Thomas Mann Books

Mann and Ornstein's "The Broken Branch" already needs an update to catch up on all the dysfunction since 2006. Congress' inability to accomplish much of anything is explained fairly well here, though the book is at its best when it offers the history of the Congress instead of the brief highlights it offers on more recent news events such as the attempt to change the filibuster rules (the so-called nuclear option), Terry Schiavo, and the multi-hour Medicare Part D vote.

A missing piece is a thorough discussion of the the consolidation of policymaking power in the Executive Branch. Congress has not only lost power due to a lack of institutional knowledge or partisanship, but also as a result of the President's increased budgeting authority, large staff, and regulatory powers since the 1930s.

Another weakness is how much time Ornstein and Mann, who are both excellent scholars of Congress, spend talking about their own efforts at reform. Reading the book, you would think there had been no reform efforts unless Ornstein and Mann were behind them. That seems unlikely despite their influence on the hill and the respect many have for them.

As stated above, it is time for an update to the story to include the two years of dysfunction since the 2006 election. The Republican minority has run roughshod over the Democratic majority, using procedural techniques to grind Congress to a halt and practically force Democrats to adopt the same practices they decried when in the minority. Part of the problem is just a philosophical difference. Democrats never let Congressional business grind to a complete halt because they believe in the power of government to create change. Republicans, broadly speaking, do not really care if an appropriations bill passes so they are happy to put Congressional business on hold endlessly. Mann and Ornstein offer no solution for this, and the only one might be a more active and engaged citizenry.

There are, of course, good people on both sides who want to reform Congress and keep the policymaking process running smoothly, but the current system is set up to be adversarial, money intensive, and leadership driven. Not a recipe for success unfortunately. As a partisan Democrat and former hill staffer, I probably share part of the blame as part of the problem, and this book and the current inability of Congress to do much of anything is a grim reminder of that.

This book is important. When you realize how much power Congress has and how little they have been doing, and how little institutional responsibility everyone on Capitol Hill seems to have, you will begin to fear that America may be on the start of a downward slide.

I want a job, where by I can inform the boss, when I will work, how long I will work, and what my benefits will be. When I will go on vacation, how many vacations I will take per year, and how long said vacation will be. Oh yes I want to enform my employer what my salary will be, when I get a raise, and what that amount of that raise will be.

I will refuse to meet with any of my employers, I will only meet with "Lobbists," and I will never discuss a pending law with my fellow law makers, and any and all significant laws will only be voted on in the dead of night to keep my employers in the dark.

I will spend most of my time in Washington chasing dollars so that I can keep this very wonderful job. You know I have to be able to tell my employers what a good job I am doing so that they will return me to my position, in two years, or maybe give me a promotion.

A dream job, and the title you would have would be "Congressman," or "Congresswoman." Oh did I mention I would be jetted around the world at the expense of Exxon, DuPont, or General Motors? How good is that? The really good part is it will not cost me one thin dime.

Besides, my employers are stupid. They do not keep any checks and balances on my activities, and care not what lie falls out of my mouth. I can dilute the powers and responsibilities of my office, "The War Powers," as an example. Once we are in a war, I can relenquish oversight of a few idiots who happened to have joined the military and may loose their lives, is not my concern, because that may get in the way of my "Dollar Chasing." Besides I can just rubber stamp what ever the president wants, look busy, and that keeps him happy. No one will rat on me because we are all doing it together. And I do not have to worry about the news media, because they are too busy smelling after Brittney Spears.

The good life, you think? All I can say is we get what we deserve. We as Americans do not keep ourselves informed, we will not pick up a newspaper, and definately not a book so that we know what is happening to our freedoms, or our nation. Well here it is all laid out for you the author has done the hard part, now all you have to do is read it.

Solutions are offered up here as well, but they too are as about as useless as udders on a bull, if we the people pay no attention.

I read this after I saw one of the authors interviewed by Chris Matthews who spoke of the quality of the text. The author had obviously been 'around the block' a few times in Washington and it is clear he not only knows Congress's procedures but he knows the players as well. The author does a remarkable job of explaining how legislation is crafted and how deals are put together often in the 11th hour to 'insure' the outcome of the vote. Much discussion, often critical, of how Congress has failed on both sides of the aisle gives the book a very non-partisan feel. You sit back and hope that somehow this thing is on cruise control, because with more and more human intervention, things just seem to be getting worse.

This book, though purporting to expose abuses of the legislative process in the House, is lacking in a number of areas. Its substance suffers from an obvious rush to get to print prior to the 2006 midterm elections. It could easily have been written as a less profitable and more concise essay.

There is very little history of the Houses's storied past. The book is best when it differentiates between abuses of the Democrats in the majority in the past, and the Republicans in their 12 year reign. The Medicare prescription drug vote stands out.

That vote, however, does not stand out as much as the author's naivete in their own dealings with Congress. While working on a House study group, formed by the Democrats to help improve the operation of the House, the authors actually inserted in the report that the Democratic house leadership was "arrogant."

The authors then appear to be taken aback that they were called to a meeting of House chairmen who didn't appreciate that characterization of their leadership. Regardless of whether true or not, their characterization of the leadership not only could have been more diplomatically stated, it needn't have been stated at all. Such naivete raises the question as to how effective the authors can actually be in their declared mission to fix a broken branch.

This is the kind of political book all too often found in the public domain these days. It was rushed to print to address a contemparary issue that will fade into history. it won't even meet President Bush's criterion as a footnote. It will not serve as a good primary source for historians.

It also spends too much of its time in discussing the authors's self-laudatory attempts to "reform" Congress. These days self-promotion seems to be required material for books whose existence drifts between contemporary journalism, history, and "expert" commentary.

Mann and Ornstein's "The Broken Branch" already needs an update to catch up on all the dysfunction since 2006. Congress' inability to accomplish much of anything is explained fairly well here, though the book is at its best when it offers the history of the Congress instead of the brief highlights it offers on more recent news events such as the attempt to change the filibuster rules (the so-called nuclear option), Terry Schiavo, and the multi-hour Medicare Part D vote.

A missing piece is a thorough discussion of the the consolidation of policymaking power in the Executive Branch. Congress has not only lost power due to a lack of institutional knowledge or partisanship, but also as a result of the President's increased budgeting authority, large staff, and regulatory powers since the 1930s.

Another weakness is how much time Ornstein and Mann, who are both excellent scholars of Congress, spend talking about their own efforts at reform. Reading the book, you would think there had been no reform efforts unless Ornstein and Mann were behind them. That seems unlikely despite their influence on the hill and the respect many have for them.

As stated above, it is time for an update to the story to include the two years of dysfunction since the 2006 election. The Republican minority has run roughshod over the Democratic majority, using procedural techniques to grind Congress to a halt and practically force Democrats to adopt the same practices they decried when in the minority. Part of the problem is just a philosophical difference. Democrats never let Congressional business grind to a complete halt because they believe in the power of government to create change. Republicans, broadly speaking, do not really care if an appropriations bill passes so they are happy to put Congressional business on hold endlessly. Mann and Ornstein offer no solution for this, and the only one might be a more active and engaged citizenry.

