Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi

Jul 05, 2012 Fionnuala rated it 2 of 5 stars · review of another edition

'Dazzling', 'wonderfully entertaining', 'extraordinarily reflective' 'Dyer can write as beautifully as Lawrence and Proust', are just a small sample of the critics' comments from the inside cover of this book. So why have I given it only two stars? Yesterday, when I finished it, my review might have read as follows: 'I have nothing to say about this book because I am unwilling to spend any more of my precious time trying to think of something to write that won't be too harsh and dismissive.' Ins...more 'Dazzling', 'wonderfully entertaining', 'extraordinarily reflective' 'Dyer can write as beautifully as Lawrence and Proust', are just a small sample of the critics' comments from the inside cover of this book. So why have I given it only two stars? Yesterday, when I finished it, my review might have read as follows: 'I have nothing to say about this book because I am unwilling to spend any more of my precious time trying to think of something to write that won't be too harsh and dismissive.' Instead, I decided to sleep on it and see if a new day might offer me a different perspective and indeed today I did find some positive things to say.
The book is full of literary and artistic references which I always find interesting but I do like them to have a purpose and I did not always understand their purpose in this novel. Direct references are made to Thomas Mann, Mary McCarthy (Dyer used the quotes from her very well), D H Lawrence, Henry James, Somerset Maugham and other writers too, but nothing much is made of the references. Dyer also refers to some Venetian artists, to Giorgione, although I failed to understand why he kept underlining the threatening storm in Giorgione's version of The Tempest, and to Tintoretto's paintings in the San Rocco church which was one of the better bits in the book. He also mentions many, many contemporary artists. This is valid referencing since the first part of the book is set during a Venice Biennale but eventually the listing of names became boring. There were also some more veiled literary references, the most intriguing for me were the subtle evocations of Dante and his Beatrice, especially in the pieces about Isobel, in the second part.
Considering all of this literary citation, I expected the writing to be more polished but instead I found it very variable in quality, even awkward at times, forcing me to reread some sentences in order to grasp their meaning. I didn't find the the story elements in the Venice section compelling in any way. The 'Julia' theme might have been interesting but Dyer didn't develop it at all and by the end of the first half, I was ready to abandon the book but then the story veered off in a different direction, to Varanasi in India, this time with a first person narrator. Ah, I thought, now it will be interesting, especially since I'd just read Damon Galgut's 'In A Strange Room' which has a section about India. Damon Galgut's writing is part travelogue, part story and he is very good at weaving together fact and fiction without losing the reader through boredom or incredulity. Galgut isn't interested in plot as such but the reader quickly accepts this and follows the story wherever it leads because his writing is so good and his voice is so deeply human. I tried to apply this principle to Dyer's Indian section as it seemed to be some sort of travel writing. I tried very hard to follow the narrator without question in his wanderings around Varanasi but Dyer kept throwing in plot hooks which distracted me and lead nowhere and the narrator's voice sounded so banal, even smug at times. On several occasions, thinly disguised references were made to elements of the Venice section leading the reader to suppose that some connection would eventually emerge between the two. I didn't particularly need this connection to be made but Dyer did lead me to expect it. Instead he offered a different resolution. Not death as the title might suggest but a sort of living death, for the narrator, and for the reader. I was relieved when it was over.(less)

7 likes · like · see review

May 02, 2011 Sunil rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: india, return-tickets, contemporia, post-modern, reviews

Technically, this is my first Dyer and I liked it. That, in itself, would make it unlikable for an average reader.

The book is really two separate novellas: the first is the story of Jeff Atman, an aimless middle rung journalist in London who is assigned to cover the Venice Binneale to a ‘scoop’ interview around a story of prized nude photograph of a singer?

The action moves to very ‘otter’ than ever before Venice. Jeff, portrayed as somewhat of an outsider at the international art scene, trudges...more Technically, this is my first Dyer and I liked it. That, in itself, would make it unlikable for an average reader.

The book is really two separate novellas: the first is the story of Jeff Atman, an aimless middle rung journalist in London who is assigned to cover the Venice Binneale to a ‘scoop’ interview around a story of prized nude photograph of a singer?

The action moves to very ‘otter’ than ever before Venice. Jeff, portrayed as somewhat of an outsider at the international art scene, trudges along the parties and galleries gulping Bellinis and snorting Cocaine. He meets Laura an American gallery owner (or was she a curator?) Anyway, they hit off. They roam around piazzos and gallerias cracking airy drunken jokes and witty repartees at each other. They duly end up doing what two people who hit off are expected to do – have roaring sex! The segment is well written – cynical but dipped in comical smugness, an unmistakable sense of lurking gaiety pervades through the pages as Jeff looks down upon the clichés and the quirks of art world between his broad range of experiences in Venice - absolute aimlessness ( keenly observing a pigeon on a pavement or snorting cocaine in a cathedral) to kinky sex and snogging in public toilets. He even manages to get stoned with his celebrity interviewee. I loved the sense of humour that Dyer smuggles into this segment - not overt yet well ingrained within the dialogues. There are quite a bit of puns too. (Dyer – hair dye etc)

The second part is the story of an unnamed protagonist (May be Dyer / may be Jeff, it is never revealed ) who gets assigned ( ? again) at the last minute as a substitute to write an article about Varanasi the historical-holy city of the Hindus.

