writer's block who visits Venice and is liberated, uplifted, and then increasingly obsessed, by the sight of a stunningly beautiful youth.

Though he never speaks to the boy, much less touches him, the writer finds himself drawn deep into ruinous inward passion; meanwhile, Venice, and fin Though he never speaks to the boy, much less touches him, the writer finds himself drawn deep into ruinous inward passion; meanwhile, Venice, and finally, the writer himself, succumb to a cholera plague.

The main character is Gustav von Aschenbach, a famous author in his early fifties who has recently been ennobled in honor of his artistic achievement thus acquiring the aristocratic "von" in his name.

He is a man dedicated to his art, disciplined and ascetic to the point of severity, who was widowed at a young age. As the story opens, he is strolling outside a cemetery and sees a coarse-looking red-haired foreigner who stares back at him belligerently.

Aschenbach walks away, embarrassed but curiously stimulated. He has a vision of a primordial swamp-wilderness, fertile, exotic and full of lurking danger. Soon afterwards, he resolves to take a holiday. View 2 comments. Nov 20, Darwin8u rated it it was amazing Shelves: But solitude also produces perverseness, the disproportionate, the absurd, and the forbidden.

I've been intimidated by Mann. He's a mountain. I own a bunch of his works, in various translations, but keep finding reasons to walk another road, skip ahead, fall behind.

For me he has sat waiting like a distant leviathan or like death. So, finding myself in a position where I really felt I could delay no longer, I started with his shorter work - Death in Venice. First, the introduction by Michael Cunningham is a fantastic introduction of the difficulties associated with translation.

All fiction is a translation. All works differ, since they all are impacted by writer and reader. Both imperfect, both carrying their own history. Even the same work, read by the same reader at different times think King Lear will be interpreted anew, feel different to the reader at different stages and ages.

So, it is with translations. Different translators are going to experience Mann's Death in Venice in different ways. Gustav von Aschenbach will appear the fool to some or an artist gripped by obscession and passion by others. There is no exactly right answer.

This book was probably a 4-star book for me, but I added the star because I really did like the Cunningham intro so extra-credit, why not? So, how was this translation? I don't know. I love the idea of Aschenbach's obscession overtaking him and ultimately perhaps? We all would be so lucky if our passions destroyed us, perhaps. So, perhaps, I am ready for Buddenbrooks: The Decline of a Family.

{DOWNLOAD} Bright Summaries - Death in Venice by Thomas Mann (Book Analysis) [PDF]

View all 9 comments. If you're into stuff like this, you can read the full review. We were able to read in class some excerpts from his main books: What I remember most from those texts was the extreme difficulty of understanding some p If you're into stuff like this, you can read the full review. What I remember most from those texts was the extreme difficulty of understanding some passages.

Another trait of his writing is his ability to write long and encapsulated sentences without losing meaning. View all 10 comments. Feb 27, Traveller rated it really liked it Shelves: Since the piece is well known as being a landmark work of fiction regarding male homosexuality, I am not going to focus on that in my review, or on its other element that has been flogged to death as well, being the rather extreme youth age 14 of the love object.

What a conflicting piece of fiction. The novella seems fairly divisive amongst critics, but one thing that I think most of us can agree on, is that the novella is a discomfiting piece of writing.

I suspect this was so for t Since the piece is well known as being a landmark work of fiction regarding male homosexuality, I am not going to focus on that in my review, or on its other element that has been flogged to death as well, being the rather extreme youth age 14 of the love object.

I suspect this was so for the author as well as for his readers. For me this was not because of how the protagonist's obsession affected his love-object, but because of how this obsession affected the protagonist himself.

I found out later that it was so in many respects, and the love-object is based on a real person. Most uncomfortable of all, is that the 'real' Tadzio, was the year old Wladyslaw Moes.

Achenbach, the protagonist, is a well-respected author, who, like Mann, tends to engage with political and intellectual issues in his work. Like Achenbach, Mann visited Venice, where he made the acquaintance of a young boy whose beauty he apparently admired; with the difference that Mann was accompanied by his wife and brother, while Achenbach was alone. Okay, there are a few other differences as well - and one pretty large one, but that's a spoiler.

We are wrong. The eyes and the face are the windows of the soul and these become more beautiful with the age and pain that life brings. Because I have long known that beauty is only skin-deep, I like those sentiments a lot better than: This was intoxication, and the aging artist welcomed it unquestioningly, indeed, avidly. His mind was in a whirl, his cultural convictions in ferment; his memory cast up ancient thoughts passed on to him in his youth though never yet animated by his own fire.

