What do you think?
Rate this book
The Turning Point: Thirty-Five Years in this Century, the Autobiography of Klaus Mann
The eldest son of Thomas Mann sketches this group portrait of the Mann family. The Manns were the first intellectuals to leave Nazi Germany and to organize a resistance movement. Klaus Mann became a leading writer in the fight against Nazism.
412 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1942
41 people are currently reading
840 people want to read
About the author
Klaus Mann
141 books150 followers Born in Munich, Klaus Mann was the son of German writer Thomas Mann and his wife, Katia Pringsheim. His father was baptized as a Lutheran, while his mother was from a family of secular Jews.
Mann's most famous novel, Mephisto, was written in 1936 and first published in Amsterdam. The novel is a thinly-disguised portrait of his former brother-in-law, the actor Gustaf Gründgens. The literary scandal surrounding it made Mann posthumously famous in West Germany, as Gründgens' adopted son brought a legal case to have the novel banned after its first publication in West Germany in the early 1960s. After seven years of legal hearings, the West German Supreme Court upheld the ban, although it continued to be available in East Germany and abroad. The ban was lifted and the novel published in West Germany in 1981.
Mann died in Cannes from an overdose of sleeping pills on 21 May 1949, following further drug treatment. He likely committed suicide because of financial problems and social isolation. He was buried in Cannes at the Cimetière du Grand Jas.
Mann's most famous novel, Mephisto, was written in 1936 and first published in Amsterdam. The novel is a thinly-disguised portrait of his former brother-in-law, the actor Gustaf Gründgens. The literary scandal surrounding it made Mann posthumously famous in West Germany, as Gründgens' adopted son brought a legal case to have the novel banned after its first publication in West Germany in the early 1960s. After seven years of legal hearings, the West German Supreme Court upheld the ban, although it continued to be available in East Germany and abroad. The ban was lifted and the novel published in West Germany in 1981.
Mann died in Cannes from an overdose of sleeping pills on 21 May 1949, following further drug treatment. He likely committed suicide because of financial problems and social isolation. He was buried in Cannes at the Cimetière du Grand Jas.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 40 reviews
Read
December 21, 2021I was halfway through this memoir before I realised who Klaus Mann reminded me of, and then it was so obvious I wondered at my slowness. Yes, the more of his words I read, the more I thought about the character Christian from his father's Buddenbrooks, a novel based on four generations of the Mann family in their native Lübeck, which means the character of Christian loosely corresponds to Thomas's wayward uncle, whom, according to Klaus (the fifth generation), the Lübeck bourgeoisie might have described as a good-for-nothing neurotic. But as portrayed in 'Buddenbrooks', the wayward uncle (to Hanno) appealed to me a lot. Yes, Christian was irresponsible in contrast to his more sober brother Tom (who corresponds to Thomas's father) and to his more dutiful sister Tony (who is based on Thomas's Aunt Elizabeth) but I found him more interesting than either of them—until the author sent him off on his travels, and, since the novel was only about what was happening to the family in Lübeck, Christian disappeared from the narrative for long stretches, and each time he returned, he was presented as more diminished and dissipated, much to my disappointment.
So what has all this to do with Klaus Mann's portrait of himself and his times? Well, even though he makes clear how much his family, his father in particular, disapprove of his lifestyle and his choices, he came across to me as a very interesting and sometimes brilliant person though definitely a bit neurotic and more than a bit irresponsible. His memoir itself swings between the extremes of brilliance and overwraughtedness. I thought the passages on memory were exceptional though a little tragic: What, then, do I remember? Who is the lad I recognize in the twilight of that drawing room? Is he the one who wore the silky curls? Or is it already his “aging” brother who wistfully gazes at the splendor that used to be his own? Do I remember the curls or only the reflection they left in the mind of a curl-less child?....The baby carriage is the paradise lost. The only happy period in our life is that part of it we spent asleep. There is no happiness where there is memory. To remember things means to yearn for the past. Our nostalgia begins with our consciousness.
