Some brilliant classics never age. Their eternal conflicts remain relevant and their complexity is sufficient to provide a challenge with each reading. Death in Venice is one of those.

In this novella, Mann investigates the battle between the mind and the body, the head and the heart, the noble and the savage. Gustav von Aschenbach, an aging writer, has dedicated his life to intellectual pursuits, living each day on the highest plane of a carefully-controlled artistic and spiritual life. But a sudden desire for the exotic takes him to Venice, where his life of dignity and restraint falls away. Caught by lust in a climate of decadence and disease, he is helpless to resist the lure of hedonism that finally spells his doom. ( )

Published on the eve of World War I, a decade after Buddenbrooks had established Thomas Mann as a literary celebrity, Death in Venice tells the story of Gustav von Aschenbach, a successful but aging writer who follows his wanderlust to Venice in search of spiritual fulfillment that instead leads to his erotic doom. In the decaying city, besieged by an unnamed epidemic, he becomes obsessed with an exquisite Polish boy, Tadzio. 'It is a story of the voluptuousness of doom,' Mann wrote. 'But the problem I had especially in mind was that of the artist's dignity.'

I struggled with this short story and might have given up on it if it had been longer, but I enjoyed the images of Venice. I read only "Death in Venice" (not the other stories). ( )

A literary achievement with the psychology of Tolstoy and a Greek commitment to the story itself; and that is not the only thing about this book that is 'Greek'. A treatise on Death, Life, Sex, Desire, and Fear which is both enticing and terrifying, and for the self-same reason.

Here is the face of wretched animal man, teeth bared and cloudy desperation mocking the vision. Mann's most succinct and powerful images and meanings are always reversed, for the sense that the raw and brutal emotion herein is become feral is mitigated by the fact that it is twisted back upon the self as only such a morally indistinct, labyrinthine mass may so twist.

Eminently pleasing and disturbing, this battle between the barely-restrained Epicurean and the resignedly Absurdist meets the latter's comic fruition in the former's faux-tragic inaccessibility. ( )

I think that the way they find each ather is intresting because it was a long time before they got together. ( )