Lotte In Weimar - Thomas Mann

Continuing my exploration of the works of Thomas Mann, I recently read his novel Lotte In Weimar, originally published in 1939.

This novel tells the story of a visit to Weimar by a woman who was the "muse" and inspiration behind the main female character in Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's novel The Sorrows of Young Werther. Charlotte has come to Weimar ostensibly to see her sister, but she becomes an object of fascination for the locals, and she has a reunion with Goethe himself.

The early chapters are very much consistent with some other Mann novels, with their vibrant and engrossing character, and their richness of detail. The passages which explore the closing stages of the Napoleonic Wars and the parallel political developments in Germany, and their effects on Goethe's family and social circle, are riveting. Conversations between Charlotte and a series of visitors serve as a fascinating examination of Goethe's personality, motivations and world-view.

Subsequent chapters were less appealing for me. Some space is taken up with a conversation which Goethe appears to have with himself, and which is delivered in almost a stream-of-consciousness manner. There are some nuggets of interest in there, though.  The narrative and the focus pick up again when the aforementioned Goethe-Charlotte reunion finally occurs.

Throughout Lotte In Weimar we see evidence of Thomas Mann's social and political concerns, largely told through the person of Goethe and others. The author's misgivings about developments in Germany during Mann's own time find echoes in a critique of  the upsurge of German nationalist sentiment during the early nineteenth century. The fact that this book was first published in 1939/40 must have furnished it with a contemporary resonance.  The political points are eloquently and sharply observed and outlined here.

So this is an intriguing and rewarding read, different in content and atmosphere to what I had anticipated.

Confessions Of Felix Krull - Thomas Mann

Thomas Mann has, in recent years, become one of my favourite novelists, perhaps rivalling only Hermann Hesse in my estimations. The prospect of reading Confessions Of Felix Krull was an enticing one.

Confessions Of Felix Krull is essentially the "memoir" of the eponymous character. Thomas Mann apparently intended to publish several volumes, but his death prevented these plans being realised.

The story is set in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Felix Krull is a young man from an affluent German family. However, the family falls on hard economic times. Following his father's death, young Felix goes out into the world, to make use of his looks, his wits, his charm and his burgeoning abilities as a con-man.

Much of the early going is taken up with an exploration of Krull's formative years, and how his personality and outlook on life came about.

Some of my favourite passages in the novel concern his time spent in Frankfurt. We gain an idea and an understanding of the social conditions of that time, and we also learn about some of Felix's often lurid adventures and liaisons in the big city.  Felix then moves to Paris to work in a hotel.

I would surmise that the majority of readers will not find the character of Felix Krull very sympathetic, and may conclude that he is downright irritating. Mann may have been writing with tongue-in-cheek, and at the same time making some gentle, and occasionally not so gentle, social commentary. Although the author could have admired some of the character's qualities and talents, I doubt that their respective world-views would have overlapped much.  We are, however, left to interpret or imagine how the writer would have appraised the world in which Krull operated.

The moral ambiguity of the main character is perhaps what makes this book a less rewarding read for me than some other Mann works. The "philosophical" elements seemed more superficial and there was less depth to the characters and the narrative. Maybe the (unwritten/unpublished) subsequent volumes might have redressed the balance in this respect? On the positive side, there are still many examples of Mann's aptitude for detail, imagination and scene-setting.

As this story was "unfinished", the ending to this novel might seem enigmatic or anti-climactic. Mann had set very high standards with some of his previous offerings, but his writing is always formidable, absorbing and invigorating. Very much worth one's time.

Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

In recent years, I have been most invigorated and energized by my acquaintance with some classic German literature, in the main Hermann Hesse and Thomas Mann and, I will say, finding it more stimulating and engaging than most of the work by English writers that I have encountered in the same period.

This process has also brought me into contact with the world of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and I recently read his novel Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship, which had been lurking unread on my Kindle for some little time.