Some of the memories are more lighthearted, for instance the story of how he and his sister, Erika, came to call his father 'der Zauberer', the Magician. The two children had been troubled by fears of a headless ghost haunting their bedroom but Thomas knew the right formula to make the ghost disappear. In fact, the passages about his father at different points in his life are all very well caught, like mini portraits. Take for example the following recollection from the WWI period: This wartime father seems estranged and distant, essentially different from the father I have known before and after those years of struggle and bitterness. The paternal physiognomy that looms up when I recall that period, seems devoid of the kindness and irony which both inseparably belong to his character. The face I visualize looks severe and somber — a proud and nervous brow with sensitive temples and sunken cheeks. Curiously enough, it is a “bearded” face, a long, haggard oval framed by a hard, prickly beard. He never wore a beard, though, except once in Tölz for a few weeks or months. However, this martial caprice must have considerably impressed me. The wartime father is bearded. His features, at once proud and worried, resemble those of a Spanish knight and nobleman — the errant hero and dreamer called Don Quixote.
There are many references to his father's habit of spending long undisturbed hours working in his study, a place the children rarely entered and about which Thomas was obsessive: It irritated, indeed, offended him to see a tiny item on his spacious desk removed from its traditional place; the same Magician who would overlook a new set of armchairs in another part of the house was likely to complain when the blind eyes of his Homer bust were not properly dusted. This gentle pedantry in respect to his own belongings became even more obstinate when the item in question happened to be a family relic from Lübeck. Baroque monstrosities like stuffed bears or golden tankards were treasured throughout the years, in memory of past birthday parties or long-forgotten business jubilees. At bottom, of course, he was fully aware of his weakness; it was not without self-irony that he indulged in it. Characteristically, he would not allow the hideous bears or bowls to disturb the harmony of his sanctum. Those bizarre adornments were reserved to the dining room or the lobby.
Klaus's father's steady work ethic is a contrast to Klaus's own life. As an adolescent, he flitted from boarding school to boarding school before dropping out of education altogether and taking to his bed at home with some unnamed psychological disorder. But very soon he was off again and he and his sister Erika spent the next fifteen years moving from city to city across the world. Klaus supported himself by writing for magazines or putting on plays or writing stories and novels but always needed money from home because, as he says himself, it was my mania — or a kind of fear of anticlimactic developments — to break up situations before they might become stale. I ruined (and sometimes saved) human relations, professional opportunities, studies and pleasures, by rushing away, just in order to move, to change, to remain alive.
This 'problem child' has a great gift for describing the cities he visited in his 'erratic scurry' across the globe, and as he invariably found himself mixing with leading figures in the literary and music worlds (as the son of the famous Thomas Mann), his mini portraits of the people he met are very interesting. Jean Cocteau, for example, and Jean Giraudoux, André Gide, Henri Barbusse (who accused Klaus of being politically 'superficial and irresponsible' for wanting a Europe without borders), Marc Chagall, Saint-Exupery, Stefan Zweig, W H Auden, Christopher Isherwood, H. L. Mencken, Upton Sinclair, and many more.
But the section I enjoyed the most was his tribute to famous figures of the past. He created an imaginary Olympus which he peopled with writers, artists, philosophers—and even with some literary characters. The Olympus chapter reads like a play where various figures enter the stage and converse with each other. One such tableau has Marcel Proust muttering to himself in his bedroom while Freud observes him and pronounces on his case. Oh, and Jesus of Nazareth also gets a part.
The final chapters of the memoir are about the lead up to WWII and Klaus's permanent exile from Germany—he'd been very outspoken about fascism all his adult life and it was no longer safe for him inside Germany's borders. Several of his novels are about the theme of exile and uprootedness, which he admits to have been the crux of his entire life's experience.
Towards the end of the memoir, Klaus Mann makes a very eloquent statement of his intentions in writing it:
To tell the story of an intellectual in the period from 1920 to 1940 — a character who spent the best time of his life in a social and spiritual vacuum; striving for a true community but never finding it; disconnected, restless, wandering; haunted by those solemn abstractions in which nobody else believes — civilization, progress, liberty.
To tell the story of a German who wanted to be a European: of a European who wanted to be a citizen of the world. Of an individualist equally opposed to standardization and anarchy. Every testimony counts. Why should mine be worthless?
In the last chapter which is in the form of diary entries from 1942, he writes that he is planning to enlist in the US army, hoping to be sent to Europe to fight. The photo on the cover of my edition shows him in uniform in Italy in 1944.