There are, of course, good people on both sides who want to reform Congress and keep the policymaking process running smoothly, but the current system is set up to be adversarial, money intensive, and leadership driven. Not a recipe for success unfortunately. As a partisan Democrat and former hill staffer, I probably share part of the blame as part of the problem, and this book and the current inability of Congress to do much of anything is a grim reminder of that.

This book is important. When you realize how much power Congress has and how little they have been doing, and how little institutional responsibility everyone on Capitol Hill seems to have, you will begin to fear that America may be on the start of a downward slide.

I want a job, where by I can inform the boss, when I will work, how long I will work, and what my benefits will be. When I will go on vacation, how many vacations I will take per year, and how long said vacation will be. Oh yes I want to enform my employer what my salary will be, when I get a raise, and what that amount of that raise will be.

I will refuse to meet with any of my employers, I will only meet with "Lobbists," and I will never discuss a pending law with my fellow law makers, and any and all significant laws will only be voted on in the dead of night to keep my employers in the dark.

I will spend most of my time in Washington chasing dollars so that I can keep this very wonderful job. You know I have to be able to tell my employers what a good job I am doing so that they will return me to my position, in two years, or maybe give me a promotion.

A dream job, and the title you would have would be "Congressman," or "Congresswoman." Oh did I mention I would be jetted around the world at the expense of Exxon, DuPont, or General Motors? How good is that? The really good part is it will not cost me one thin dime.

Besides, my employers are stupid. They do not keep any checks and balances on my activities, and care not what lie falls out of my mouth. I can dilute the powers and responsibilities of my office, "The War Powers," as an example. Once we are in a war, I can relenquish oversight of a few idiots who happened to have joined the military and may loose their lives, is not my concern, because that may get in the way of my "Dollar Chasing." Besides I can just rubber stamp what ever the president wants, look busy, and that keeps him happy. No one will rat on me because we are all doing it together. And I do not have to worry about the news media, because they are too busy smelling after Brittney Spears.

The good life, you think? All I can say is we get what we deserve. We as Americans do not keep ourselves informed, we will not pick up a newspaper, and definately not a book so that we know what is happening to our freedoms, or our nation. Well here it is all laid out for you the author has done the hard part, now all you have to do is read it.

Solutions are offered up here as well, but they too are as about as useless as udders on a bull, if we the people pay no attention.

I read this after I saw one of the authors interviewed by Chris Matthews who spoke of the quality of the text. The author had obviously been 'around the block' a few times in Washington and it is clear he not only knows Congress's procedures but he knows the players as well. The author does a remarkable job of explaining how legislation is crafted and how deals are put together often in the 11th hour to 'insure' the outcome of the vote. Much discussion, often critical, of how Congress has failed on both sides of the aisle gives the book a very non-partisan feel. You sit back and hope that somehow this thing is on cruise control, because with more and more human intervention, things just seem to be getting worse.

This book, though purporting to expose abuses of the legislative process in the House, is lacking in a number of areas. Its substance suffers from an obvious rush to get to print prior to the 2006 midterm elections. It could easily have been written as a less profitable and more concise essay.

There is very little history of the Houses's storied past. The book is best when it differentiates between abuses of the Democrats in the majority in the past, and the Republicans in their 12 year reign. The Medicare prescription drug vote stands out.

That vote, however, does not stand out as much as the author's naivete in their own dealings with Congress. While working on a House study group, formed by the Democrats to help improve the operation of the House, the authors actually inserted in the report that the Democratic house leadership was "arrogant."

The authors then appear to be taken aback that they were called to a meeting of House chairmen who didn't appreciate that characterization of their leadership. Regardless of whether true or not, their characterization of the leadership not only could have been more diplomatically stated, it needn't have been stated at all. Such naivete raises the question as to how effective the authors can actually be in their declared mission to fix a broken branch.

This is the kind of political book all too often found in the public domain these days. It was rushed to print to address a contemparary issue that will fade into history. it won't even meet President Bush's criterion as a footnote. It will not serve as a good primary source for historians.

It also spends too much of its time in discussing the authors's self-laudatory attempts to "reform" Congress. These days self-promotion seems to be required material for books whose existence drifts between contemporary journalism, history, and "expert" commentary.

Although his very name is synonymous with notoriously long novels such as "Buddenbrooks" and "Magic Mountain", Thomas Mann was prorific short story writer,too. he worked diligently and very punctually in quite disciplinary manner. Of course, above mentioned two book are true essense of his long literary life.However "Death in venice" and other short story that included in this book can be extremely helpful jumping point to explore this great but complext human being. There have been many authors whose works are basically nothing other than narration of their lives. But , in my humble opinion , no one could possibly surpass Thomas Mann. All his works are closely related to his reflections, experiences and his miseries( many might know what I mean),perhaps that's way he so merticulously kept his diary and put all his minute thought without self censoring .Among his numerous works, none are so confessional than "Tonio Kroger" and "Death in Venice". It is well known fact that "Tonio Kroger" was Thomas Mann's favorite work , despite there have been many severe critics , including his own son Golo Mann. Golo Mann, who was a prominent historian wrote unforgettable book on "Wallenstein", remarked on this work " the most terrible work among my father's works and also the worst short story in the 20th centry German literature". In addition to Golo Mann's invective to his own father, there have been numerous critics who , in my opinion, severely disparage "Tonio Kroger". There are not many works that bring almost bi-polarized reaction from readers. Please judge yourself. It's worth it.
In addition to "Tonio Kroger", perhaps most famous Mann's short story " Death in Venice" is also highly recommened to read. the works will cause some outrage, disgust or utter boredom. But, it is unequivocally supreme work of art that should be free from scathing attack from both dilettanttes and philistines. other short stories are also fairly interesting works . "Mario and the Magician" , that show Mann's penetrating insight of the nature of Fascism, "Tristan", the work of cruel irony and grotesque humor,and "Felix Krull" , story that represent how Mann irony targetting himself.
Overall, the book delivers memorable experience.

The book was shipped really late and that bothered me. I needed it for class, and i got it three weeks from the day i bought it.

The long novels of Thomas Mann can prove challenging, not unlike those of Henry James. Fortunately, this varied collection - Death in Venice and Seven Other Stories - offers an easier way to become acquainted with Mann's intellectual, psychologically complex literature.

Thomas Mann's lengthy sentences and complex grammatical structures markedly complicate the task of translation. H. T. Lowe-Porter's translation is considered the most accessible version, although at the expense of subdividing many of Mann's sentences. (For comparison with an excellent literal version, look at Stanley Appelbaum's translation of Death in Venice, Dover Publications, 1995).

Death in Venice and Seven Other Stories was first published by Vintage Books in 1954. My edition was printed by Vintage International in 1989; it has neither an introduction nor explanatory notes.

Death in Venice (1911): While vacationing in Venice, the aging, highly respected author Gustave Ashenbach becomes mesmerized by a young boy staying at the seashore with his Polish aristocratic family. Although intellectually aware of his growing obsession, Ashenbach is unable to break away. This somber portrayal of a troubled man is a masterpiece of subtle nuances that illustrates Thomas Mann's ability to create layers of meaning.

Tonio Kroger (1903) is perhaps more biographical as it explores a writer's internal conflict between his desire to be accepted, that is to fit in to a bourgeois life, and his contradictory need to follow his artistic temperament wherever it might lead him.

