Venice

Overcast SeaAs a travel nouvella, Death in Venice makes wonderful use of the setting and landscape to establish the novel’s tone and illuminate the protagonist. Mann’s detailed and weighty landscape descriptions are symbolic of the plot arc and Aschenbach’s inner workings. At the beginning of the novel, Aschenbach travels to an Adriatic island before deciding to go to Venice. On the ship, Aschenbach longs for “fresh air, for a look at the sky. Surely it would clear over Venice…Yet both sky and sea remained turbid and leaden” (31). Already, Mann hints that Aschenbach’s “yearning for freedom, release, oblivion” will prove to be in vain (8). The image of the dark sea and sky evokes a feeling of confinement, entrapment. In a sense, Venice, too, traps Aschenbach in the middle of the book: Aschenbach wants to leave, plans to leave, regrets wanting to leave, and then cannot leave. Furthermore, Aschenbach’s internal conflict over his stay in Venice further torments him. When Aschenbach arrives in Venice, he first notices the beach, “all but devoid of people…and the sunless sea, which at high tide was sending long, low waves against the shore in a calm, regular cadence.” (42). Aschenbach hopes to escape “the humdrum routine of a rigid, cold, passionate duty” through traveling to Venice; however, he first notices the “calm, regular cadence” of the sea and the deserted, dreary beach (8). Throughout the novel, Aschenbach both dismisses his instincts about the unhealthy state of Venice and is dismissed by locals who do not want to induce paranoia. While reading the novel, I asked myself periodically if indeed, Aschenbach was overly paranoid or if the situation was indeed dire. Mann answered my question by continuing the menacing weather and landscape descriptions. One morning in Venice, Aschenbach awakens to note that the “weather had not improved…The wind came from the land. The sea was dull and calm, shrunken almost, under a pale, overcast sky, the horizon blandly close; the sea had retreated so far from the beach…A sudden despondency came over [Aschenbach]” (50). Might the image of the near horizon symbolize Aschenbach’s nearing death? Mann’s bleak landscape descriptions symbolize Aschenbach’s physical and psychological confinement and foreshadow the protagonist’s downfall. Despite his rigidity and over-exaggerated discipline, Aschenbach has high hopes for his travels to Venice at the beginning of the novella. Mann’s forebodings, though, are clear throughout the novella: his writing takes on an ominous tone through dark descriptions of Venice’s natural forces that foreshadow the protagonist’s eventual death.

Piazza San Marco: by JpL

Venice, Italy is one of the most improbable places I have ever visited. It is unbelievably beautiful and one cannot help constantly questioning, as my mother (from New Orleans) did, “How does this place exist? How is it still above water?” It certainly has managed to stay afloat for a very long time. The opposite of a city on a grid, Venice’s labyrinthine streets wind around the canals as if in an attempt to cause dizziness, but there is an odd order to it. Perhaps its small size aids an illusion of purposeful city planning, but we always felt at least slightly lost until we somehow ended up at our intended destination. J.B. Jackson generalizes the organization (planned or accidental) of towns and cities in the article “The Stranger’s Path.” I will not pretend to grasp his concept of the Stranger’s Path well enough to confidently apply it cities I know well (and there are certainly several I know better than Venice – I was there for only two nights). He does pay thoughtful attention to Venice in particular. Jackson acknowledges Piazza San Marco (St. Mark's Square), albeit slightly reluctantly, noting that despite its undeniable

beauty and social utility… it seems… that those who hold it up as the prototype of all civic (traffic-free) centers are not always aware of what makes it what it is. The piazza is not an area carved out of a residential district; its animation comes not from the art monuments which surround it; on the contrary, it is enclosed on three sides by a maze of streets and alleys whose function is almost exactly that of the Path. (27)