One of the last diary entries tells of the suicide of his friend Stefan Zweig, only one of many of his friends and contacts who ended their lives in the 1930s and early 40s. He himself chose to end his own life in 1949
So what has all this to do with Klaus Mann's portrait of himself and his times? Well, even though he makes clear how much his family, his father in particular, disapprove of his lifestyle and his choices, he came across to me as a very interesting and sometimes brilliant person though definitely a bit neurotic and more than a bit irresponsible. His memoir itself swings between the extremes of brilliance and overwraughtedness. I thought the passages on memory were exceptional though a little tragic: What, then, do I remember? Who is the lad I recognize in the twilight of that drawing room? Is he the one who wore the silky curls? Or is it already his “aging” brother who wistfully gazes at the splendor that used to be his own? Do I remember the curls or only the reflection they left in the mind of a curl-less child?....The baby carriage is the paradise lost. The only happy period in our life is that part of it we spent asleep. There is no happiness where there is memory. To remember things means to yearn for the past. Our nostalgia begins with our consciousness.
Some of the memories are more lighthearted, for instance the story of how he and his sister, Erika, came to call his father 'der Zauberer', the Magician. The two children had been troubled by fears of a headless ghost haunting their bedroom but Thomas knew the right formula to make the ghost disappear. In fact, the passages about his father at different points in his life are all very well caught, like mini portraits. Take for example the following recollection from the WWI period: This wartime father seems estranged and distant, essentially different from the father I have known before and after those years of struggle and bitterness. The paternal physiognomy that looms up when I recall that period, seems devoid of the kindness and irony which both inseparably belong to his character. The face I visualize looks severe and somber — a proud and nervous brow with sensitive temples and sunken cheeks. Curiously enough, it is a “bearded” face, a long, haggard oval framed by a hard, prickly beard. He never wore a beard, though, except once in Tölz for a few weeks or months. However, this martial caprice must have considerably impressed me. The wartime father is bearded. His features, at once proud and worried, resemble those of a Spanish knight and nobleman — the errant hero and dreamer called Don Quixote.
There are many references to his father's habit of spending long undisturbed hours working in his study, a place the children rarely entered and about which Thomas was obsessive: It irritated, indeed, offended him to see a tiny item on his spacious desk removed from its traditional place; the same Magician who would overlook a new set of armchairs in another part of the house was likely to complain when the blind eyes of his Homer bust were not properly dusted. This gentle pedantry in respect to his own belongings became even more obstinate when the item in question happened to be a family relic from Lübeck. Baroque monstrosities like stuffed bears or golden tankards were treasured throughout the years, in memory of past birthday parties or long-forgotten business jubilees. At bottom, of course, he was fully aware of his weakness; it was not without self-irony that he indulged in it. Characteristically, he would not allow the hideous bears or bowls to disturb the harmony of his sanctum. Those bizarre adornments were reserved to the dining room or the lobby.
Klaus's father's steady work ethic is a contrast to Klaus's own life. As an adolescent, he flitted from boarding school to boarding school before dropping out of education altogether and taking to his bed at home with some unnamed psychological disorder. But very soon he was off again and he and his sister Erika spent the next fifteen years moving from city to city across the world. Klaus supported himself by writing for magazines or putting on plays or writing stories and novels but always needed money from home because, as he says himself, it was my mania — or a kind of fear of anticlimactic developments — to break up situations before they might become stale. I ruined (and sometimes saved) human relations, professional opportunities, studies and pleasures, by rushing away, just in order to move, to change, to remain alive.
This 'problem child' has a great gift for describing the cities he visited in his 'erratic scurry' across the globe, and as he invariably found himself mixing with leading figures in the literary and music worlds (as the son of the famous Thomas Mann), his mini portraits of the people he met are very interesting. Jean Cocteau, for example, and Jean Giraudoux, André Gide, Henri Barbusse (who accused Klaus of being politically 'superficial and irresponsible' for wanting a Europe without borders), Marc Chagall, Saint-Exupery, Stefan Zweig, W H Auden, Christopher Isherwood, H. L. Mencken, Upton Sinclair, and many more.