I didn't weigh myself down by seeking to determine whether this was a novel of ideas, a philosophical novel, or a bildungsroman. I am in accord with those who have noted that it defies easy categorization.

Basically, the story follows the journey of the eponymous character, as he strives to escape a bourgeois career, and initially seeks to make a career as an actor. The tension between the bourgeois and the bohemian, the worldly and the spiritual, reminded me, superficially at least, of the works of Hermann Hesse.

Particularly to a modern reader, the story does not appear stunningly original, but it is so absorbing that this is largely immaterial. The characters discuss all manner of ideas encompassing art, literature, religion, politics, philosophy and human nature.  Wilhelm's interest in Hamlet and Shakespeare serves as a kind of peg for part of the way.

The discourse is given added authenticity because the novel was composed at the time when societal and cultural ferment was acute.  This is not some idealized, misty-eyed historical novel.  This sense of realism is accentuated by the fact that the ideas do not protrude forcefully from the narrative, but tend to blend quite seamlessly into the flow of the text.  I found this to be the case especially with the gentle commentary concerning the class structures of those times.

An intriguing aspect of this novel which recurs throughout is the scrutiny of the concepts of Fate and Destiny, as they were up against notions of reason and the idea of making one's own "luck". I related sharply to the parts of the story which stressed the value of falling back on something less exalted and fanciful, and of guarding against unrealistic aspirations in life.

Women play a prominent role throughout the story, especially assertive, educated females from affluent or intellectual backgrounds. I'm not sure whether Goethe was trying to make a point in this regard, but it does endow the novel with an added dimension, and was perhaps intended as subtle social commentary.

The opening chapters engender an immersive and stimulating atmosphere, and before long I found myself genuinely caring about many of the characters and their fortunes, and also identifying with their feelings and their dilemmas. Goethe does seem to have that facility to tug at the heart-strings, and it is displayed most pointedly in the passages which deal with Wilhelm's romantic and emotional entanglements and upheavals.  His alternating anguish and ebullience certainly struck a chord.

This is one of those novels which may reveal its true and full depth with repeated readings. The intricacies of the plot and the subtleties of the characterizations may thereby be more vividly illustrated. Importantly, it has some instructive things to say about how we should improve ourselves and enrich our lives, through activity and cultivating a curiosity about the outside world, rather than lingering in introspection.

Quite a long haul, this one, but a rewarding one, and I can readily see how it has been quite influential down the decades.

The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd - Agatha Christie

I must confess that detective fiction, or crime novels, have not featured that highly on my list of literary priorities over the years. However, the lure of Agatha Christie's work proved too strong, and I therefore recently sought out The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd, first published in 1926, and often cited as one of the most important detective novels of all time.

Almost as soon as I commenced reading the book, the thought struck me that its impact had been dulled by the fact that I had seen the British television adaption, starring David Suchet as Hercule Poirot, even if that adaptation differed from the novel in several respects. On the other hand, the small-screen version did assist me in my "visualizations".

The employment of a central character as "narrator" helps to give this story its distinctive feel. Again, the effect might be different, more pronounced, to those who are unfamiliar with the story in any format.

For me, the character of Hercule Poirot both irritates less and charms less when his idiosyncrasies emanate from the printed page. Even so, one can readily appreciate how Agatha Christie supposedly came to dislike the character, her own creation. I guess that modest, anodyne characters do not inspire strong emotions, or persuade people to read books. Perhaps the reader should develop a method of "tuning out" Poirot's less agreeable traits?

I should stress that my evaluation of The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd may have been coloured by the slant of my fiction-reading in recent times, which has tended to focus on meatier, "philosophical" fare, such as Hermann Hesse and Thomas Mann. So, when a sense of time and place, and historical perspective, seems largely absent, as with this novel, the natural reaction may be "what is all the fuss about?".  An adjustment has to be made, to accept things on their own terms, and to concentrate on the detective elements and the "human nature" angles.