He starts off at a typical arm's distance – mildly disdainful of the poor hygiene and the mad Indian traffic, but slowly gets drawn into the Hindu idea of the life and universe. He overstays well past his assignment, gets initially attracted to a fellow Brit and later a Swiss traveler but not as much as to the city itself which continually entices him like a long lost lover, unraveling through its strange inhabitants and mysterious ways that appear, at once, both profound and meaningless to him. Under such contradictions he grows more interested in mulling over his existence and life in general; he becomes more distant from his wants and lacks, finally he is shown to develop abstract spiritual ideas of his own.

The second segment, needless to say, is more engaging - the Dyer potshots are more subtle though at times gross and unnecessary ( talking goat - a chide at Rushdie and other magical realists). The description of the scape is more detailed, which lingers away as the book progresses. The change to within is well captured, as the protagonist turns more reflective and zany by the page.

At times the book was predictable, at parts needed tighter writing, but generally I liked it. It's in my favourite genre too, if it is one at all: part memoir, part travelogue, and part philosophy without any plot whatsoever. Readers looking for plots are suggested to make an easier choice. I loved both the novellas, each I could personally relate to: hedonistic frivolity of the west and the silent fatalism of the east. The book draws its title from the old Thomas Mann classic – Death in Venice - a novel that also deals with the same themes of life and death but with somewhat greater intensity.

This is a love it or hate it sort of a book. I get a feeling that goes for Dyer as a writer too. Once you finished the book it’s not hard to see why Dyer chose to weave in the two cities as a part of a book. In essence, the book is about these two cities, their similarities and contradictions. Both are very distinct cities – literally poles apart yet very similar. Varanasi being symbol of the abstractness of Hindu philosophy while Venice an international art hub of sorts. Both attract travellers but for totally different reasons.

Venice isn’t as detailed as Varanasi in the book, but I still suppose, it’s fair to say that the book is a charming tribute to both the cities, a sort of testimonial that makes you run to them the very next holiday. I haven’t been to Varanasi but I already feel I know a lot about it. I’ve even been googling hotel Ganges View.

(less)

5 likes · like · see review

Jun 13, 2009 Sazuru rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: serious-fiction, fun-fiction

Oh, another guy book, but so freewheeling and acutely observed that there was no putting it down. Crucial in the Varanasi section was a paragraph admitting that the character lived in a special traveler/tourist/hippie space and had no real access to the intellectual and artistic life of the Indian city. So glad to see someone else citing Mary McCarthy's Venice Observed, and to read the conscious and loving echoes of Thomas Mann, Somerset Maugham, Vedas.

5 likes · like · see review

May 18, 2013 Jessica rated it 3 of 5 stars

Shelves: travel, india

This was an interesting one. Husband suggested I read it before we got rid of it, he had read it years ago and enjoyed it. I haven't read any other Geoff Dyer, but I'm intrigued now.

It's certainly a very interesting literary exercise. The 2 parts are so different, and yet the links are there. In the second part, I felt like I was reading a totally different book that was eerily linked in various ways to a book I'd read earlier. So it's very interesting, and the main character in each part is tot...more

like · see review

Nov 17, 2012 Tamara rated it 1 of 5 stars

After reading reviews of this novel, I understand that it is acclaimed as a high brow philosophical story. Unfortunately, it must have been too high brow for me because I did not enjoy this book at any level. It is actually 2 separate stories thinly linked by a couple of sentences that compares the similiarties between Venice and Varansai and an unsupported assumption that the unnamed narrator in the 2nd story is Jeff from the first story.

The first story is about journalists and artists attendi...more

1 like · like · see review

Aug 19, 2012 Alyson rated it 2 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Again, the more littered in praise by 'big names', and the larger the author's name on the front, I find the book disappointing.

It's a book in two halves which are, to me, in no way connected, other than the same bloke is in both of them.

The Venice half is ok, at least there's a plot (man drinks, man meets woman, man and woman have sex, do drugs and get drunk, woman leaves). In the second half of the book, in Varanasi, it's just the bloke, wandering aimlessly around, describing the filth and pe...more

1 like · like · see review

Feb 06, 2012 Ben Dutton rated it 4 of 5 stars

This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here. Jeff Atman is a journalist. Sent to cover the opening of the Biennale in Venice, he is expecting to see too much art, drink too many bellinis at too many parties. What he is not expecting is to fall in love. In the second half of the novel, Jeff is sent on assignment to the Indian holy city of Varanasi, where erotic love and spiritual awakenings will transform his life forever.

Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi won Geoff Dyer a river of praise from critics and fellow writers, and earned him the B...more Jeff Atman is a journalist. Sent to cover the opening of the Biennale in Venice, he is expecting to see too much art, drink too many bellinis at too many parties. What he is not expecting is to fall in love. In the second half of the novel, Jeff is sent on assignment to the Indian holy city of Varanasi, where erotic love and spiritual awakenings will transform his life forever.

Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi won Geoff Dyer a river of praise from critics and fellow writers, and earned him the Bollinger Everyman Wodehouse Prize. Writers as diverse as Michael Ondaatje, Lionel Shriver, Zadie Smith and William Boyd lined up to comment upon it, and many made it their book of the year. It received some criticism as well – with many citing the lack of continuity between the two halves of this novel as a major stumble in Dyer’s otherwise magnificent ability.

I found Dyer’s prose wonderfully electric – it has the looseness that comes only through many hours of hard graft and an ability to tighten the prose to breaking point. The two separate stories, though narratively disconnected – the Jeff in one may not be the Jeff in the other – there is a sense of growth, of a man coming to understand the world a little better. With some very graphic sex thrown in for good measure.

Written in an overwhelming tense first person, the first half of this book sizzles with the kind of banter that graced those old screwball comedies – as Jeff’s relationship with Laura blossoms over a weekend in Venice, you can feel the heat, taste the bellinis, and imagine the great movie this first half would make. The second half increases the tension, but the romance of the first half is replaced by an increasingly unhinged mental state that leads to a wonderfully surreal ending that indicates Dyer spent a long time reading William Burroughs. There are also, contained within the narration, clever connections made to another famous novel that gives Dyer his title: Thomas Mann’s Death in Venice. That novel hangs over this once, scenting its narration like pungent perfume. One keeps getting echoes, half-remembered quotes bubbling up and slinking away. The effect of it is wondrous.

I ended Jeff in Venice thinking that perhaps the negative critical reaction from British newspapers was because at heart this is a writers novel, not a readers novel. It is infused with a sense of the writers life, and perhaps only a fellow writer of novels could understand the nuance of it. It would explain why other British writers reacted so warmly towards it. I began Jeff in Venice not certain whether I would like it: I ended it hoping to read it again very soon.(less)

1 like · like · see review

Jun 05, 2011 Sophia rated it 3 of 5 stars

Shelves: 2011, india, italy

Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi is like a novel with a cleaved spine. Trying to match the two halves takes some reader effort. The first half is a third-person account which follows Jeff Atman, an anxious, unhappy freelance journalist, as he goes to Venice to cover the Biennale art show. However, as for most of the attendees, it's an excuse to party, swill some Bellinis, and see and be seen. Jeff's trip is significantly enhanced by meeting Laura, an American woman, with whom he as a Bienale-lo

...more

1 like · like · see review

Mar 29, 2011 Claire rated it 3 of 5 stars

Geoff Dyer is one of my favorite authors, but his work is difficult to characterize. I've read nearly all of his books (own several) except the one that's a study of John Berger's essays and a new one I only recently discovered. There are the quasi travel memoirs, a more critical look at photography, a musing on jazz, as well as some fiction.

Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi is a novel in two parts, just like the title. Having read many stories of the author's own adventures abroad, I recognized...more

1 like · like · see review

May 27, 2010 pinknantucket rated it 3 of 5 stars

I didn't enjoy it as much as Dyer's Lawrence book ('Out of Sheer Rage', which I snickered my way through) but still a good read. Dyer doesn't write 'plot' novels (based on the two I've read and also what he said in person himself when I went to see him talk recently so there). You kind of follow him along, seeing what he sees, thinking what he thinks. This books is in two parts - the first set in Venice, the second in Varanasi, India. Surprise! They are narrated by different characters, both are...more

3 likes · like · see review

Mar 04, 2010 Tim Meneely rated it 2 of 5 stars

At first, Dyer’s prose didn't stick to my ribs, it stuck in my throat.
In the end, I find Dyer's style a bit too pleased with its own cuteness (are middle-aged men called twee?). If Martin Amis, or even Hornby, wrote himself into a travel diary (in the vein of 'Under the Tuscan Sun'), this is what it would be.

“Jeff” is a writer who hates writing, a Londoner who hates London, an art aficionado professionally bored with the art world. You would think it’s right up my alley.

The good: Prose with g...more

4 likes · like · see review

Sep 07, 2009 Angie rated it 3 of 5 stars

Recommended to Angie by: Very Short List

Geoff Dyer has such an interesting way of seeing the world and expressing it in a clever way. It really is like 2 books. The only thing connecting the two is the main character, Jeff.
Some of my favorite lines include:
"Dying is an art like everything else. We do it exceptionally well. We do it so it looks real." and that is how the author covers his grey-like Sylvia Plath
Also after much waiting for so many things, "At what point would the longing for things to be over be over so that he could res...more

1 like · like · see review

Aug 13, 2009 Brenna rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: art-and-or-museums

This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here. This book is not so much a novel as two long stories connected to each other. The protagonist of the first is a British writer, bored stiff of his assignments and his life. He is sent on assignment to Venice to cover a biennale, and wanders around the city going to a lot of parties, drinking a lot of bellinis, doing a lot of drugs, and having a lot of sex ("bored stiff": The protagonist would love this pun). He squeezes some art and other work-related activity in during brief moments of downtime...more

2 likes · like · see review

Jul 03, 2009 Rebecca rated it 3 of 5 stars

I was disappointed by this book. All the reviews I've read have been glowing. I was immediately put off by the imprecision of the language. A small criticism: one of the main characters is an American woman, but she uses subtle Britishisms, like ending sentences with "isn't it?" and saying "straight away" instead of "right away." Maybe it's petty to complain about, but I feel like the author has an obligation to at least have an American friend read it and catch those things.