But the section I enjoyed the most was his tribute to famous figures of the past. He created an imaginary Olympus which he peopled with writers, artists, philosophers—and even with some literary characters. The Olympus chapter reads like a play where various figures enter the stage and converse with each other. One such tableau has Marcel Proust muttering to himself in his bedroom while Freud observes him and pronounces on his case. Oh, and Jesus of Nazareth also gets a part.
The final chapters of the memoir are about the lead up to WWII and Klaus's permanent exile from Germany—he'd been very outspoken about fascism all his adult life and it was no longer safe for him inside Germany's borders. Several of his novels are about the theme of exile and uprootedness, which he admits to have been the crux of his entire life's experience.
Towards the end of the memoir, Klaus Mann makes a very eloquent statement of his intentions in writing it:
To tell the story of an intellectual in the period from 1920 to 1940 — a character who spent the best time of his life in a social and spiritual vacuum; striving for a true community but never finding it; disconnected, restless, wandering; haunted by those solemn abstractions in which nobody else believes — civilization, progress, liberty.
To tell the story of a German who wanted to be a European: of a European who wanted to be a citizen of the world. Of an individualist equally opposed to standardization and anarchy. Every testimony counts. Why should mine be worthless?
In the last chapter which is in the form of diary entries from 1942, he writes that he is planning to enlist in the US army, hoping to be sent to Europe to fight. The photo on the cover of my edition shows him in uniform in Italy in 1944.
One of the last diary entries tells of the suicide of his friend Stefan Zweig, only one of many of his friends and contacts who ended their lives in the 1930s and early 40s. He himself chose to end his own life in 1949
April 26, 2015
"The baby carriage is the paradise lost. The only happy period in our life is that part of it we spent asleep. There is no happiness where there is memory. To remember things means to yearn for the past. Our nostalgia begins with out consciousness."
I nearly started this post pointing out again that Klaus Mann's literary output has always suffered from being overshadowed by the works of his father. But really, whilst this is true, I don't want to lead the discussion into a comparison of Klaus and Thomas because I personally have a much higher regard for Klaus' writing. He was a master satirist, a sensitive observer, and at the same time he had a passion for making a point.
The Turning Point is partly a memoir and partly a historical sketch describing both the Mann household and the political and social events that shaped the family and the first half of the 20th century. Klaus' wit shines through at the beginning of the book, but the latter parts are full of his disdain of German politics during the rise of Nazism, which eventually lead him to be utterly frustrated with German society which cast him out and which he could not return to. Even on his return to Germany from exile at the end of the war, he could no longer fit in - because people had changed. There was no going back.
I highly recommend this book to anyone who has an interest in the Mann family or the detail of political and cultural life in Germany during the 1920s and 30s. My recommendation does, however, come with a caveat: I did get the impression that Klaus was not the most reliable of narrators. It is not that I felt he was deliberately misleading, but in the first instance, he was a novelist and a dramatist, and I got the impression that at times poetic licence may have prevailed over research or analysis.
Still, it is a a fascinating read and we do get to find out why Thomas Mann was referred to as "the magician":
"He came to see us at bedtime - a rare event in itself! - and developed his proposed strategy. The decapitated guest, he suggested, wasn't really so frightful. He tried to get the better of us by sheer bluff. "Just don't look at him when he comes again!" he advised us. "Then he'll probably vanish. If he still annoys you ask him politely to beat it. Tell him that a children's bedroom is no place for a decent phantom to hang out and that he should be ashamed of himself. This may be enough to get rid of him, but if he still hesitates, you may warn him that your father is very irritable and just doesn't like to have ugly spooks in his house. At this point he'll disappear without making any more fuss. For it is a well-known fact in ghostly circles that I can make myself very unpleasant, indeed."
We followed his advice and the spook presently dissolved. It was an imposing proof of Father's almost superhuman insight and influence. From that time on we began to call him "Zauberer" - magician."
I nearly started this post pointing out again that Klaus Mann's literary output has always suffered from being overshadowed by the works of his father. But really, whilst this is true, I don't want to lead the discussion into a comparison of Klaus and Thomas because I personally have a much higher regard for Klaus' writing. He was a master satirist, a sensitive observer, and at the same time he had a passion for making a point.