Mario and the Magician (1929) is more explicitly political, depicting in the guise of an unscrupulous hypnotist a Mussolini-like character. The ending of this intriguing account is a surprise.

The setting in Disorder and Early Sorrow (1925) is Munich, less than a decade after World War I, amid rampant inflation and social upheaval. The narrator, Professor Cornelius, is saddened by the loss of tradition, exemplified by modern art, music, and dance forms so popular with his older children, now young adults. He finds refuge in his study of history. Early sorrow refers to an incident involving his five year-old daughter, Ellie.

A Man and His Dog (1918) is personal, humorous, and almost idyllic, quite different from the more serious topics addressed in the other stories in this collection.

The Blood of the Walsungs (1905) is the most disturbing story in this collection. The two key characters exhibit an aristocratic arrogance and elitism that culminates in incest. In an opera scene Mann draws a close parallel between his two protagonists and Siegmund and Sieglinde in Wagner's Die Walkure.

Tristan (1902) has been described as a retelling of the legend of Tristan and Isolde set in a sanatorium. Detlev Spinell, a tuberculosis patient staying in the Dr. Leander's medical facility, becomes infatuated with another patient, Herr Kloterjahn's wife. Spinell is a largely unsuccessful writer, one that has difficulty relating to others.

In Felix Krull (1911) the narrator is a self-serving, unscrupulous, amoral, confidence man that is somehow likeable. The story ends abruptly, leaving the reader wondering what happens next. Forty years later Thomas Mann resumed work on this story and in 1954 he published the novel The Confessions of Felix Krull, a light, often hilarious account of a man who wins the favor and love of others by enacting the roles that they desire of him.

Thomas Mann was born in Germany in 1875. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1929. He left Germany in 1933, living primarily in Switzerland and the United States until his death in 1955.

This is my first time reading Thomas Mann, save for the few excerpts that appear in college literature studies. Thomas Mann is notorious for his lengthy sentences and his never-ending novels, so I picked this as a gentle introduction to his works.
Even just flipping through the short stories will give an impression of how versatile and varied Mann's writing styles could be. Death in Venice, while being his most famous work in this book, is also one of the more difficult ones to read. This was Thomas Mann at his best - his sentences, long and tortuous, rolls through the imagination paragraphs at a time. Felix Krull, on the other hand, is short and succinct, with almost a feel of modern satire permeating through it.
The translation reads pretty clean and straightforward. While this probably probably loses a bit of feel in terms of grammar and structure of the sentences, Mann's styles and the suitability of the German language to this task means that a direct translation would have less flow and may seem cumbersome.
Overall I would say this is a nice illustration of Mann's literary prodigy, without overwhelming those who are not yet initiated into reading his full-sized novels.

Thomas Mann wrote "Death in Venice" in 1911. The protagonist, formerly a self-controlled and respectable public figure, gives himself over to obsessively stalking a 14-year-old boy for whom he has erotic feelings. While these feelings would be unacceptable to most people in our era, it is still difficult for us to appreciate the degree of condemnation they would have attracted when this story was written. Yet, Sigmund Freud had published The Interpretation of Dreams a decade earlier, and German intellectuals like Thomas Mann were aware that censurable urges lurk beneath conscious notice within all of us. Through this story, the author was surely struggling to come to terms with his own homoerotic urges. Judging from what he wrote, these were deeply troubling to him: corruption, decay, and condemnation are the themes he presents to us. While the images conveyed through this story are repugnant and shocking, the writing is beautiful and affecting.

Several of the other stories in this volume are of similar quality, and similarly deal with troubling themes ("Mario and the Magician," "The Blood of the Walsungs"). Yet, Mann was also capable of an extended and sincerely felt appreciation of the more benign and wholesome aspects of our world ("A Man and His Dog").

These stories are worth reading and re-reading. Thomas Mann won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1929, and these stories, if not Nobel prize quality, at the very least show Mann to be an engaging and entertaining writer.

"What human beings have fought for and stormed citadels, what the ecstatics exultantly announced -- that is not to be. It will be taken back. I will take it back."

"I don't quite understand, dear man. What will you take back?"

"The Ninth Symphony."

"Yes ... we are lost. That is to say: the war is lost, but that means more than a lost military campaign, in fact it means that *we* are lost, lost is our substance and our soul, our faith and our history. It is over with Germany; ... an unnamable collapse, economical, political, moral and spiritual, in short, all-encompassing, is becoming apparent, -- I don't want to have wished for what is looming, because it is despair, it is madness."*

Thus, the narrator of Thomas Mann's last completed and, I think, greatest novel sums up Germany's fate after the barbarities of national-socialism. But this is no mere character speaking: This is Mann himself -- the erstwhile self-proclaimed "Unpolitical Man," condemned to watch the Nazi tyranny's horrors from the distance of his Californian exile, taking up the mighty pen that had gained him his Literature Nobel Prize and, through the voice of a narrator named Dr. Serenus Zeitbloom (in itself, supremely ironic comment on Mann's own circumstances) composing his final reckoning with the country he left when the Nazis came to power, and where he never returned to live, although he finally did leave the U.S. in 1952, driven out by McCarthyism.

According to his diaries, as early as 1904 Mann had the idea of using a composer's temptation by the devil (and thus, updating the Faustian legend, *the* quintessential theme of Germany's cultural history at least since the Middle Ages) to illustrate the corruption of art by evil. Seeing the country's intoxication with the glorious promises of Hitler and his henchmen, seeing all of German society fall under the spell of evil, including the "Bildungsbürgertum," the educated middle class considering itself guardians of Germany's cultural tradition (and for whose acceptance the dark-haired merchant's son without a university education struggled throughout his life, much as they bought his books), reviving that idea first conceived forty years earlier was a logical choice; now further inspired by the personalities of Arnold Schoenberg, whom Mann met in exile and whose twelve-tone scale became that of his novel's protagonist Adrian Leverkuehn, and Friedrich Nietzsche, with whose writings and personal fate Mann had been fascinated early on. Philosophically and musically, the novel is also influenced by critical theorist Theodor Adorno, with whom Mann entertained an in-depth epistolary dialogue.

Blending together musical theory, the decline of humanist philosophy, the rise of fascism and the powers of black magic (most of which Mann had already explored in earlier works like "The Magic Mountain" and, very pointedly, in the 1930 short story "Mario and the Magician"), "Doctor Faustus" is thus simultaneously a comment on the political developments, a warning, an attempt to come to grips with Germany's high-flying, yet so easily destructible philosophical and moral compass - and, masterfully construed though it is, a cry of despair in the face of utter madness. For while the novel is brimming with references to the better part of German (and European) cultural history, from the medieval "Faustus" tale to Goethe, Weber's "Freischuetz," Martin Luther, Protestantism, and Thuringia and Saxony as focal points of all things German, Mann's central point remains the parallel between his country's fate and that of his novel's protagonist, both ending in ruin and madness-induced stupor after their deal with the devil has run its evil course.