Anyway, this book c...more

2 likes · like · see review

May 10, 2013 Giles Booth rated it 1 of 5 stars

Caution: this review contains spoilers. This book is awful.

Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi was recommended to me by an old school friend. (To be clear: the school is old. She isn’t). And I hated it. Awkward, as they say on Twitter.

It was, I thought, so to speak, not so much Uttar Pradesh as Utter Rubbish. I had such a strong allergic reaction to Geoff Dyer I had to get a friend staying in a nearby chalet to rush three Kate Atkinson novels over as an antidote.

To be fair to my school friend (sh...more Caution: this review contains spoilers. This book is awful.

Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi was recommended to me by an old school friend. (To be clear: the school is old. She isn’t). And I hated it. Awkward, as they say on Twitter.

It was, I thought, so to speak, not so much Uttar Pradesh as Utter Rubbish. I had such a strong allergic reaction to Geoff Dyer I had to get a friend staying in a nearby chalet to rush three Kate Atkinson novels over as an antidote.

To be fair to my school friend (she reads my blog– well, someone has to – and she's on here), she hadn’t finished it when she recommended it. And I actually really rather liked the first half. It was pretty funny. I liked the free sample on the Kindle – that thing he does, muttering thoughts almost out loud. I do that. My wife also says ‘you’re doing that thing again’. He must be just like me! I am going to like this book, I thought.

I’ve never been to Venice or the Biennale; in fact I’d never even heard of the Biennale until the last one. I saw a piece on the BBC Ten O’Clock News about it, and was horrified by what a self-indulgent junket it seemed to be. A call to a friend who works in the ‘Arts & Entertainment cluster’, or ‘nut cluster’, confirmed my suspicions, and the first section of Geoff in Venice... rang true.

The problem starts at the half-way point. I sensed trouble was afoot as soon as we handbrake-turned into a new narrative voice. An amusing third-person tale of a loser journalist having a stupidly good time in Venice gives way to a first person account of a life falling to pieces in India amid mystics and illness and dope.

Half way through the second half, I got an uneasy sense that nothing at all was going to happen. Jeff’s new homespun religion reminded me of the sort of pseudo-mystical tosh an alcoholic (now dead) friend used to come out with – and other people’s drug experiences are about as interesting as other people’s dreams or yesterday’s weather forecast. Or yesterday’s dreams. Or other people’s weather.

I kept reading because I wanted to slag it off and thought I could only do that if I actually finished it, because I’d paid for it dammit (a friend says that’s the latent Northerner in me) – and because I thought there might just be a sliver of a ghost of a chance of the one character you are expecting from the first half to re-appear, even if she only sails past on the Ganges, unseen, to, in some small way, tie the two halves of the book together. But no.

This book feels like a couple of bits of travel writing, or a slight novella and a really, really annoying bit of travel writing, stuck together. I don’t get it. Maybe it would help if I’d even read Death in Venice. Maybe I need to go to Venice and snort coke and go to Varanasi and smoke dope. I never wanted to do the latter, and I know for sure now that I never will.

It did, however, inspire me to write. Because I think I can do better. And I have my (old school) friend to thank for that.(less)

like · see review

Aug 27, 2012 Colleen Clark rated it 3 of 5 stars

Shelves: fiction

I've had my eye on this for a few years - probably because my son's name is Jeff. Then there's Venice and the play on "Death in Venice."

I wouldn't say it's a great novel but I enjoyed reading it. I've been to Venice 4 times and it's such a memorable place that even without a map at hand I could follow the local place names.

It's like two separate novels but the second is informed by Jeff's experience in Venice. He's not named in "Death in Varanasi" but it's clearly the same character - a slightl...more

like · see review

Aug 05, 2012 Matt rated it 3 of 5 stars

At times, I'm really a big fan of Dyer's work-- I think his _Yoga_ book is a great one, and I really loved it. But this book didn't tickle me as much.

It's made up of two arguably unrelated sections, one a four day stint in Venice that feels fictionalized and then a second in Varanasi that goes on longer (months, maybe?) that feels more like a travelogue. That second Varanasi section reads a lot like the essays in _Yoga_ but kind of wanders, lacking the clear point of some of those shorter pieces...more

like · see review

May 23, 2012 Kathrina rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: british, nyrb-intro-authors

I'm in love with Geoff Dyer right now, but I can't explain why. The more he tells me about his drug-taking, aimless, despondent life, the more I like him. Maybe because he's more than what he tells me -- you can see it in the way he constructs a sentence, in his reverent echoes of other, greater authors, in his willingness to wear a dhoti on his pale, skinny Western frame and swim in the Ganges. If one weren't told that this book is a fiction, one might believe that Geoff Dyer really did these t...more

1 like · like · see review

Apr 04, 2012 Drew rated it 3 of 5 stars

When I was younger, I'd often go to someone's cottage (everyone knew someone who had a cottage on the Finger Lakes) on July 3 for what was called the Ring of Fire: everyone with a cottage around the lake would make a big bonfire, big enough to see from across the lake. This was also an excuse to get rip-roaringly drunk and play lawn games and swim in the lake and zoom around in boats. Not that I was getting drunk; I was just a kid. My whole point here though is that these parties were inevitably...more When I was younger, I'd often go to someone's cottage (everyone knew someone who had a cottage on the Finger Lakes) on July 3 for what was called the Ring of Fire: everyone with a cottage around the lake would make a big bonfire, big enough to see from across the lake. This was also an excuse to get rip-roaringly drunk and play lawn games and swim in the lake and zoom around in boats. Not that I was getting drunk; I was just a kid. My whole point here though is that these parties were inevitably populated by the sort of guy I imagine Geoff Dyer to be: articulate, witty, middle-aged boozehounds who can somehow pull off khaki shorts and are inexplicably good at badminton.