The Turning Point is partly a memoir and partly a historical sketch describing both the Mann household and the political and social events that shaped the family and the first half of the 20th century. Klaus' wit shines through at the beginning of the book, but the latter parts are full of his disdain of German politics during the rise of Nazism, which eventually lead him to be utterly frustrated with German society which cast him out and which he could not return to. Even on his return to Germany from exile at the end of the war, he could no longer fit in - because people had changed. There was no going back.
I highly recommend this book to anyone who has an interest in the Mann family or the detail of political and cultural life in Germany during the 1920s and 30s. My recommendation does, however, come with a caveat: I did get the impression that Klaus was not the most reliable of narrators. It is not that I felt he was deliberately misleading, but in the first instance, he was a novelist and a dramatist, and I got the impression that at times poetic licence may have prevailed over research or analysis.
Still, it is a a fascinating read and we do get to find out why Thomas Mann was referred to as "the magician":
"He came to see us at bedtime - a rare event in itself! - and developed his proposed strategy. The decapitated guest, he suggested, wasn't really so frightful. He tried to get the better of us by sheer bluff. "Just don't look at him when he comes again!" he advised us. "Then he'll probably vanish. If he still annoys you ask him politely to beat it. Tell him that a children's bedroom is no place for a decent phantom to hang out and that he should be ashamed of himself. This may be enough to get rid of him, but if he still hesitates, you may warn him that your father is very irritable and just doesn't like to have ugly spooks in his house. At this point he'll disappear without making any more fuss. For it is a well-known fact in ghostly circles that I can make myself very unpleasant, indeed."
We followed his advice and the spook presently dissolved. It was an imposing proof of Father's almost superhuman insight and influence. From that time on we began to call him "Zauberer" - magician."
March 13, 2017
67/100 Nicht schlecht, aber schrecklich schlampig. Natürlich kann man in die Verwandlung vom großbürgerlichen Roman über politische Gesellschafts-Reportage zur schlichten Montage von Briefen vor dem lange angedeuteten Selbstmord so etwas wie ein Konzept von der Entfaltung eines Talents bis zum Verstummen des Schriftstellers hinein lesen, aber vermutlich haben eher die ausgeblendeten Lebensumstände dazu beigetragen, dass der Wendepunkt im weiteren Fortschreiten immer verhudelter wirkt. Ansonsten typische Söhnchenliteratur, sprich Ausbeutung eigener Leiden und des ererbten bzw. durch den gesellschaftlichen Status der Eltern erreichten und um Angehörige der eigenen Generation erweiterten Bekanntenkreises durch die komplette Schriftstellerkarriere.
Peter Viertel hat diese Gattung auf ihren Gipfel geführt, Bernward Vesper ist ehrlicher beim Austragen der Konflikte mit dem Vater und dem Umgang mit der eigenen Drogenkarriere*, aber selbst wenn man KM zugute hält, dass man manche Sachen besser für sich behält, wenn man sich um eine amerikanische Staatsbürgerschaft bemüht oder nicht ohne väterliche Beihilfen auskommen kann, bleibt der Wendpunkt eine insgesamt unbefriedigende Lektüre, gelegentliche Höhepunkte verstärken sogar noch diesen Eindruck. (Ausführliche Rezi mit Einordnung in den Kontext folgt, hoffentlich, bald)
*zugegeben eine Generation später und in einem anderen gesellschaftlichen Umfeld
Peter Viertel hat diese Gattung auf ihren Gipfel geführt, Bernward Vesper ist ehrlicher beim Austragen der Konflikte mit dem Vater und dem Umgang mit der eigenen Drogenkarriere*, aber selbst wenn man KM zugute hält, dass man manche Sachen besser für sich behält, wenn man sich um eine amerikanische Staatsbürgerschaft bemüht oder nicht ohne väterliche Beihilfen auskommen kann, bleibt der Wendpunkt eine insgesamt unbefriedigende Lektüre, gelegentliche Höhepunkte verstärken sogar noch diesen Eindruck. (Ausführliche Rezi mit Einordnung in den Kontext folgt, hoffentlich, bald)
*zugegeben eine Generation später und in einem anderen gesellschaftlichen Umfeld
March 11, 2017
Bewertung aus der Erinnerung: Mir gefiel das Buch damals sehr, weil es teilweise auch um die Emigrantenszene geht. Und weil man viel über die Kultur der 20er Jahre erfährt. Tolles Zeitzeugnis!