Unlike Goethe, who places his Faust's temptation at his tragedy's beginning, leaving no doubt about the event's physical reality, Mann even narratively lifts Leverkuehn's temptation into the realm of allegory and imagination, by splitting it into two incidents, whose combined effect will only come to fruition in the novel's final part. On neither occasion Zeitbloom, the narrator, is present; for both we thus have only Leverkuehn's own words. Yet, even the first account, a letter describing how the would-be composer is mischievously led to a brothel and falls under the spell of a prostitute, already intimates the evil to come, the venereal disease that will later constitute the outward cause of his madness; and not only does Leverkuehn ask his friend to destroy that letter, he also closes it imploring him to pray for his soul.

Much later in the narrative -- although indicating that it was actually written earlier; thus employing yet another level of (temporal) abstraction -- Mann introduces Leverkuehn's transcript of his exchange with the devil; a dream-like sequence during which shape-shifting "Sammael," in language hearkening back to Goethe and even the Middle Ages, promises Leverkuehn nothing short of "the metamorphosis of a god": that by his name a whole generation of "receptively healthy boys"* will swear, "those who thanks to [his] madness will no longer have to be mad themselves;"* and that, indeed, his name will live forever. Still, at this point we have already witnessed Leverkuehn explaining the foundations of his twelve-tone scale, only to be challenged by Zeitbloom's question whether the strictness of his concept doesn't deprive the composer of all freedom (which Leverkuehn denies, rather seeing the composer as "bound by a self-imposed order, hence free").* And when in an exchange laden with symbolism Zeitbloom then presses whether the formation of harmony wouldn't be left to chance, Leverkuehn's response is, "Rather say: to constellation"* -- thus squarely introducing, as his friend will quickly note, concepts of black magic, which in addition to the dialogue's musical and political references again drive home Leverkuehn's exposure to the irrational and evil, long before the reader actually learns about his interview with the devil.

Doubtlessly among Mann's most intimately personal works, "Doctor Faustus" is also among his most complex ones; and while hardly any of his writings make for a leisurely read, the sardonic "Felix Krull," the near-humoristic "Royal Highness" and even his early masterpiece "Buddenbrooks" are foils to the older master craftsman's rapier that is drawn here. Demanding, certainly -- but also highly recommended!
_______________________________

*Translation mine.
_______________________________

Bob Zeidler, in friendship and grateful memory of an exchange that partly inspired the above. Bob's comments thereon are sorely missed.

Thomas Mann was one of the greatest writers of the 20th century and this was his last and perhaps his greatest novel. Reading it is a daunting challenge as it merges history with philosophy and religion with music history and composition. This novel requires great concentration. Sustained reading is however greatly rewarded. I am still mulling over much that is in this novel. Written and presented against the backdrop of the closing years of World War II and the horrors of Nazi Germany, the novel is also clearly a statement against Hitler and the Nazis, and Mann from exile was a determined opponent of the Nazis. A very important work of literature on several levels!!

Thomas Mann combines classical music, philosophy, social commentary, and fiction all in one impressive monumental work. This is a complex and time consuming read from the great writers and a Nobel laureate: Paul Thomas Mann (1875-1955), German novelist, short story writer, and social commentator. If you expect to finish this book and understand it, be prepared for a test of will power: you versus the author. It took me over two weeks to read it, maybe three. Was it worth it? I am still not certain, but it was an interesting novel. The book is very complicated, so complicated in fact, that Mann has second book out in which he describes the ideas he had in writing Dr. Faustus.

To quote another source, the following is a short description of the overall theme:

"The novel is a re-shaping of the Faust legend in the context of the first half of the twentieth century and the intellectual, moral and spiritual destiny of Germany and Europe in that period."

This is one of Mann's deeper works. For example, it is far more complicated than Magic Mountain. Here he uses ideas of of Goethe, Nietzsche, and Schopenhauer, then makes a fictional story based on the life of a composer, Adrian Leverkühn. He uses this vehicle to describe the downfall of German culture in the twentieth century - to the time of the writing of the book in the 1940s. He intertwines politics, religion, morality, and music.

The story is about a fictional German composer named Adrian Leverkühn as told by Serenus Zeitblom. Leverkühn has a complicated career as a composer including an unfortunate early infection with a venereal disease, and then a brilliant career followed by eventual destruction. How does he do it and what does it all mean? You will have to read it to understand the story and what Mann is trying to tell us.

The book is set in southern Germany, south of Munich, but has a different feel and a very different set of characters than Magic Mountain. Also, there is a high degree of complexity and sophistication in Mann's detailed descriptions of the composer's music.

An monumental work but not for the casual reader: 5 stars.

In Doctor Faustus, arguably his greatest book if not the greatest book ever, all of Mann's formidable gifts come together. Lying at the heart of Mann's concern is the central figure of Adrian Leverkuhn, theologian turned composer. In him all the warring impulses, all the contradictions of our age are focused. "Cold" by nature, inclined to mathematics and to "speculate the elements" as scientists do, he yet craves the freedom and unrestraint of art, specifically music, the most demonic of the arts. But the fearful complexities of modern composition and his own innate coldness form an insuperable barrier, he needs something to kindle him to his destiny as a great composer. This turns out to be the Devil, who in a memorable interview heavy with fate offers him a quick way out of his difficulties.

The book teems with unforgettable images. To pick a few at random: the extended description of Adrian's sojourn in the Italian countryside, where he meets the Devil and his fate is sealed; the wintry excursion to the Bavarian Alps; the vision of the children in the choir singing a motet to Adrian, bedecked with rubies on their fat hands while little yellow worms crawl from their nostrils down into their chests in the finest diabolic style. The density and vividness of Mann's imagery, its capacity to fill the mind and linger there, is Shakespearean.

Mann's treatment of his characters is sensitive, fine-grained, subtly ironic, and humanly engaging, with much wry humor. The amazing chapters dealing with Schwerdtfeger's vicarious wooing of Marie Godeau for Adrian, the piling up of layers of meaning and subcontext (including the latent homosexuality that runs like a provocative thread throughout Mann's writings), amount to a virtuoso performance whose incredible, sustained brilliance is rivaled only by Joseph's interview with Pharaoh in Joseph and His Brothers, also by Mann. Those readers who complain that the narrator Serenus Zeitblom is a tedious boor, that the other characters are lifeless cardboard cutouts, and that nothing ever happens, simply haven't gotten to first base with this novel.

What then is the problem? It is one that Mann himself wrestled with and which for a time led him to consider the work a failure, although he was determined to finish it. The problem is that the story cannot just unfold naturally and tell itself. A certain amount of history, of context, is needed to motivate the character of Adrian Leverkuhn; readers must be made to understand why the problems he wrestled with are not peculiar to him but arise inevitably and are universal -- in short, our problems as well. This context-building necessitates a rather long, abstract, and careful development. With his daughter Erika's help, the original manuscript was cut extensively to leave only the most essential material, but even so this development occupies the first third of the book. Anyone interested in Western history will find it fascinating, while those who aren't will be richly rewarded for persisting, for the narrative pace, at first imperceptible, does pick up and toward the end becomes irresistible, like the final running out of the sand in Adrian's hourglass.