These guys were American, and Geoff Dyer is English, of course, but I think the only change that signifies is that he's actually more likely to be good at badminton.

At any rate, as a kid, I was more interested in hanging out with these guys than with the other kids my own age, badminton notwithstanding. Was it because they let me taste their beer? That was probably a factor, but more likely it was that they were so relentlessly entertaining, and as I was a precocious and similarly entertaining child, they treated me more or less like a member of the group.

I keep forgetting what the point of this comparison was. I think it was that Dyer seems like a good guy, the sort of guy you'd want to hang out and drink beer with. The sort of guy who can always be relied upon for a pithy* observation about just about anything.

But is the book good? It depends on what you're looking for. In terms of literary substance, it's a bit lightweight. What we're talking about is just an author stand-in (this is why I feel like I know Dyer so well) wandering around Venice and Varanasi, making pithy observations about just about everything (see?) Only towards the end of each respective section does anything particularly profound appear. A couple of examples of these observations:

"He had been longing for the flight to be over; now he was longing for the bus ride to be over. At what point would the longing for things to be over be over so that he could reside squarely in the present?"

"A pleasing side-effect of taking drugs is that once you have had some you access, as if by magic, the drug scene[. . .] As soon as he had snorted this [cocaine], James said again what a great pleasure it was to have them aboard but, if they would excuse him, he felt he should attend to his other guests. With that he stood up and left the room, shutting the door carefully behind him. Wow, Jeff was thinking to himself, this is not just the drug scene, this is the yacht scene. I'm part of the drug-yacht scene! And what a great scene it was to be part of."

(after getting ambushed by a bunch of pickpocketish Indian children) "They were hopping round excitedly holding something aloft -- something that flashed in the sunlight -- as though it were a trophy, the spoils of a raid. I checked my belongings: I still had my camera, my iPod; my money belt was still around my waist. And then I realized: they had made off with something. The object I had seen them waving excitedly in the air was my can of Coke." (this being interesting mostly for what he leaves unsaid: the difference in wealth between him and these kids being so great that he couldn't even figure out what it was they stole and were so happy about.)

That type of quote is pretty frequent, almost one interesting observation or turn of phrase per page. So if that's your thing, you will definitely like this. If not, probably skip it.

*Apparently 'pithy' doesn't mean quite what I want it to mean. The dictionary says 'brief, forceful, and meaningful' which is part of what I want; the other part is 'witty'.(less)

7 likes · like · see review

Jun 12, 2009 Alex Roberts rated it 3 of 5 stars

This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here.

2 likes · like · see review

Dec 01, 2010 Mark rated it 3 of 5 stars

Shelves: venice

This came,as so many books do come, from a recommendation but whereas there is sometimes a need to politely skirt around the issue of how you enjoyed it or not because you don't wish to offend the 'recommender' I can say that I did enjoy this book. Its not the type I would normally have picked up to read but then that is the value of this website after all. Its a book in two parts in which firstly a cynical and lazy art journalist in Venice for the Biennale art festival who ironically appears to...more This came,as so many books do come, from a recommendation but whereas there is sometimes a need to politely skirt around the issue of how you enjoyed it or not because you don't wish to offend the 'recommender' I can say that I did enjoy this book. Its not the type I would normally have picked up to read but then that is the value of this website after all. Its a book in two parts in which firstly a cynical and lazy art journalist in Venice for the Biennale art festival who ironically appears to have no sense of the beauty of Venice or at least takes it totally for granted, encounters a beautiful woman there who reinvigorates him so as to enable him to see something wonderful in the world. The dialogue and images are sharp and powerful and Geoff Dyer gives us a sense of the decadence of the art world though perhaps he is another of the writers who appears to enjoy writing about people having sex without really needing to dwell in such detail as the accounts don't really serve to move characters or their relationships on at all. The next book, for it does appear to me as two distinct novels though linked by water in which in one the water is enclosed by canal walls and crumbling palaces and in the other by the natural banks of the River Ganges and crumbling Temples, has an unnnamed man, perhaps the same hero though this is never confirmed encountering the exotic and challenging world of Hinduism. The author, in his acknowledgements at the end of the novel disassociates himself from his hero's art criticism, I do wonder that he didn't do the same concerning his hero's attitude to India which is, certainly at the begiining of his coming to Varanasi dismissive and judgemental and by the end has become bizarre and verging on the insane. The two magical places of Venice and Varanasi are linked by their water, one as its foundations the other as its life blood, though life is probably not the word as Dyer continually shows the use of the Ganges for cremations and burials and is remarking regularly on the floating by of corpses of various species. They are also places of dramatic encounter. In the first the hero recaptures the ability to love and in the second perhaps his ability to live. It is an odd book but I love his turns of phrase. Here are four to be going along with;
' Jeff was relieved when, without warning, miles from where he'd left it earlier in the evening his hotel obligingly appeared '.
or again
' Anxious that even staring too hard at the glasses might cause cracks to appear, he tried to look at them gently '
or again
' Women in red and yellow saris flickered by like load bearing flames '
and finally
' Kites flew over the city like embers flaoting over a bonfire '(less)

like · see review

Jun 01, 2009 Bookmarks Magazine rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: july-aug-2009