October 12, 2014
Voor mijn negentiende verjaardag kreeg ik Klaus Mann's Mephisto cadeau van mijn vader, hij had het in zijn jonge jaren met plezier gelezen. Ik vond het een aardig boek. De thematiek, het leven in de vrijpostige Weimar-republiek en de contrasterende striktheid van het daarop volgende nazi-regime, sprak me aan omdat ik net de 'Berlijnse boeken' van Christopher Isherwood had verslonden. Na het volgen van een vak over autobiografische ruimte kocht ik dit boek bij bol.com. Dit was ongeveer zeven jaar geleden. Een schrijver die ik met plezier had gelezen en een historische periode die me aanstond; wat kon er misgaan? Ik wilde zelfs mijn bachelorscriptie over exil-schrijvers schrijven. Vol goede moed begon ik aan deze dikke pil, maar ik strandde op pagina 300. Ik vond het mooi, maar het lukte me niet om verder te lezen. Inmiddels ging mijn scriptie over dierkwellende spelen en besloot ik dat dikke pillen niet voor mij waren. Het lag niet aan het boek, het lag aan mij.
Deze zomer ging ik op vakantie in Italië, naar een villa in een prachtige streek, waar weinig te doen was. De uitgelezen mogelijkheid om die doorn in mijn oog, dat halfgelezen prachtige boek, dat maar dik stond te zijn in mijn boekenkast, eindelijk uit te lezen. Om deze jeugdzonde compleet uit te wassen, begon ik helemaal opnieuw. Nu heb ik hem dus uit en ik snap meer dan ooit waarom ik dit boek heb laten liggen.
De eerste 300 bladzijden gaan over de jeugd van Klaus Mann, het gezin Mann, met alle fabels die je bij een schrijversfamilie verwacht. De Tovenaar, Thomas Mann, is een amusant karakter en het incident met de oppas, de beschrijvingen van de grootouders en familiegasten zijn ronduit komisch. Dit alles terwijl de dreigende wolken van het nationaal-socialisme bijeen drijven. Maar dan gaat het mis. Het is dat ik die vakantie weinig te doen had, maar ik zou zo wéér gestopt zijn. Klaus Mann is de zoon van de grote schrijver, de Nobel-prijswinnaar, en wil duidelijk maken dat hij zijn eigen leven vormgeeft, de schaduw van zijn vader ontloopt. Dit doet hij door een lange lijst te geven van mensen die hij kent. Soms weet hij de tijdsgeest prikkelend te beschrijven of is zijn beeld van de toekomst akelig correct, maar het middenstuk duurt veel te lang. Het is een sterk staaltje name dropping. Ik moest er doorheen ploegen en pas in het laatste hoofdstuk, dat voornamelijk uit brieven bestaat, wordt het weer te behappen. Hij dient dan in het Amerikaanse leger en filosofeert over de toekomst. Het bezoek aan zijn uitgebrande ouderlijk huis, waarin een jonge zwerfster woont, is prachtig geschreven. Voor mij hoeft Klaus Mann niet te bewijzen dat hij Thomas Mann niet is, ik heb immers nooit wat van Thomas Mann gelezen. Natuurlijk wordt een mens beïnvloed door zijn omgeving, zijn vrienden, kennissen en grote voorbeelden, maar ik had graag wat meer gelezen over zijn persoonlijke leven. Zonder het nawoord te lezen zou je niet kunnen bevroeden dat hij er in 1949 zelf een eind aan maakte. Ik snap mezelf van zeven jaar terug. Dit is een mooi boek, maar echt voor de liefhebber of de kenner.
Deze zomer ging ik op vakantie in Italië, naar een villa in een prachtige streek, waar weinig te doen was. De uitgelezen mogelijkheid om die doorn in mijn oog, dat halfgelezen prachtige boek, dat maar dik stond te zijn in mijn boekenkast, eindelijk uit te lezen. Om deze jeugdzonde compleet uit te wassen, begon ik helemaal opnieuw. Nu heb ik hem dus uit en ik snap meer dan ooit waarom ik dit boek heb laten liggen.