The plot has some compelling elements. Suicide, blackmail, jealousy, resentment, avarice, deceit and of course murder.  The characters themselves are projected quite strongly in the novel, so that one acquires a reasonable understanding of their attributes and vices. The ending can be seen to fulfill more than one function. It surprises, especially to newcomers, but it is also left sufficiently enigmatic to leave some people wondering, and even proffering alternative, if sometimes fanciful, interpretations...

I did enjoy this book, but I wish earnestly that I had experienced it before I saw the television version. Its novelty and "shock" value was much diminished, I think. Repeated readings may alter my attitude, but it does surprise me a little that The Murder Of  Roger Ackroyd is revered to the extent that it is. I guess that opinions depend largely on the personal tastes and literary palate of the reader.

Despite the cleverness of the plot, and its gripping nature, I was not heavily engaged emotionally or spiritually. I was not left feeling inspired or emboldened, or moved by any sense of being uplifted or animated. I had finished the book, and that was pretty much that. It was an interesting and well-constructed novel, but its alleged status as a masterpiece was, I admit, lost on me, during this first encounter.

To my mind, there was little genuine examination of the motives behind the culprit's deeds, or of his underlying grievances, if he had any.  Also, the story is not really placed in any contemporaneous social context, in a way that could penetrate this reader's conscience and imagination. I would have recoiled at the callousness of the murderer, whilst simultaneously pondering any injustices or iniquities which might have been perceived to have fuelled the tragedy.

I think the message to me is either that I prefer pure crime stories to be audio-visual, or that glossy and atmospheric TV shows with lavish production values have tarnished or distorted my approach towards the crime novel genre....

Hermann Hesse - The Glass Bead Game

The works of Hermann Hesse have the rare capacity to force the reader to reappraise his or her attitudes to life and the world around them.

Of Hesse's novels, The Glass Bead Game, which I recently read for the second time, is one of the longest and most intricate, but the questions which it poses can be very readily distilled. The story basically revolves around the character of Joseph Knecht and his life of study and teaching.

Knecht enters the "pedagogic province" of Castalia, and becomes well-versed in the book's titular pastime, although a detailed knowledge or grasp of the game's niceties is by no means essential to an understanding or enjoyment of the novel.

Essentially, the theme of the novel is the tension between the abstract and the worldly, between the ethos of rarefied,contemplative study and that of the more "sordid" and instinctive life outside Castalia. This conflict, and the conclusions which spring from it, are explored with reference to the author's fascination with Eastern concepts of duality, transitoriness, renewal and rebirth. Certain characters in Knecht's orbit are held to be symptomatic of the existing set-up, or precursors of the future.

The heart of the argument, as I understood it, is to what degree "esoteric" academic and cultural pursuits such as the Glass Bead Game have any value for the real world, but equally how much such undertakings contribute to man's reason and enlightenment, bestow practical applications , and therefore lead to a more peaceful and just world.

Of course, this intellectual "elitism" was in effect subsidized by the man in the street. Such "luxuries" would clearly be jeopardized when emergencies such as war arose. As I deciphered it, part of the message here was that Castalia should try to inculcate Castalian principles and values in society proper.  This presumably on the theory that a more stable society would help to ensure the survival of Castalia in some shape or form, by nurturing a more conducive social and economic climate.

Some of the passages which ruminate about intellectual and cultural developments remind me of Thomas Mann. Some of this was tough going when compared to the purely biographical bits, but they are important in the overall.

The Glass Bead Game works on more than one level. It is easy to dwell on the societal ramifications of the Castalian set-up and its relations with the outside world, but the effects on individuals are equally pertinent. The suffocating impact of the secluded existence, being cut off from "real life", as well as the nagging sense that their talents are not being used for the general good, or indeed for an individual's own spiritual well-being.

An abiding trait of Hesse's writing is that he touches the very essence of life, our make-up and our equilibrium, the soul and what animates it. He makes such things seem so elementary and tangible, but also induces a yearning for self-discovery in those of us who have found the equilibrium elusive and troublesome.