A play on Thomas Mann's novella Death in Venice (1912), about a middle-aged male writer who seeks spiritual enlightenment in Venice but instead finds carnal doom in a young boy, Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi is many things at once: a detailed, entertaining, travelogue; a philosophical treatise on mortality, materialism, and spirituality; and an inquiry into the nature of self. Dyer's "deceptively straightforward tale" (Oregonian)óinfluenced by Nietzsche, Roland Barthes, John Berger, and othe

...more

1 like · like · see review

May 17, 2013 Andrewh rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

This is a book of two halves, literally, and both feature a middle-aged writer called 'Jeff' (not Geoff Dyer!). In the first half, in Venice, a recent...more This is a book of two halves, literally, and both feature a middle-aged writer called 'Jeff' (not Geoff Dyer!). In the first half, in Venice, a recently hair-dyed Jeff, who seems to be in crisis, goes to the Venice Biennale on a freelance gig (or lig) and, miraculously, meets a super-cool, super-sexy, beautiful American woman from the art w...more

like · see review

Feb 02, 2010 Andie rated it 3 of 5 stars

I enjoyed this book, though found it uneven in a way that didn't quite work for me. It's a novel in two parts: the first half features freelance journalist Jeff Atman heading to the 2003 Venice Biennale. The omniscient narrator follows his experiences, conquests, and bellini fueled coke binges over the frantic four day festival. Oh yeah, and he sees some art. The second half, we presume, follows the same character, though this time he's telling his story in first person. He has traveled to Varan...more

like · see review

Jul 26, 2009 Megan rated it 2 of 5 stars

I did not understand this book. And based on some preemptively defensive reviews of others, I would not get this book if I had not read Mann's Death in Venice, Mary McCarthy's book on Venice, or all of Vedic scripture. Well, I haven't read any of those, and I did not get this book. I read the whole thing, but I think I was just waiting for something to happen.

The structure was very strange: the first half of the book follows the protagonist, a British journalist, to Venice, where he covers the B...more I did not understand this book. And based on some preemptively defensive reviews of others, I would not get this book if I had not read Mann's Death in Venice, Mary McCarthy's book on Venice, or all of Vedic scripture. Well, I haven't read any of those, and I did not get this book. I read the whole thing, but I think I was just waiting for something to happen.

The structure was very strange: the first half of the book follows the protagonist, a British journalist, to Venice, where he covers the Biennale art festival. The dude parties a lot, looks at art he doesn't seem to care much about, and he meets and has lots of raunchy sex with a woman he cares about a lot. She drops a hint that she's moving to Varanasi, in India.

Cut to the second half. Same dude gets an assignment in Varanasi. We figure he's going to run into this chick, right? Maybe there will be a murder or something (judging from the title), and the reunited couple will solve it together, riding off into the sunset.

Boy could I not have been more wrong. Homespice writes his story about the death pyres of Varanasi (hence the title, I now suppose), changes his flight back to London into an open-ended ticket, and then proceeds to go slowly crazy in this town that he appears to have no intention leaving. By the end, he has shaved his head and eyebrows, and walks around town in a dhoti, having spiritual epiphanies. I mean, a character is supposed to make some sort of progress or have a kind of realization within the trajectory of a novel. But for us to watch a middle-aged British journalist go from doing rails of coke in Venice, to sitting on the banks of the Ganges, staring placidly into the eyes of yogi for hours on end with no real explanation... well, the whole thing eludes me. I did read Mann's Magic Mountain, and this protagonist's stay in Varanasi smacks of the sanatorium in the Alps. But the homage carried no message, no purpose.

I will say though: the prose was good. Wry, witty, and lyrical in a brusque, urban kind of way. Maybe that's the only reason I read it all the way through. (less)

like · see review

Apr 25, 2011 Joyce rated it 5 of 5 stars

You know how a lot of book reviewers equivocate and say respectful things in a not particularly enthusiastic way, as if they think they should like a worthy book, but don't really? Well, it wasn't like that with Jeff in Venice. They gushed, they exclaimed, they fulminated.

