Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi

by Geoff Dyer

Book Overview

A New York Times Notable Book A Best Book of the Year: The Economist, The New Yorker, San Francisco Chronicle, Slate.com, and Time In Venice, at the Biennale, a jaded, bellini-swigging journalist... This description may be from another edition of this product.

• Format: Hardcover
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0307377377
• ISBN13: 9780307377371
• Release Date: April 2009
• Publisher: Pantheon Books
• Length: 296 Pages
• Weight: 1.25 lbs.
• Dimensions: 1.2" x 6.5" x 9.3"

Customer Reviews

Strange and marvelous diptych

Geoff Dyer is a clever writer all of whose books are studded with smart true observations that nobody else could come up with. And this book has a lot of bodily fluids and sex and drugs and stuff. Those two points out of the way, what can you look forward to here? A pair of novellas that contrast with each other and repeat each other and invert each other and mirror each other. The main character may or may not be the same person. It barely matters, as the notion of "the same person" is questionable in Varanassi, if less obviously so in Venice. Others have described the two novellas, one of which exposes hedonism somewhat redeemed by erotic obsession while the other examines the slow dissolution of self and will that overtakes the hero in Varanassi. But is the hero any less overtaken by dissolution in the first novella? And others have pointed out the parallels with Thomas Mann's Death in Venice. And the parallels between Venice and Varanassi. Hint: it's not just canals, or Amsterdam would have been one of the cities. There are many parallels between the two stories, ranging from the obvious (monkeys and bananas; drugs) to the less obvious. The real question is why did Dyer put the two novellas together? He gives us several hints, most pointedly in describing a photo exhibit in Varanassi where the photos derive much of their meaning from their juxtaposition. So there are two pleasures to be had here: enjoying Dyer's glorious writing and delicious humor, and figuring out the deeper pleasures that lie in the parallels between the two stories. Or are they one story? Warning: if you find dispassionate descriptions of drug-taking and detailed accounts of sex and explicit descriptions of filth and illness disturbing, this book is not for you. Second warning: if you find philosophical issues tedious in fiction, this book is not for you. But if you can tolerate the first and enjoy the second, you have a rare and memorable treat coming.

Profound and enjoyable, all you could want in a work of literature

disclaimer: I reviewed a free copy that I received as part of the "Vine" program. I enjoyed it, and I learned from it, and it made me think, as well as laugh, and I recommend it highly. The book is filled with many delicious, memorable, savorable, quotable moments, phrases, descriptions. And many of the "right names" are dropped, implying similar taste to my own (especially in music -- got to dig it when Pete Hammill, Peter Gabriel, John McLaughlin and Shakti, etc. are in the thoughts of the characters) In the 1st part, AKA the first of 2 distinct stories in the book, the protagonist is a journalist sent to cover the Biennal art scene in Venice, Italy. He mentions a bond, between people who understand that it is possible to be 100 percent serious and 100 percent ironic at the same time. If you're one of those people (like me, and the characters in the book), you're in this already. The second part of the book, the 2nd story, is narrated by a journalist sent to write something about Varanasi, India (AKA Benares). I don't THINK this journalist in Varanasi is the same person as the journalist in Venice, but they are both creations of the same author, and they do share some common sort of perspective and outlook on life, though perhaps at different stages of awareness. What is the connection between the 2 parts of the book, interesting in its vague indefiniteness? Two stories, both of which stand entirely on their own. But maybe connected. Maybe not. Very interesting, as a literary foil of possibility. The blurbs and reviews suggest that the first-person narrator, of the Varanasi story MAY be the protagonist of the Venice story, linked by several hints and clues. But no, I don't think so, not LITERALLY -- Gives you something to puzzle over, a game to play, noticing the clues that sort of link the 2 stories, while you enjoy the scenery and the observations and the anecdotes and the dialogue. The only overt obvious connection between the 2 stories (aside from the book's title) is this: in Venice, a girl tells a guy that she's going to Varanasi. Then in Varanasi, a different girl asks a different guy if he's ever been to Venice. Oh and you find out later, if you read the end notes, that 1 or 2 lines of dialog, uttered by the guy in the 2nd story, in Varanasi, are actually quotes from Thomas Mann's "Death In Venice" ... Conversely, the main male protagonist in the 1st story, in Venice, is named Jeff Atman, and "Atman" is a Sanskrit term, used in Hinduism (Hinduism, which is a profound presence and focus in the 2nd story, in Varanasi) to identify the true self (according to Wikipedia)... Another fun link: the guy in the Varanasi story, after he gets sick, eats mostly bananas. A girl tells him he looks like a monkey, eating one. And in the Venice story, a different (I think) guy and girl, sitting outside on a bridge in Venice, are eating bananas, and the girl tells the guy he looks like a monkey, eating one... I was greatly enjoying the Venic