The Hesse works regularly take place in remote settings or situations, but the characters are invariably wrestling with universal turmoils and concerns. Hermann Hesse has been a major influence on my life, and my outlook, in recent years.  Just a few pages are sufficient to rekindle that feeling of serenity and hope, like a reconnection with some semblance of love and truth, if only fleetingly.

In a broader way, the story supports the notion that we benefit from a change of scenery, encountering different people, points of view, and atmospheres, and that we should not prolong phases of our life which have begun to decay and pall, and should move on. Of course, this is easier said than done for most people, and most would not rationalize such impulses in the "exotic" manner favoured by Hesse. We should also try not to entirely estrange ourselves from things which appear alien.

My feeling is that Hesse relied on the sensitivity and perspicacity of his readers to constantly juggle these levels of meaning, and to discern them in the first place. Otherwise, his writing would not possess its unique flavour and vitality. What first drew me to Hesse, when my life had been to a dark place, was the weight placed on self-discovery and enlightenment.  But knowing what we do about the man, it is apparent that he had an eye for wider social commentary, in addition to chronicling the journeys of individuals, the latter often serving as metaphors for the former. Matters of some moment were indirectly addressed in a digestible and "non-threatening" form, but the point was undeniably there.

The Glass Bead Game is grandiose by Hesse standards, and the occasional geopolitical tangent is atypical of the author's usual approach. Its depth renders it more demanding and draining on the reader's faculties. Contained within The Glass Bead Game is a conventional Hesse novel, but it is more "fleshed out".

To some less discerning observers it might seem that the story "tails off" or fizzles out, but one must remember that this is not a conventional novel, Hesse had said what he meant to say, and of course the manner in which the main bulk of the tale concludes encourages the reader to assess the possible interpretations. A whole vista of possibilities should really open up.

Admittedly, this book does not quite leave me with the warm and buoyant sensations engendered with some other Hesse works, but this is counter-balanced by the amount, and variety, of food for thought which it serves up. Thoughts about ourselves, our place in the world, and our responsibilities.

Doctor Faustus - Thomas Mann - book review

After thoroughly relishing two of Thomas Mann's novels, The Magic Mountain and Buddenbrooks, I decided to move on to Doctor Faustus, published in 1947.

Doctor Faustus tells the life story of a fictional composer, Adrian Leverkuhn, through the narration of his friend Zeitbolm. The narration itself is delivered against the background of the unfolding horrors of the Second World War, allowing much scope for parallels with the time in which the events of the story actually occurred, and with the fate of Leverkuhn. The composer's fate or destiny are not blatantly employed as a direct metaphor for those of Germany, or vice-versa, but the implied comparison adds depth and lustre to the novel.

In the earlier chapters there is much musing on intellectual, cultural and socio-political matters. At first reading, these can seem like tangents or diversions, but they make sense in the end, both in terms of how the plot develops and in providing some background context on the times in which Leverkuhn, Zeitbolm and their contemporaries lived and worked. They serve too as indicators of how the composer was beginning to stand out from the crowd even in his formative years, in his outlook on life and culture.

In stating the above, I must confess to having found Doctor Faustus quite heavy going up until around the halfway point. Certainly when compared to the more "fluent" and accessible delights of The Magic Mountain and Buddenbrooks, it can feel like this one takes an inordinate amount of time to "happen". The writing style and language are more impenetrable and less flowing.The passages which abound with musical technicalities, theory and jargon may not be to everyone's taste. Concentration and persistence are required, but one is rewarded towards the conclusion, as the fog disperses.

My impression, rightly or wrongly, was that Mann (via the narrator) left the main aspects of the story, namely Leverkuhn's mental afflictions and his supposed pact with sinister supernatural forces, ever so slightly ambiguous, and up to the reader to weigh and interpret.