Often the best way to get around Venice is to wander. Aside from expensive gondola travel and the water cabs/busses that escort tourists around the city’s periphery, pedestrian traffic dominates Venetian transportation. The locals are friendly (in Italian) and the words “Piazza San Marco” are printed on buildings with arrows pointing in various directions. When we wanted to find it from our hotel, we essentially set off with the notion that we would find the famous plaza eventually. It was as if we were rats in a complex maze that featured a seemingly infinite number of possible paths to our destination. The tourist nodes were abundant. We followed signs, stopped for snacks, made a few purchases in Venetian glass and Italian leather shops. I photographed the signs, graffiti, food, and what appeared to be a McDonalds constructed before the Common Era. Mcdevecchio: by JpL We eventually made our way to the bustling San Marco. The architecture was magnificent and the view of the Grand Canal was breathtaking, as well as fitting with Jackson’s entry/exit node along the Path being a point of arrival for commerce, locals, and tourists. The hoards of people were outnumbered only by the pigeons. San Marco Dweller: i FEAR birds. i LOVE this little guy.Our long walk through Venice at least had the illusion of being a Stranger’s Path, leading us to this wonderful, crowded place. Jackson expresses frustration that, “the Mediterranean plaza… was never intended to serve… as a place of business” (27). Well, I’m pretty sure the café where we ended up sitting in order to take in the site charged more than we were even willing to pay. Still, the busy square started (or ended) with a vibrant body of water, was a seemingly unavoidable spot for transients to end up, and truly exuded vitality. Maybe Venice is made up of various Stanger’s Paths – I have yet to experience another city that enticed movement in such a mysteriously roundabout, yet purposeful manner.

For my Art of Travel, Spring 08 blog post about Venice, click on my photos or here: http://www.placeandliterature.com/node/6772

For my company's video channel based in L.A.'s version of Venice, Italy, Venice Beach, click here: www.venicethemenace.com

VeniceThomas Mann’s protagonist, Aschenbach, from his novel Death in Venice not only takes a physical journey from Germany to Venice, but also an emotional transition from a bridled and controlled man to a wildly passionate individual. The stories setting in Venice holds significance in that Venice embodies the seductive south which is in total opposition to Aschenbach’s harsh homeland of Germany. It can even be said that Venice is a representation of Aschenbach himself, and vise versa.

Venice stands out for its ability to reside over a lagoon, built and preserved by the mere will of man against the power of nature. Similar to Venice’s strength, Aschenbach believes that art is the victory of the determination over physical necessities and reverting to natural human instincts. Aschenbach explains that within both his life and his writing, powerful things are only able to be in existence if they defy hardship, fragility, distress,and fraudulence. For Aschenbach, art triumphs over all of these torments, just as Venice maintains itself over the wavering instability of nature below it. Aschenbach believes that he has achieved such successes with his writing.

On the contrary, despite its outer appearance of strength, Venice is sinking slowly into the murky marshes. One may also argue that the same is happening to Aschenbach as he falls prey to his sexual feelings toward Tadzio. As he tries to convince himself that his feelings toward Tadzio are purely intellectual, Aschenbach finally surrenders to his passion for the boy. Aschenbach releases all of his morals and his dignity, and gives in to desire.

Venetian Love Boats The second and third discussion questions deal with Aschenbach’s purpose in traveling to Venice. I think what draws this artist to the Italian vacation spot is just that. He wants a vacation. Like Port and the characters in “On the Road”, Aschenbach is just another writer confined by his surroundings. In Munich, he feels stifled and has the itching to move and just leave, temporarily. I see him in the beginning to be a recreational traveler, for he all he admittedly wants is a getaway, someplace new and fresh. Its interesting however, that fate has a lot to do with the travel in this piece of fiction. For, Aschenbach’s destiny was sealed when his luggage went instead to Como, making his decision to stay in Venice decided for him. This decision ultimately gives him more time to fall more deeply in love with Tadzio. Soon, Venice becomes a new home for Aschenbach, I would argue, for it inspires him to change. Venice is just the bystander associated with this change, however, for I would say that Tadzio is the obvious catalyst. Just because Venice happens to be the place where Aschenbach is able to be near Tadzio, it therefore becomes his new home by default. But I would go so far to suggest that Tadzio himself becomes Aschenbach’s new ‘centre’, in Cohen’s words, for he sets out to change his appearance and his perspectives just to please him. Thus, Venice was just a stage for his artistic and intrinsic romance. He never even really liked Venice, for its weather was unpleasant to his health, and its streets were confining and tourist ridden. The installment of the plague did not help situations. Through Tadzio, however, Aschenbach disregarded all of these troubles, and instead, enjoyed everyday fresh and new, delighting in his routine of new clothing and observation on the beach.