water offerings

Geoff Dyer has quoted a line from Kerouac that deftly captures the subject of his diptych: "It's my contention that a man who can sweat fantastically for the flesh is also capable of sweating fantastically for the spirit." Both of the protagonists in these two humid stories are perpetually thirsty and parched. Think of them as beggars, extending their bowls out to the world, waiting for them to be filled.And though they lust in different directions, they are certainly prodigious sweaters! If the sex scenes in Vienna don't drive the reader to want to take a cold shower, the filth on the streets of Varanasi undoubtedly will. Both protagonists seek immortality, the first in a hedonistic ego-fueled romp of sensual greed at the Venice Biennale; the other in a kind of hallucinatory death of self on the banks of the Ganges in Varanasi.At first glance, one thinks of the duality of mind/body or sense/spirit as being quite opposite, and I thought that Mr Dyer was going to take me to India to cure my Italian hangover from all those lines of coke and bellinis.I was awaiting enlightenment and elevation. What I got from this book was therefore unexpected and more profound. Lust, whether expended on sensual experience or spiritual enlightenment leads to the same sort of delusion.Nothing lasts, all is impermanent. It is good to be reminded how silly the aspirations of humans can be. I loved the images of these messy human activites being staged on the shores of the dark, slow inscrutable movements of water. There wasn't much difference between the successive/endless pile of bodies being burned in the Ganges, and the present state of fecklessness in the world of Art. The writing was witty and crisp, and I thought it had depth without being ponderous or weighty. The reader floats along, enjoying the ride.

ganoona

this book is a marvel. it goes down like the finest of wines, and leaves you giddy, giggly, and drunk on words, travel, place, self, desire, meaning, and meaninglessness. it leaves you full of questions that only lead to more questions. if you get frustrated by the lack of answers, plot, or clear themes, prepare to be frustrated. on the other hand, if you want to treat yourself to a sublime literary treat, i recommend this book most highly. it is astoundingly well written, accessibly so. i also want to throw in the word zeitgeist, in that it seems deeply resonant of the times. it is also extremely funny. i leave you with a favorite example: "Walking in the lanes behind the ghats, I came across a man pushing a barrow in which he seemed to be carrying some kind of gourd. Squeezing by him, I realized that what I had taken to be a pumpkin were actually his testicles. Swollen monstrously by disease, they had become unsupportable and it was his destiny to lug them around in a wheelbarrow. Everything in Varanasi was taken to a delirious extreme. In Europe we had the myth of Sysiphus and his stone. In Varanasi there was the fact of this man and his balls."

Original and Erotic

Dyer, Geoff. "Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi: A Novel:", Pantheon, 2009. Original and Erotic Amos Lassen The Biannale in Venice comes every two years and the art world goes to Venice for its opening. Jeff Atman, a journalist, loves the Biannale but this time he has to write a story and this could weigh upon his party going. Then he meets Laura and he becomes wildly happy and their romance moves quickly. However as quickly as it happens is it destined to disappear. The novel then moves to Varanasi, India on the Ganges River, a spot that fills with pilgrims daily, Varanasi is the holiest of cities to the Hindu religion. A stranger suddenly appears at the site and we are not sure if this is Jeff Altman or not, This man had only planned to come there for a few days but he ends up staying for months. What he finds there is himself in the guise of an previously unexamined idea of who he is. He also sees pleasure in the form of what he has already given up. What is the relationship between Venice and Varanasi? Both are ancient and both depend on water. Is it possible that the two stories we have here actually be one story and could they be the same story? This is a novel that is totally original and is an exploration of eroticism and spiritual desire which seems to take ideas from Thomas Mann's "Death in Venice" but written on a different level. Instead of Mann's classical composer, Dyer gives us a hack journalist who is jaded. As Mann's Aschenbach was obsessed with the youth, Tadzio, here Laura is the object of obsession--a carnal and hedonistic obsession. On the cities of Venice and Varanasi, the question lays with the reader. Nothing is clearly spelled out and the timeline is nor necessarily set as to which happens first. As the search for love and existential meaning is the theme, how do we know what is really going on? Dyer is quite the thinker here and his style is graceful and sublime. He gives us a look at empty lives which should resonate loudly with all of us.