Given that Adrian's concerns are ours as well, what are we to do about them in our own very different age? What meaning does the concluding high G on the cello in Adrian's final work, that abides like a light in the night, hold for us? When we strip away all the inanity, futility, and trash of our era, what is left? Not art, alas, for art is a finite store that has been exhausted. But there is science, which is unlimited and inexhaustible, and it is specifically the scientific aspect of Adrian's nature, his tendency to "speculate the elements", that is meaningful for us. Modern biology now offers the prospect of understanding and manipulating the essence of life itself. Will it just be more "devil's juggling", more falling down in the dust to worship the quintillions, from which Zeitblom protested nothing human can ever emerge? Can man be trusted to resist temptation in carrying out such a program? Can the devil and the humane even be separated from this vital substance? No one can tell us, yet the essence of the problem is already fully present in symbolic form in Doctor Faustus. This is the triumph of Mann's representative art, of the Artist way. As we continue on the precarious, ever-changing path of self- and world-discovery, Mann's book stands as a guidepost and a warning. This is the enduring significance of Doctor Faustus and the reason why it will always be with us for as long as we remain recognizable as a species.

All of these stories were written when Mann was in his early twenties, and he always felt he would never surpass them. It is not hard to see why; they are suffused with the intensity and bitter-sweetness of despair that only youth can bring. By turns tragic and comic, the dark corners of Venice shall linger in the mind long after you have turned the page.

I know two Germans, both of whom read a great deal- one of them taught the language to me for two semesters; the other I know via the internet. Each of them seems to have very different ideas about their own culture. For instance, one insists that Goethe is over-rated and should not be read; the other promises me that he is the bedrock of that countries literature. Who to believe? I'm still trying to make my mind up...

However, both of them insisted that I read Thomas Mann.

They couldn't have been more right. To you, the potential reader, I want to pass on that advice: read Thomas Mann. Read him and reread him and study him. Do it with this book, the Bantam publication translated by David Luke.

Thomas Mann had an intelligence about his writing that can only be appreciated fully firsthand. This is not light material by any stretch of the imagination but neither is it so dense that it can't be understood or gotten through. The fact is that its perfect; it sits just right in your mind, beckoning you on page by page, intricately constructing the internal rhythm of its characters and their dilemmas in such a way that you find yourself hypnotized, pouring through the pages then digesting those over a period of several weeks as the moods he has created stick with you. The material haunts you; it grabs hold of your imagination in such a way that a deep footprint will be forever left.

Take the story of `Tonio Kruger' for example. Inside the material there are repetitions which occur, turns of phrases that are presented in happy times, then echoed later to recall to the reader, albeit almost subconsciously, those earlier moments. These little flourishes in the language are the craft of a man who took his work very seriously, presenting the writing as well as the subject as part of the experience. Anyone who has read Flaubert knows what pains some authors take in this striving for the bon mot; Mann is such an author, a person who writes at all levels; plot, character, technical presentation, and theme.

This is to say that the other pieces of the fiction (plot; characterization) work as well as these little technical echoes. The story `Tristan' is a good example: after finishing this one, try to erase from your mind the image of the writer pleading with the sickened wife to play the piano. Try to wipe away the lilt of language, the turn and tilt that bring to mind the piece by Wagner, a sound that you can almost hear in the just the words themselves. I assure you, it will stick to you. If you want to do any writing yourself you will find your mind wandering over this passage, trying to discern how it is that Mann achieved this feat in mere language.

And this brings me to another reason to buy this book- David Luke. Mr. Luke does a splendid rendering of the material, a translation that does not dumb it down, that is very conscious of the work and its brevity and that takes great pains to make sure to convey as many levels of the work to the reader as is possible. One good example- at one point a German word is used that can have more than one meaning in the context (Geist); this is noted at the bottom of the page instead of being accounted into the translation itself. Doing this instead of writing both contexts into the text gives the reader an appreciation for the original work that could not be had otherwise.

The introduction is splendid as well. In 50 pages Mr. Luke covers a brief synopsis of each of the stories, recounting to the reader what should be noted so that the brilliance of the work becomes more evident (I will admit, I did not notice the repetitions myself...). I would advise (as with any introduction) that this part should be read last; it contains spoilers that could curtail the experience of a fresh reading.

Bottom line: Add this to your collection of paperbacks. Each story is worth the price of the book as a whole and the fact that they can all be had so cheap leaves little reason not to buy it.

-LP

Thomas Mann's masterful short novel "Death in Venice" (1912) tells the story of a distinguished German writer, Gustav Aschenbach, who, at the age of 53 while on holiday in Venice, develops a passion for a 14-year old boy named Tadzio. Mann's story sets the demands and powers of eros, human sexuality, in the form of Aschenbach's feelings for Tadzio, against the life, of intellect, discipline, artistic creation, and order which Aschenbach had, before his fateful passion, attempted to realize in his life. Mann's story is highly organized and beautifully controlled, meeting the artistic and intellectual demands of his protagonist, Aschenbach. Yet the story exudes passion and eroticism, in Aschebach's homosexual attraction for a young adolescent, the dank gondolas of Venice, the fetid epidemic that plagues the city, and the atmosphere of death and destruction that Mann captures in his work. The story is full of allusions to Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, to Plato's Phaedrus and Symposium and, I think, to the Bacchae of Euripides. Mann's story offers a disturbing picture of the claims of sexuality and eroticism, particularly on the life of the mind, and of the consequences of repressing them.

I was grateful for the opportunity to reread "Death in Venice" in a book group, and my understanding of the work was increased by this excellent collection of seven of Mann's early short stories in a volume edited by David Luke. It is available at a modest price. The six other stories in the volume were written earlier than "Death in Venice" and show a unity of theme with this great work. Each of the stories juxtaposes the life of the artist, the outsider trying to observe and understand, with the claims of passion. The artists involved, the passions, and the results differ among the stories, but the underlying theme remains the same.

"Tonio Kroger" (1903), an extended short story, shows an aspiring writer infatuated in his youth with a school friend and, subsequently, with the girl his friend marries. He years to be part of what he deems "the bright children of life, the happy, the charming, and the ordinary" while recognizing that this is not to be for him. "Tonio Kroger" was Mann's own favorite among his works and it presents the theme of "Death in Venice" -- intellect and passion in a different way and light.

The extended story "Tristan" (1903) also is based upon a conflict over a young woman, set in a sanitorium, between a dandified writer and her business-like matter-of-fact husband. Mann's love for Wagner and for music are also at the center of this story.

The remaining four stories also develop the theme of passion as a disturbing force in what appears to be a settled life. I particularly enjoyed the short opening work, "Little Herr Friedemann" (1897) in which a young man who becomes hunchbacked and reserved as a result of an accident in infancy is humiliated and rejected when he feels the stirrings of passion in the person of a beautiful 24 year old married woman.

In delving into the force eroticism exerts on human life, Mann's stories explore a theme which resonates deeply with me and with many readers. This book, with Luke's translation and introduction, is an excellent way of getting to know Mann's stories.