De eerste 300 bladzijden gaan over de jeugd van Klaus Mann, het gezin Mann, met alle fabels die je bij een schrijversfamilie verwacht. De Tovenaar, Thomas Mann, is een amusant karakter en het incident met de oppas, de beschrijvingen van de grootouders en familiegasten zijn ronduit komisch. Dit alles terwijl de dreigende wolken van het nationaal-socialisme bijeen drijven. Maar dan gaat het mis. Het is dat ik die vakantie weinig te doen had, maar ik zou zo wéér gestopt zijn. Klaus Mann is de zoon van de grote schrijver, de Nobel-prijswinnaar, en wil duidelijk maken dat hij zijn eigen leven vormgeeft, de schaduw van zijn vader ontloopt. Dit doet hij door een lange lijst te geven van mensen die hij kent. Soms weet hij de tijdsgeest prikkelend te beschrijven of is zijn beeld van de toekomst akelig correct, maar het middenstuk duurt veel te lang. Het is een sterk staaltje name dropping. Ik moest er doorheen ploegen en pas in het laatste hoofdstuk, dat voornamelijk uit brieven bestaat, wordt het weer te behappen. Hij dient dan in het Amerikaanse leger en filosofeert over de toekomst. Het bezoek aan zijn uitgebrande ouderlijk huis, waarin een jonge zwerfster woont, is prachtig geschreven. Voor mij hoeft Klaus Mann niet te bewijzen dat hij Thomas Mann niet is, ik heb immers nooit wat van Thomas Mann gelezen. Natuurlijk wordt een mens beïnvloed door zijn omgeving, zijn vrienden, kennissen en grote voorbeelden, maar ik had graag wat meer gelezen over zijn persoonlijke leven. Zonder het nawoord te lezen zou je niet kunnen bevroeden dat hij er in 1949 zelf een eind aan maakte. Ik snap mezelf van zeven jaar terug. Dit is een mooi boek, maar echt voor de liefhebber of de kenner.
June 12, 2018
It’s absolutely stunning! To be honest - it isn’t perfect at all but it is an autobiography and biographies in general should be not perfect but a picture of the person behind. And it is a fantastic picture of adorable Klaus Mann, also of the time he lived in, an eventful, interesting and important time - 1910-1940’s. The things he had to say - partly political - are still relevant and highly interesting nowadays. They may not be always right but this is not the matter at this point.
And in general, his vocabulary is so full of words I know but I never use (which of course is natural for a book written in 1940’s) and he writes so eloquent, wich made me enjoy reading the book even more. Also, he talks with so much love and enthusiasm about art, mostly literature. It really made me think of the way I think about what I read and he made me feel like I have to read all this books he talks about and much more.
So, Klaus Mann was an interesting personality, having an interesting family and also interesting friends, living in an interesting time and finally, having so much interesting to tell.
And in general, his vocabulary is so full of words I know but I never use (which of course is natural for a book written in 1940’s) and he writes so eloquent, wich made me enjoy reading the book even more. Also, he talks with so much love and enthusiasm about art, mostly literature. It really made me think of the way I think about what I read and he made me feel like I have to read all this books he talks about and much more.
So, Klaus Mann was an interesting personality, having an interesting family and also interesting friends, living in an interesting time and finally, having so much interesting to tell.
January 27, 2022
Bijna een jaar over gedaan, met name de eerste helft moeilijk door te komen. Daarna begonnen de voor mij interessantere onderwerpen en werd het steeds beter.
December 4, 2017
Recensione originale: https://sonnenbarke.wordpress.com/201...
Questo libro, l’autobiografia di Klaus Mann, è stato pubblicato per la prima volta negli Stati Uniti nel 1942 e originariamente scritto in inglese. L’edizione tedesca è stata riveduta e ampliata dallo stesso autore e, anziché fermarsi al 1942, arriva fino al 1945. Pubblicata in Germania dopo la morte dell’autore, approda in Italia grazie al Saggiatore con il titolo La svolta: Storia di una vita. Ignoro se l’edizione italiana sia stata tradotta dall’inglese o dal tedesco, ma vedo online che conta appena 463 pagine contro le 738 dell’edizione tedesca, il che mi fa pensare che sia stata tradotta dalla versione inglese, la quale ha ben 300 pagine in meno rispetto alla tedesca.
