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Jeff In Venice, Death In Varanasi (2008)

by Geoff Dyer(Favorite Author)

3.46 of 5 Votes: 1

ISBN

0307377377 (ISBN13: 9780307377371)

languge

English

genre

Fiction

publisher

Pantheon

review 1: This one stumps me a bit. I failed to follow all of the Mann engagement while reading; without the knowledge of that gloss, the text suffers. Now that i see it i am more favorably disposed. Prose is very crisp, but a bit thin in places; I'm tempted to say tossed off. This quality, alongside a certain easy hedonism, makes the second half bid for revelation seem a bit thin, too. I didn't altogether buy it. Dyer means for there to be ambiguity about this character's identity, but his qualities, if not bio, are identical to Jeff's in A1. Having said that, lots of wit and some wisdom in parts one and two. Too bad part two was a slog. James Woods characterizes it this way: 'in this original, affecting, and unexpected book, Geoff Dyer leaves his narrator prayerfully bottoming out... more on boredom.' In much of part 2, I found myself doing same. Woods seems to read this as a badge of profundity. I'm not so sure. But perhaps if I bought the character's transformation, I would be prepared to accept the narratively brave representation of the absence of conflict.
review 2: I think where this book goes wrong is that the name of the two novellas seem to invoke an escapist travel experience. On the cover of the book I bought there's this beautiful picture of a woman from the neck up laying upon the sand of a beach. I bought it, ready for a rollick and some pleasure reading. That wasn't my experience. If there's anything I love it's how Dyer seems to just layout these thick descriptions of both Venice and Varanasi (absolutely loved loved loved the opening description of Varanasi). The characters he creates are so vividly real and their experiences so visceral. Jeff Atman seemed like such a real person . . . but admittedly I couldn't stand the character. I found him to be totally frustrating and irresponsible. Hell, I found myself disliking everyone involved in the Biennale. Ultimately the flaws of the Jeff atman character catch up to him as he's left wandering alone in Venice and ending up at a cafe that's run out of beer. There is a real depression behind these two stories. There is, above all, a sense of getting old and of going nowhere, like putting a magnifying glass over a middle-age crisis. While I appreciated Dyer's ability and skill in writing, I can't say that I felt necessarily good by the end of either stories -and I think that was Dyer's intention. But the writing was top notch and I don't regret reading this at all. less

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