Robin Friedman

The shorter tales are good but are really like imperfect sketches made in study for the grand finale piece Death in Venice. Most of the tales deal with sensual longing which is never satisfied or consummated and that gets a bit tiring unless you see the sensual longing representing some higher longing as well, the sensual longing perhaps being one in the same with spiritual and artistic longing. That way you are more in the frame of mind to see that Death in Venice is not just about an older mans lust for a younger man but a prolonged meditation about time and art and all those highly valued goods. I have to confess I get tired of Mann pretty quick because he dwells on the same themes over and over again but if you are a student of fiction he really is one of those writers who has much to teach. Still it sometimes seems to me that Mann's characters would be better off if they occasionally just went ahead and did it. That may sound to be an awful oversimplification but I think they would feel better and their already instable identities and worlds would not constantly be shaken to the ground by those too long suppressed desires. As for the spirit and artistic sense, they too would be happier, much more contented, with the occasional release and renewal of energies, a bit of fleshen contact would connect them to something more real than their "thoughts" about things. Anyway if you haven't already read Death in Venice you are lucky because it is a great read, though a strange and sometimes disturbed one. If you like your main characters made of more earthy substance than Mann's suffering spirits read D.H. Lawrence who also loved Italy by the way and who contemplated time and art in a much more relaxed manner.

This collection of Thomas Mann's novellas and short stories thematically exhibits the alienation of being a passionate artist in a bourgeois society. "We artists despise no one more than the dilettante, the man of life who thinks that in his spare time, on top of everything else, he can become an artist," the title character tells a sympathetic friend in "Tonio Kroger," a story which seems at least partially autobiographical. Tonio, who has become a renowned writer as an adult, recalls an instance when he was a boy in which he tried to entice the interest of a friend -- a popular, athletic boy, everything that Tonio was not -- by enthusiastically explaining to him the plot of Schiller's "Don Carlos." The attempt was futile, however, and Tonio was left spiritually alone with his unusual love of literature.

"Tristan" takes the artist-bourgeois conflict to a setting that presages Mann's definitive novel "The Magic Mountain." The protagonist, an offbeat writer named Spinell confined to a tuberculosis sanatarium, takes an interest in a fellow patient, a businessman's wife who, he discovers, is a sensitive and tasteful amateur pianist. He writes her husband a derogatory letter, deploring him as a philistine who does not deserve to share his life with this secretly artistic woman, which results in a heated confrontation between the two men. In "The Child Prodigy," Mann's tone turns satirical as he focuses on an eight-year-old concert pianist giving an electrifying public performance to an audience whose various reactions -- wonder, jealousy, indifference -- are reflections upon themselves more so than on the performer.

"Death in Venice" is the boldest piece in this collection, unambiguously presenting homosexuality in an artistically positive light but also showing something of a German fascination with Italian culture and scenery. Gustav Aschenbach, the protagonist, again seems to reflect Mann to an extent as a middle-aged, widowed, respected author from Munich who becomes infatuated with a teenage boy while vacationing in Venice. Whether this love ever becomes mutual or physical is not as important as the mood Mann invokes about European cultural and moral decadence, possibly symbolized by the cholera epidemic that sweeps through the city.

"Man and Dog: An Idyll" is a brilliant meditation on the narrator's affectionate and occasionally difficult relationship with his pet pointer and also allows a glimpse of life in the industrialized and suburbanized Germany of the early twentieth century. To say that Mann gives the dog a human personality may seem a cliche, but few writers could achieve his level of empathy in relating a dog's behavior and desires in man's terms without resorting to outright personification. A disturbing inversion of this story is told in "Tobias Mindernickel," in which a lonely old man, given no personal background by Mann, ostracized in his neighborhood by adults and taunted by children, buys a dog and demands from it the obedience and respect he has never earned from people.

Mann is truly one of the most important figures in twentieth century literature. What he chose to portray, and the talent with which he portrayed it, brighten the legacy of a century that threatened to destroy art in so many ways for so many insane reasons.

It is Mann's final novella. It is a twist on the matter of deceitfulness. The greatest deceit is self-deceit. The story was inspired by an anecdote given to Mann by his wife Katia according to the forward by Carlos Baker.

The setting of the story is the 1920's. Rosalie is a widow and a Rhinelander. Her daughter Anna, nearly age 30, is her dearest companion. Her son Eduard, considerably younger than Anna, wants his mother to hire Ken Keaton, a young American, as his English teacher. His mother accedes to his wish. Rosalie is vivacious in Mr. Keaton's presence. She is beginning to lose her heart to him. Rosalie possesses self-knowledge, she is ashamed. Rosalie comes to rejoice in her torment. Her son and daughter see the situation and her son says to her he has learned a sufficient amount of English and the services of Mr. Keaton are no longer required.

During the social season Ken Keaton is seen in other people's houses. Rosalie confesses to Anna that she loves Ken Keaton. Anna points out he has little to inspire such passion and suffering. She characterizes her mother's enchantment as absurd. Rosalie is led to use restraint so that under no circumstances would young Eduard feel compelled to defend her honor.

She misreads her own physiological state. She has come to believe that her love has wrought a change in her middle-aged condition. Her death is swift. During the last hospitalization she remembers the black swan.

The formality of the language employed is notable. The descriptions of Rosalie's malady may be held to be excessively clinical.

Although Thomas Mann is probably best known for writing about the conflict between the artist and the non-artist and death versus life in all of us, he is also fascinated by the concept of diesease and the way it treats the human psyche. When, at the end of this (very short) novel, the doctor cuts the protagonist open and sees she is dying of cancer, the "tea leaves" he looks at frightenly trace her roller coaster emotional life for the past six months. HOWEVER, the doctor also has some theories, about menopause, estrogen and cancer, which--largely because of the addition of two Latin words, I was UNABLE TO FOLLOW. In short, I only understand PART of the end of this book! At the end of his life, Mann has defeated me in both English and German.

Perhap's the Master's shortest and most unusual novella, here we see yet another side to this early 20th Century Genius. A study of a middle aged woman slightly deluded about her aging charms with a daughter who seems to sympathize, but really knows better. As usual, some great descriptions of nature, medieval castles, and philosophical discussions between the two. Mann's seeming obsession with the hidden decay of the body, and perhaps German culture and society, are crystal clear. The writing, even in English, is among his most mesmorizing. Really is there any doubt he is the GREATEST 20th Century Writer?!

The storyline of The Black Swan is simple: the widow Frau Rosalie von Tummler does not take well to menopause, seeing it as the loss of her womanhood. She hires a young American to tutor her son in English, falls in love (or at least lust) with the tutor, ...

The root of the story, however, is conflict with nature - Rosalie is enlivened with a love of nature, a nature that betrays her in her daughter with a club foot, in menopause, in uterine cancer ...

An excellent study of a subject that was somewhat taboo when this book was initially published.

Is this one of Mann's best novels? No, it is not. But it is worth reading anyway. Thomas Mann is best known for novels that delve into an almost omphaloskeptic contemplation of Life, Humanity, Evil and Sin painted on the backdrop of the glorious lost Europe of the Nineteenth Century. As charming as Europe is today, what we see is a faint ghost of a graceful time that tried to hold all things, including class structure of society, under a crystal dome. Of course, this failed, and bloodily so, as is the case throughout history. But Mann tried to capture this sense of youth and grace lost in his novels from Buddenbrooks to The Magic Mountain.

In "The Black Swan" Mann uses a woman "of a certain age" as the symbol of lost youth and innocence. The main character struggles with menopause, the hormonal betrayal of women, and she reacts to the physical changes by falling in love with a younger man. This is a well-observed sketch of denial. With astounding insight, Mann has his character finally delude herself into believing she is pregnant--but the bloating is but the symptom of an inner decay. She is dying of ovarian cancer.