And I found the book captivating all the way through to the end. Jeff has a fairly decadent life (single, aimless, likes women and drugs) as an art critic. Covering the Venice Beinnale, he meets a beautiful female counterpart i...more

1 like · like · see review

May 30, 2010 Alana rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: 2010_05_may, reviewed

To be perfectly honest, I'm still not sure what to make of Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi, but I know that I liked it. It seems to be a novel that illuminates how opposites not only are able to coexist but absolutely must exist to define the other. This book feels like a journey, for more reasons than the exotic locations, and what's more, it's a journey where it's perfectly fine to lose one's way a bit, to not always completely follow where it goes, or to suddenly be perfectly in tune with t...more To be perfectly honest, I'm still not sure what to make of Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi, but I know that I liked it. It seems to be a novel that illuminates how opposites not only are able to coexist but absolutely must exist to define the other. This book feels like a journey, for more reasons than the exotic locations, and what's more, it's a journey where it's perfectly fine to lose one's way a bit, to not always completely follow where it goes, or to suddenly be perfectly in tune with the narrator's thoughts.

I've been on the lookout for Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi even before its release in hardcover, but I couldn't tell you why. Perhaps it wasn't anything more than the allure of Venice (which is really all it takes for me to be interested), but I was delighted when I found a copy at a stoop sale, thus saving me the hardcover price and the paperback wait time. I cannot quite remember what I expected, but it wasn't this... and yet that's not at all a bad thing. Dyer's book continually surprised me with its insight and descriptive detail that vividly inserts the reader into the scene, whether that's the Biennale or the ghats along the Ganges. After reading up on Geoff Dyer, one can tell that the fellow writes books that defy genres and this book is no different. It might be presented as a novel, but really it feels more like two novellas or stories, the first taking place in Venice and the second in Varanasi. It could just as easily be described as a travel book, for each story is as interested in the city as the narrator (indeed, the narrator's interest in the city often deflects us from discovering more about the narrator).

The first part, "Jeff in Venice" features our narrator, Jeff Atman, a C-level freelance journalist attending the Biennale in Venice with the additional objective of interviewing a woman whose fame exists by association -- she was once the lover of an artist, had his child, and raised the girl, who is now rising to her own stardom as a singer. Atman is to interview her, obtain the rights to a never-before-seen sketch from the famous artist who was her lover, and also photograph the woman as she is now. Of course, Atman is also just happy to be at the Biennale, which apparently causes a segment of the London population to be transported to Venice for a few days: "You came to Venice, you saw a ton of art, you went to parties, you drank up a storm, you talked bollocks for hours on end and went back to London with a cumulative hangover, liver damage, a notebook almost devoid of notes and the first tingle of a cold sore." The stated objective might be to see a large amount of art, but clearly everyone seems bent on consuming as many bellinis and as much free risotto as they possibly can. (There's a fantastic examination of human nature in a particular scene that involves the promise of free risotto and the anger when it does not manifest.) Jeff is a pretty impressive cynic when it comes to this scene, but then, he's also incredibly funny as a guide that's tired of it all and yet cannot bear the idea of being left out. It's this humor that makes everything even more delightful than it already would be as simply an examination of a yearly Venetian event. Early on, Jeff meets Laura, a beautiful woman with whom Jeff has instant chemistry (unsurprisingly, Laura is an American with a dolphin tattoo though surprisingly only seems to have a tame supply of white cotton panties). Dyer paints some wonderfully erotic scenes and as their whirlwind romance begins, the reader (along with Jeff) is left to wonder where it all might lead in the twisting canals of such an eternal city.

Of course, from the very title of the book, one has to think of Thomas Mann's Death in Venice and will notice multiple nods along the way. Is Jeff is Aschenbach and is Laura Tadzio? Well, if only by virtue of the rampant sex and the age of consent for both parties, no... but in Varanasi, we have another beautiful woman that Jeff looks at with a more diluted sense of attraction and this relationship will never come to fruition. The real thing to notice here is that Jeff is always longing for something. Just because one desire is fulfilled, it doesn't mean another does not take its place. When we head off to Varanasi, we find the other half of Mann's title, though perhaps not the same Aschenbach fate. (Side note: there's no assurance that the narrator of the second half of the novel is the same Jeff Atman, as there are no specific ties. Yes, the narrator is a journalist from London who is now traveling in Varanasi, a location which had come up in discussions between Laura and Jeff during their time in Venice, but there's no absolute affirmation. Of course, the reader inevitably assumes they must be the same man and, indeed, assumes that his experience in Varanasi takes place after that of the one in Venice.)

There is a palpable difference between the stories; gone are the swarms of art world bellini-swillers. Instead, in the "Death in Varanasi" section, we have a man traveling alone and veering off on a very different kind of bender; this one is full of the concept of emptying one's self and focusing on the present, one's surroundings, and the life that occurs in Varanasi. Of course, where we had sex in Venice, there's death aplenty in Varanasi. It all seems to originate from the funerals and burning pyres on the ghats of the Ganges... and then it simply spirals out to touch everything with the knowledge that life is very fragile indeed. From terrifying taxi rides to horrifying squalor to quite disgusting illnesses... well, we're a long way from the Biennale. Atman has companions from time to time, other travelers who drift in and out, but Atman himself rather loses his desire to travel away from Varanasi and so stays in his hotel and simply exists. It's not really as though he's waiting for something, but rather, he's slowly exploring the location, taking his time and doing whatever he pleases. There's a distinct sense of melancholy, but then, this could also be interpreted as a kind of solitary peace that simply feels sadder in comparison with the parties in Venice. Jeff still seems to be seeking something, if not "enlightenment" exactly, then some kind of understanding... yet this quieter and more personal longing is starkly different from the erotic and professional longing experienced in Venice. That might be called more frivolous, but then, it could also be simply one side of a coin that represents the longing for life.