As with the other Thomas Mann novels which I have encountered, the characters have depth and plausibility, and the author goes to great lengths to illustrate and convey their traits and characteristics. As this story progresses, the social circle of the composer and his associates becomes more familiar and intriguing, more central to the narrative,  and there are a few notable sub-plots, which enrich and augment the picture considerably by vividly depicting the social mores and hang-ups of this artistic and academic "community".

So, not as immediately enjoyable as the other Thomas Mann novels which I have read, but an imaginative and stimulating piece of work, displaying all the hallmarks which make him such an important and powerful writer.

Buddenbrooks - Thomas Mann - book review

After finishing "The Magic Mountain", I was sufficiently enthused to immediately seek out Thomas Mann's first novel, "Buddenbrooks", published in 1901.

"Buddenbrooks" chronicles the fortunes, and gradual decline, of an affluent north German merchant family, and its social circle, during the nineteenth century. This is set against the backdrop of social and political changes in Germany and the wider world. The socio-political stuff is not at the forefront of the narrative, but it does form part of the fabric of the story, and the effects of change are occasionally evident in the dialogue between characters and their attitudes towards their elders or contemporaries. Possibly the most overt manifestation is in the chapters which address the upheavals and ferment of 1848.

One thing which "Buddenbrooks" exudes is evidence of diligent research and a grasp of the world in which such a family existed. This was a multi-faceted world, and it was rarely simply a case of one generation, or one social class, being at odds with another. The notion that all groups were moving in certain directions, as part of some uniformly seismic shift,  is quietly dispelled here I think.

Often the outlook of individuals was determined largely by their upbringing, their associations and their obligations within an extended family. It was still a world of deference, where people tended to "know their place". Many had no incentive to be worldly-wise or enlightened, because they were insulated, reliant on others, or did not truly own themselves. It was often only the disturbance of the equilibrium by some extraneous jolt which upset this "comfort zone".

The thought passed through my mind that although the social conventions which prevailed in those days were stifling, they also ensured a kind of stability and security - provided you were born into the right measure of prosperity and influence. It must be borne in mind that not all people enjoyed the privileges and the relative certainty of outcome of the Buddenbrooks.

The pivotal characters for me in the novel are Tom (Thomas) and Tony (Antonie). Both are superbly rounded and convincing creations, full of contradictions, flawed but also admirable. Their experiences and viewpoints form the backbone of the story as they struggle, sometimes in harmony, sometimes at odds, to keep things together.

Some of Tom's reflections are quite revealing. He appears to recognise some of the anomalies and injustices of the world in which he operates, but either can not, or will not, bring himself to confront them, partly because of the underlying need to "keep up appearances". Difficult decisions were avoided because of the tethers of loyalty and obligation. Set against this landscape, perhaps things were always going to change slowly.

Another character who I found captivating was "Hanno", the son of Thomas Buddenbrook, who showed little interest in his father's world of commerce, and instead found refuge in music and the arts. This invokes the age-old examination of the tension between the "bohemian" outlook and the bourgeois existence. Countless authors have explored this area, but it never gets old or tired.

The chapter set in Hanno's school provides a window on some of the emergent trends as the nineteenth century wore on, with some young people unwilling to subscribe unquestioningly to the ways and the values of their elders. Insubordination had always been there in some form, but were the new ideas of that time just more coherent and potent?

The one character who I found curious was "Morten", with whom Antonie has some contact quite early on in the piece. I was expecting him to return in a major way at a later stage, but he didn't.  He had some profound things to say in his brief appearances. However, when I think about it, the fact that he was something of a "red herring" actually enriches the overall.

Even though this novel could be seen as somewhat downbeat, in that it deals largely with decay and misfortune, I found it uplifting and moving, in its celebration of human foibles, the richness of life and the stoicism and resilience of people. For all its depiction of momentous social change, it is also quite simply a magnificent piece of story-telling.