The perceptiveness of Mann about women, who suffer a loss of womanhood and fertility as a result of menopause is astounding. The worth of women to young men is for their beauty and fertility. What does a woman who cannot bear a family and who is aging and becoming ugly have to offer a youth? But this is not the only meaning in "The Black Swan." No, it is again a metaphor for the grace, innocence and beauty of old Europe. In the years following both World Wars, the once-graceful continent undergoes a sort of menopause after the violence of the changes brought by the vicious conflict. Europe is older, uglier and sadly, not much wiser.

I bought this book written by Robert W. Mann entitled "Photographic Regional Atlas Of Bone Disease: A Guide To Pathologic And Normal Variation In The Human Skeleton". I thought the book was fantastic, extremely informative, and feel it is a great reference material for anyone in the osteology/ physical anthropology field. There was a wide variety of pathological diseases and pictures to go with each disease in question. I would recommend this book highly to anyone taking a human skeletal analysis course or to anyone in need of reference materials in this area.

Fast service and great conditiion. Thanks!

The book was in even better condition than I expected and I received it in a timely manner. Thanks!

This is a great book. There are a lot of great photos in here, and a lot of pathologies that I cannot find any information on elsewhere. It is also well organized, by bone, so it is great as a quick reference for lab and field.

The photographs in this book are of an apallingly bad quality - ironic, considering it's a "Photographic Atlas". The photos aren't just grainy, they look like low-quality photocopies, which seriously cripples the book's utility as a diagnostic guide. I'm sure the text is great, but I assumed this book was intended as a quick reference guide (owing to the title "Regional Atlas"). Definately not worth the price.

Fantastic story of transformation and forgiveness.Mann uses the pen like a master.

You don't have to plow through monster works like "The Magic Mountain" or "Buddenbrooks" to gain an appreciation for the art of Thomas Mann. "The Holy Sinner" is a short novel (for Mann) about the medieval legend of St. Gregory. This is a story of sin and redemption, with the horrors of the sins, incest and unbridled lust, making the redemption all the more spectacular.

The style is elegant, stylishly mocking the medieval archaic German which is well-rendered into a stylized antique English by the talented Mrs. Lowe. The story is as gripping as any soap opera but the artistry with which it is told is exquisite. As usual, Mann blends his story-telling ability with his genius as a writer of ideas. I can hardly think of another writer who comes close to being able to combine a good yarn with incredible style and deep concepts (maybe Melville and Nabokov, perhaps.)

This is a good preparatory book for "Joseph and his Brothers"--a monumental book about the biblical story of Joseph in Egypt.

Thomas Mann (1875-1955), winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, is one of the great German writers of the 20th century. His best works rely on an exquisite sense of irony, erudition and multiple layers of meaning to explore some of the burning moral issues of our time. "The Holy Sinner" is one of his last works and was written immediately after what many consider his masterpiece, "Doctor Faustus".

In "The Holy Sinner" Mann retells a medieval legend about the life of Pope Gregory in plush,tongue-in-cheek, bejewelled language reminiscent of knightly chronicles. The translator, H. T. Lowe-Porter, has done an excellent job in translating the romance-like pastiches spoken or written by the different characters --in particular if you have a smattering of French, Latin, Spanish, Catalan, Middle English or Provenzal, you will enjoy these light-hearted and occasional romps. However, as is usual with Mann, the glittering surface-story is not the most interesting one. This book is also a Christianized version of Sophocles' Oedipus tragedies and an optimistic commentary on the possibilties of European reconstruction in the aftermath of the second world war.

Unfortunately I feel the three levels do not resonate with the power you find in his masterpieces ("The Magical Mountain", "Doctor Faustus"). Russell Berman, who wrote the introduction to the book does not agree: "In the Holy Sinner, Thomas Mann unfolds an ornate depiction of the Middle Ages, replete with courtly love and jousting knights, illiterate peasants and papal magnificence. This fascinating setting, which the author embellishes with all his linguistic and confabulatory powers, is equally a backdrop for weighty matters of the mind: religious questions of sin and grace, psychoanalytical inquiries into incestous desire, political investigations into the distribution of power."

If you have never read Thomas Mann, I would recommend you start with his novelette "Death in Venice&quo! t; and then go on to "Doctor Faustus" and "The Magic Mountain". If you have read his masterpieces be warned: this is, in Graham Greene's nomenclature, more of an entertainment than a novel.

"The Holy Sinner," on a literal level is a story about a multi-generational incestuous family, and their reconcilliation of their sins. Read as such, "The Holy Sinner" is a disturbing account with a semi-satirical take on the religious rituals of redemption, incest, nepotism and penance.

On a deeper level, "The Holy Sinner" comes forth as a contemporary myth. There is a definite straining in this book for a sense of redemption, forgiveness, and the search for meaning. Ripe with symbolism, and exploring a kind of "less-violent" Oedipal storyline, you can feel Mann's struggle over the contemporary situation in Germany in the late 40s and early 50s.

Though not what I would call a "sequel" to "Doctor Faustus," in the allegorical way you can catch a glimpse of Germany in the pages of "The Holy Sinner," I would nevertheless point out that the theme of "penance and change instead of murder and vengeance" seems very contemporarily bound.

However, the story itself hinges on one coincidence too many, and there are passages that nearly grind to a halt in speed and direction. I did come away from the novel with a new respect for Thomas Mann, but this was not an easy read, and, at times, not even enjoyable. The alliteration and sometimes near-poetry of the writing was in some passages immaculate, and then a few pages later almost clumsy and awkward.

I would consider this book one meant more for study than outright enjoyment, though I did enjoy it more often than I didn't. It was work to finish it, however, and more work to digest and attempt to understand it. If you are in the mood for something serious and allegorical, pick up "The Holy Sinner." But if you're looking for something lighter or entertaining, I'd suggest you pass this one by.

I just finished reading Thomas Mann's Library Research Models: A Guide to Classification, Cataloging, and Computers (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993). It is an outstanding book, one I recommend for all library students and librarians. I wish my reference professor had assigned this as a text!

Mann, who is currently (as far as I know) a reference librarian at the Library of Congress, describes a number of different library research models, including: specific subject or discipline model, traditional library science model (classification scheme, vocabulary-controlled catalog, published bibliographies and indexes), type-of-literature model, actual-practice model, and computer workstation model. He notes the limitations and powers of each approach, and he concludes the book with a cumulative methods-of searching model that uses most of these models to account for the weaknesses of the others. If you want a comprehensive approach to your next massive research project, Mann provides it!

Along the way, he made a number of excellent arguments. The first is that most people believe that the organization of information in the library consists of the classification scheme alone. Thus, people assume the only way to access the information in a library is to find the call number or class where a certain subject might be and browse around that area in the stacks. Unfortunately, this is a deficient assumption. As Mann and critics of classification schemes point out, one book can address many subjects. So, where does a book go then? Similarly, a book addressing one subject can address many different aspects of it. Which aspect should be be brought out in its class assignment? Given these probelms, a person browsing the stacks may be missing several relevant books if he or she restricts the search to one class area in the stacks. Nevertheless, classification is important, as it provides a library user access to the full text of the library's collection. Mann provides examples of information that cannot be found through a library's catalog or various bibliographies and indexes, but only through browsing in the book's of a library's collection.