Both of these cities seem to rise up from the water, but they do very different things to the pilgrims who travel to them... or do they? Once thinks of Venice as being about life and love (even if it's swirling out of control with drugs and alcohol), whereas the holy city of Varanasi at first sight appears to be more about death and sickness (though this, in turn, makes the city a city of life, too). Venice personifies consuming passions whereas Varanasi is emptying one's self of everything (be this in a spiritual sense or a physical sense that involves copious amounts of vomiting and such). It's not that Varanasi is a bad place, necessarily, but for the casual tourist, it will seem rather dirty and squalid. As a holy city, the tourist attraction oddly lies with the ghats on the Ganges and several times, the narrator watches bodies being burned. A great deal of time is spent musing on this sacred river that seems so polluted and yet is such a source of life, but the whole time in Varanasi is not spent musing on death by any means. Jeff is, essentially, mesmerized by the life in Varanasi, from the dancing that occurs beside burning funeral pyres to the complexities of the Indian music as spontaneous jam sessions develop on the terrace of his hotel. Some very humorous scenes arise, often involving monkeys -- it almost seems like cheating in travelogues to visit a place with monkeys, as they provide reliable humor. It's as though the only way the narrator really comes to appreciate and enjoy life in Varanasi is by staying to see beyond the constant requests for money (for boat rides, for tours, for temples, for beggars) and the filthy conditions. Many fascinating experiences arise from this time in Varanasi, but when one compares the two sections, one has to wonder if a certain amount of the spiritual discussion in Varanasi is not so different from all the bollocks one talked in Venice. In Varanasi, Jeff watches two of his friends embark upon a romance and he remains the one outside. There are echoes of each story in the other, though each left me with very different emotions.

Naturally, the reader will have to notice the comparison between Geoff the author and Jeff the narrator. Even if they're not the same person, there is great significance in a character that shares the author's name and several descriptive traits. The New York Times review described it as such: "Jeff, in other words, feels a lot like Geoff: an all-purpose writer for the high-end British papers and a determined idler whose love of freeloading can never quite conceal his hunger for something deeper and more transcendent." It's easy to think of Jeff as an alternate version of Geoff... indeed, Atman is apparently Hindu for the true and universal self. Read into that what you will, but I count it as another one of Dyer's playful touches. Above all, the thing I enjoyed was Atman's tone, which was incredibly intelligent and self-aware, unafraid to be honest and yet still allowing for the chance that things could be just what they seemed and yet still be more (at one point Atman says "it’s possible to be a hundred percent sincere and a hundred percent ironic at the same time").

So ultimately, I quite enjoyed the novel and really, if I haven't processed all of it, I'm not too concerned. It's a novel that stays with you and to which your thoughts will occasionally drift back. I'll certainly be seeking out more of Geoff Dyer's work, though I shall take great pleasure in adding this book to my list of authors who have fallen in love with Venice and on whom I can rely when I need to dip into their adventures and remember the taste of that great city.(less)

8 likes · like · see review

Feb 19, 2010 Jay Daze rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: literature, library-book, longueur

This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it, click here. Not a book for those who like plot, for the main character, the titular Jeff, has completely lost the plot of his life. And not for those who like everything neatly laid out for them. Between the two parts, that certainly do add up to make a fully realized novel, there is a large hole - as deep a hole as in Jeff himself. I enjoyed linking the two halves together, seeing the repetitions and echoes from each half. Dyer also loves screwing with the reader: Jeff mentions how he hates magical realism...more

2 likes · like · see review

Apr 10, 2009 John rated it 5 of 5 stars

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...more

1 like · like · see review

Jul 25, 2011 Colin N. rated it 5 of 5 stars

A wonderful, witty, and interesting book. "Jeff in Venice" tells two stories. In the first Jeff Atman is a London art and society writer sent on assignment yo Venice for the Biennale. His life is rather empty, he hates his writing, and he lives for the alcohol and drug-filled parties he writes about. That is until he meets a woman in Venice who may offer the possibility for redemption, or perhaps some meaning to his life. This half of the book is riveting as you ponder Jeff's fate, hilarious, in...more

like · see review

title link	preview: Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi
avg rating	preview: Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi Goodreads rating: 3.45 (1489 ratings)
small image	preview: click here [close]
med image	preview: click here [close]
BBCode	[url=http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3690187-jeff-in-venice-death-in-varanasi?utm_medium=api&utm_source=blog_book][img]http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1320528772l/3690187.jpg[/img][/url] [url=http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3690187-jeff-in-venice-death-in-varanasi?utm_medium=api&utm_source=blog_book]Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi by Geoff Dyer[/url]

Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi

Friend Reviews

Lists with This Book

Community Reviews

new topic
Discuss This Book

combine
Other Editions (21)

Genres

Readers also enjoyed similar books

About Geoff Dyer

Books by Geoff Dyer

Share This Book

Share This Book on Your Website

Trivia About Amor en Venecia, ...

Quotes from Jeff in Venice, Death ...