Was it not common knowledge that the sun diverts our attention from the intellectual to the sensual? It benumbs and bewitches both reason and memory such that the soul in its elation quite forgets its true nature and clings with rapt delight to the fairest of sundrenched objects, nay, only with the aid of the corporeal can it ascend to more lofty considerations.

Cupid truly did as mathematicians do when they show concrete images of pure forms to incompetent pupils: Some interesting thoughts there, though I disagree with the sentiments expressed in bold. Were these the thoughts of the protagonist, or the author himself?

From his notes, it would seem that these were actually Mann's own sentiments. They do seem a perfect rationalization for a man in Achenbach's position to make though, which makes them pretty fitting in their context, I must concede. Surely, it doesn't require too much contemplation to come to the conclusion that physical beauty does not equal spiritual beauty?

Death in Venice by Thomas Mann

One could muse that perhaps what Achenbach is rather saying, in what seems like a rationalization for his passion, that beauty can inspire love, the latter which is in itself beautiful. Methinks not - this could surely be but an infatuation of the senses. From the notes Mann made for the writing of the novella, it is clear that part of what he wanted to show, was that an artist an author like himself cannot be a dignified, purely rational creature, that he needs to be in touch with his passions and emotions, and that the act of creating art is inherently not a dispassionate activity.

Something else that Mann seems to be saying behind the scenes, is that love itself cannot be dignified, that love pushes an individual into undignified behavior.

Mann being a fairly obviously repressed individual, one can read a certain parallel between the disease that infects Venice, with Achenbach's almost insane passion insanity features in Mann's notes. Mann seems to see these homosexual pederastic impulses that one surmises he felt himself, as at the same time degrading and ennobling. Ennobling, so the reasoning seems to go, in the sense of that when a person degrades himself for love, it can be seen as a kind of sacrifice of dignity for a higher cause being, in this case, "love".

But one can only follow such reasoning if you can agree that a passion that seems so distant, unrealistic and physical can be ennobling and can be described as "love".

To put the matter in a slightly different context - make a small leap in your mind and imagine that the love-object here is instead a year old woman. If the latter was the case, would the scenario in DIV still be creepy? Indeed, it would. What would make the scenario still creepy? It would still be a purely physical obsession characterized by stalkerish behaviour.

So one ends up asking yourself how far selfishly and obsessively stalking someone can really be an expression of love? In fact, I was sort of visualizing an ending in which Tadzio dies of Cholera, and Achenbach is racked with guilt, possibly even driven totally mad with guilt hide spoiler ] Of course, when the object of your obsession is only 14 years old, not making contact can probably be seen as the nobler action to take than to make contact; and sticking to stalking behaviour is probably preferable to some potential alternatives.

In spite of my criticism of Mann's ideas and of his patches of overwrought, overemotional purple prose, the latter suits the subject of the story well, and there are certainly a lot of thought-provoking ideas and well-executed imagery.

Mann also displays keen insight into his characters. He portrays the aging, smitten homosexual well, and the dissolution of his personality via the intensity of his obsession is conveyed with pathos despite the relentless dissection under Mann's unnerving microscope.

Death in Venice

One feels torn between pity for Achenbach while at the same time suppressing a shudder at the creepiness of his stalking behavior - but Mann manages to make him look pathetic more than anything else. Mann also remarks on Tadzio's narcissism with acute insight.

According to The Real Tadzio: Thomas Mann's Death in Venice and the Boy Who Inspired It , the latter was indeed a pretty narcissistic person who enjoyed the attentions of older men, so Mann was pretty spot-on with his portrayals.

All-in-all, as with all good fiction, the novel leaves one with conflicted feelings. And, like all good fiction, it makes you roll around its various elements in your head, considering and re-considering; trying to find definite stances. The fact that the latter is so hard to do with this work of fiction, is a part of what makes it good fiction, whether one agrees with all of the specific ideas put forward by it or not.

The latter claims to be the most natural and most US-friendly translation out there, but these two translations appeared fairly similar to me.

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Aug 20, Kasia rated it it was amazing. How I'm I supposed to go back to normal life after having experienced glimpses of literary heaven? Thomas Mann, where have you been all my life? I'm confused, perplexed. What are those feelings?

The novella is powerfully intertextual, with the chief sources being first the connection of erotic love to philosophical wisdom traced in Plato's Symposium and Phaedrus, and second the Nietzschean contrast between the god of restraint and shaping form, Apollo, and the god of excess and passion, Dionysus.

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