Death in Venice

A few days ago during an awkwardly "long but not long enough" hiatus between classes, I ventured into the campus bookstore. I had no intentions of buying anything, but at the same time, if I found the right book for the right price I'd certainly consider it. And I found this 62-page classic for just two dollars. I went into it with no expectations and for the first half of it I was kind of disappointed. It may be a pretty short book, but it was also a slow one. And nothing was happening. The first half of the book can be summarized as follows: a famous author decides he needs to take a vacation in Venice, and thus, he goes to Venice. Fortunately, the book picked up a little in the latter half. An internal conflict was established and so was a changing atmosphere. I won't spoil what happens, but I mean, yeah, there's a death in Venice. Overall, I'd say I was moderately entertained. This is nothing you need to read, and the back cover's praise - "one of the most famous literary works of the twentieth century" - seems to be a complete overstatement. But it was still a quick and decent read. Allegedly, its much better in its original language (German). I guess Thomas Mann took great care to use every word and phrase to convey exactly what he wanted to, and naturally, not every meaningful bit of wordplay and linguistic art can survive the translation to another language. Several English translations of Death in Venice exist, and no two are even mostly alike. Whatever. The gist was there, and since I just don't think I'll ever be fluent in German, I suppose I'll never truly be able to appreciate Mann's original work. But I can live with that.