Another argument he makes is the controlled vocabulary used in the library's catalog is a powerful mechanism for providing access to information. Specifically, controlled vocabulary provides predictability and serendipity. Yes, that's right. Mann provides innumerable examples to show this. He rightly criticizes information scientists who insist that keyword/postcoordinate searches have made controlled vocabulary irrelevant. "Tagging" has become popular. However, tagging lacks authority control and the syndetic structure of thesauri and books of subject headings, such as the Library of Congress Subject Headings, and thus lacks the full predictability of formal controlled vocabularies.

Mann describes another aspect not emphasized in research or in library science education: the importance of bibliographies and indexes. He notes that the Library of Congress classification places encyclopedias and other guides to the literature in the A class (these works, he says, serve as a "table of contents" to everything after it, that is, works in the B through V range). Class Z includes bibliographies and indexes. These are at the end in the classification scheme; they serve as an index to everything before it. Mann explains how to find bibliographies, both in the catalog and in the classification scheme, and, again, provides illustrative examples of the usefulness of these works.

If there are powerful, traditional approaches to finding information during the research process, why don't we use them? There are many reasons. Mann speculates at length. One reason is that methods courses in graduate work tend to focus on discipline or subject specific resources (often in the form of lists), instead of library research approaches. Library science education, on the other hand, tends toward the type-of-literature model. Students in a LIS reference course, for example, learn about specific almanacs, atlases, encyclopedias, etc., without learning how to find them more generally, for any subject, using a library's controlled vocabulary. Reference course work in specific areas, such as government information or science, is actually a combination of the type-of-literature and the discipline/subject models. This has been the case, in my experience. If I were to teach a course in general reference, I would definitely assign chapters 3-5 in this book! (These chapters cover the library science model: classification, controlled vocabulary, and published bibliographies and indexes).

Another reason why many of these approaches aren't used is due to what is known as the Principle of Least Effort. Mann refers to this principle repeatedly throughout the book and wrote a chapter on it. We are comfortable chatting with our fellow students or coworkers and asking for good articles or books they may have read or seen, or simply looking at the footnotes of one or two articles we may have happened across in a simple keyword search of some particular database.

Mann's reliance on controlled vocabulary could be considered one of the book's weaknesses. Yes, it is important for finding information in the library, but it is difficult to teach. I would guess that most librarians would not feel comfortable teaching the LCSH! Also, most people loathe to consult the big red LCSH books, but, at the same time, there isn't an easy way to browse them online. Even the LOC's authorities Web site isn't as easy as browsing the LCSH books, in my opinion.

Another criticism of the book may be that it is a systems approach to research. That is, the book emphasizes the systems of research rather than the user. Well, that may be, but Mann does acknowledge the weaknesses of these research models and the systems they use. He also acknowledges that they take some learning. But, especially for print resources, how else is a user to find information in the library? There's been lots of research done on information seeking behavior, but few if any of these studies have suggested real changes to the current library organization model of classification, a vocabulary-controlled catalog, and indexes and bibliographies.

In spite of these possible criticisms, this book helped me see the organization of library information as a whole (classification [browsing], vocabulary-controlled catalog, bibliographies and indexes). This book has me looking very much forward to an update of Mann's other book, which will be released later this year: The Oxford Guide to Library Research.

Most interesting to me was the author's assertion that digitalization of books adversely affects their preservation, due to the evanescent nature of computer software and hardware standards. A book printed 500 years ago is still readable today. Could the same be said for a CD-ROM 500 years from now

Dr. Mann (who has a Ph.D. in English and worked as a private investigator at one time) is a senior reference librarian at the LoC and knows his stuff. If you need serious help stop by the main reading room on Weds. nights and you'll likely find him. The book is very good but his personal knowledge is even better!

"The Magic Mountain" is a lengthy extension of a comical short story of a passive, unremarkable upper middle class gentleman. World War I caused Mann to use the character as an observer of the decay of traditional German values and the political and social chaos that culminated in a "break" that changed Germany forever. Like Goethe's Faust, Hans Castorp takes a tour of life remaining passive as he explores the nature of time, the influence of art, the responsibility of social intervention, the obsession of passion, the intrusion of other cultures, and the direct confrontation of death.

This novel has a profound effect on readers as they are linked to and limited by Castorp's perceptions. We are passively exposed to ideas and events as Hans travels to the sanitorium for a brief stay. Weeks become months as Hans receives a vague diagnosis, and we share his fate. Time slows to a virtual standstill during some days and accelerates to another season a few pages later. Years go by as we are exposed to the cultural views of the era. Ultimately, Hans must accept responsibility for his own life and death as we do page by page. This is a remarkably life-changing novel, particularly for readers intimidated by life and death.

It is almost pointless to assess a star rating to a book like this - a novel that breaks most of the conventions of the genre. I am a fan of Thomas Mann - I love Death in Venice and his short stories. This book however, taxed my abilities as a reader to the limit. It took me about two months to finish it. I don't pretend to have absorbed everything in it. It is an 854-page philosophical novel without any real plot.

It tells the story of Hans Castorp - an average Joe from Germany - who goes to visit his cousin in a health spa for three weeks and ends up staying for seven years. The trip isn't so much a vacation for him but a period of intellectual development - sort of like going to college. The bulk of the book is taken up with philosophical discussions with the humanist Settembrini and the radical Naptha. In all this, it is very difficult to tell where Mann's sympathies lie.

One of the joys of reading Mann is that his sentences evoke a Europe at the beginning of the twentieth century. This however, wears thin over 800 pages. As A.S. Byatt points out in her wonderful introduction, one tries to hurry along but the novel demands to be read at its own speed. At the end of the novel, there is the fear that you missed something and didn't get everything out of it. Mann's advice was to simply read it twice. John Irving loves the book and claims to have read it more times than he can count. I may read it again - but not for a long time.

Thomas Mann's opus follows Hans Castorp's visit to a tuberculosis sanatorium in the Swiss Alps, a stay which would last seven years. This immensely rich and complex novel is, at its core, about temporality. We are given numerous conversations between the primary actors about the plasticity of time, about the ways in which our sense of time shape our existence. What is particularly brilliant about Mann's prose in 'The Magic Mountain,' is his ability to provoke sensations in the reader that mirror the protagonist. For instance, during the scene early in the novel where Castorp decides to stay at the sanatorium, I found that I too had been seduced by the private world which Castorp had become embedded. It is during this scene that it is revealed that the patients are in fact intoxicated (both literally and metaphorically) by their environment; the accretion of bacteria on the spinal cord creates the effect of a subtle intoxication and euphoria. Remarkably, Mann does not fail to create this effect through the creation of his conversations, which achieve an extraordinary level of verisimilitude. This is a novel about ideas, not actions. We are thrown into an ongoing dialectic between the enlightenment and romanticism, between the hard sciences and psychoanalysis, between philosophy and religion, and so on. The characters, particularly Castorp, Settembrini, and Dr. Krokowski, pulse with realistic energy. 'The Magic Mountain' is a masterpiece of form and scale, it is truly one of the great literary works of its time. John Woods has provided a supremely readable translation, both in the beauty of its cadences and in the rich subtlety of the dialog.