On my first reading, I did not fully take in the significance and relevance of the author's unusually diligent concentration on the personal appearance, characteristics and mien of many of the characters.  Much symbolism to be savoured there, methinks.  That calls for a second reading of "Buddenbrooks", then....

The Magic Mountain - Thomas Mann

I have recently finished reading Thomas Mann's novel The Magic Mountain, originally published in 1924.

 

The story centres on the character Hans Castorp, who travels to a sanatorium in the Swiss Mountains, initially to visit his cousin, who is being treated there. However, Castorp himself soon falls ill, and ends up spending seven years in the institution.

 

Whilst in the sanatorium, Castorp is exposed to a diversity of intellectual, moral and philosophical viewpoints and pressures, and his curiosity on these questions is consequently aroused. He also becomes infatuated and obsessed with one of the female patients.

The novel is set in the early twentieth century, in the years preceding the First World War, and acts as a kind of snapshot of the European bourgeoisie at that time, their social mores and attitudes prior to an upheaval which would in some ways serve as a watershed. Some of the symbolism appears to touch on the forces and factors which brought about the catastrophe.

A constant theme throughout The Magic Mountain is the nature of time, and how people's conception of the phenomenon differs when they are in an "unnatural" environment such as that of a sanatorium, divorced from "normal" existence. Throughout the narrative the meaning of, and attitudes to, death are also a constant concern.

To me the Castorp figure is firstly portrayed as a little "green", perhaps the legacy of a sheltered early life, and although he comes under the tutelage of others in his new surroundings, he is also possessed of some innate savoir-faire and astuteness which bourgeois conventions and constraints would have prevented him from deploying in the "flat-lands". This latent perceptiveness is allowed to flourish.

Although the differences between life below and that in the sanatorium are highlighted, it can also be seen that some of the human relationships and behaviour in the mountain retreat are a microcosm of social dynamics everywhere.

New impetus is supplied by the introduction of the Naphta character, and his intellectual fencing with the humanist Settembrini. This brings me on to another pleasing aspect of The Magic Mountain, and that is the clever construction of characters.  They are distinctive but credible, outlandish but plausible, and generally do not conform to stereotypes.

It is refreshing to become immersed in a novel which does not concern itself with one central theme, or even a loosely connected set of themes. Some readers may even find that it takes a little time to adjust to this, but my advice is to just relax and let the story come to you.  Yes, Mann is trying to tell us things, but he is also telling us a story. Striving to see profound significance in every sentence will only impair one's enjoyment.

 

The story takes some unexpected but captivating twists, through Castorp's ski-ing expedition, his friendship with the Dutchman Peeperkorn, his continuing obsession with Madame Chauchat, the séances, the tragic duel between Naphta and Settembrini, to the final sequence, which follows the main protagonist's decision to volunteer for service in the war.

This is a challenging but highly stimulating and diverting read.

Death In Venice

Just recently, I have turned my cinematic attention more towards what may be termed European art cinema. I will be blogging my thoughts on some of the films which I have watched.

I had seen clips from Luchino Visconti's 1971 masterpiece "Death In Venice" before, and also have hazy recollections of seeing the film as a child. I was latterly turned on to the film by my interest in the music of Gustav Mahler, which plays a prominent role in it.

The movie is based on Thomas Mann's novel, and centres on an ageing composer, played by Dirk Bogarde, who decides to spend some time in Venice because of his failing health. Once there he becomes obsessed with a handsome adolescent Polish boy.

One of the most striking aspects of "Death In Venice" is the relative lack of dialogue throughout. Visconti opts to let the lavish visuals (sets and constumes, as well as the scenery) and the majesty of Mahler's music drive the story along.

Bogarde delivers a remarkable performance, possibly the zenith of his career.

The final scene is probably one of the most moving and poignant in all of world cinema, played out to the strains of "Adagietto", from Mahler's Symphony no.5.

"Death In Venice" is a feast for the senses, and less a film than a work of art. Stunning.