Klaus Mann, figlio secondogenito di Thomas Mann, è nato nel 1906 e morto suicida nel 1949. Ha vissuto moltissimi anni negli Stati Uniti, auto-esiliatosi subito dopo l’avvento al potere di Hitler. Il Reich gli tolse la cittadinanza tedesca e fu per un po’ apolide, per poi ricevere la cittadinanza dall’allora Repubblica Ceca e acquisire in seguito la cittadinanza americana, da lui molto desiderata.
Klaus ha sempre avuto un rapporto molto stretto con la sorella Erika, di appena un anno maggiore, tanto che spesso si presentavano come gemelli. Molto si è scritto di Klaus Mann: che sarebbe stato il “figlio fallito” di Thomas Mann, che sarebbe stato in conflitto con il padre a causa della propria omosessualità dichiarata, che non ci sarebbe stato alcun punto di svolta nella sua vita… Tutto questo, a parer mio, perde d’importanza di fronte alla portata artistica e di documento storico e biografico di questa autobiografia, scritta quando l’autore non aveva ancora 40 anni. Del resto non vi è praticamente traccia di queste (oserei dire morbose) questioni nel libro di Klaus Mann, per cui non vedo perché dovrei stare a trattarle qui, anche perché se proprio vi interessano troverete un sacco di articoli in proposito.
Come scrive il nipote Frido Mann nella postfazione, questa autobiografia si può dividere in tre parti che affrontano tre tematiche principali: l’infanzia e il rapporto con la sua famosa famiglia, la carriera di scrittore e infine l’impegno politico e militare contro il Terzo Reich.
La prima parte dedicata all’infanzia e all’adolescenza è scritta in un registro ironico piacevolissimo da leggere. Klaus parla del rapporto con i genitori, con i nonni materni e paterni, con i suoi cinque fra fratelli e sorelle, con i suoi compagni di scuola e amici. Naturalmente per il lettore riveste o può rivestire particolare interesse la parte che riguarda il padre, il famoso premio Nobel Thomas Mann. E tuttavia non è questo rapporto il tema principale dell’autobiografia, e se vi interessa la storia della famiglia Mann dovrete cercare altrove. Klaus parla con molto affetto dei suoi familiari e ci racconta che loro bambini avevano un soprannome per ciascuno, per esempio il padre era “il Mago”. Racconta diversi aneddoti della storia di famiglia e delle sue prime amicizie, racconta soprattutto il clima che si respirava in casa e fuori, che sostanzialmente era un clima come dicevo affettuoso, seppure non idilliaco, naturalmente.
Crescendo, Klaus conosce innumerevoli persone comuni e innumerevoli personalità della cultura del tempo. Alla fine del libro c’è un indice analitico con tutti i personaggi menzionati, e vi dico solo che è lungo 7 pagine scritte fitte. La maggior parte dei nomi sono famosi o famosissimi, ma sono talmente tanti che sarebbe davvero inutile fare degli esempi. Pensate solo alle personalità della letteratura, del teatro, della politica, della musica di quell’epoca: Klaus conosceva tutti o quasi, naturalmente soprattutto in ambito di lingua tedesca, ma non solo. Infatti Klaus ed Erika viaggiarono molto da ragazzi, facendo anche un giro intorno al mondo, e conobbero così importanti personalità anche di altri paesi, ad esempio francesi e americani. Erika stessa si sposò in seconde nozze con il famoso poeta W. H. Auden, un matrimonio di comodo per entrambi affinché la donna potesse ottenere la cittadinanza britannica dopo essere stata privata di quella tedesca.
Klaus parla dunque dei suoi rapporti con scrittori, attori e altri personaggi della cultura e della politica, con molti dei quali intreccia veri rapporti di amicizia. Al contempo ci parla della sua nascente carriera di scrittore all’ombra dell’ingombrante nome del padre, da cui la paura di essere pubblicato solo per il suo cognome, mentre invece pian piano cominciano a emergere i veri talenti letterari del giovane autore. Klaus ha scritto innumerevoli libri oltre a questa autobiografia, ma ai più risulta ad oggi sconosciuto, soprattutto in Italia. Nella postfazione invece Frido Mann ci dice che all’inizio degli anni Ottanta si ebbe in Germania un vero e proprio boom, una tardiva riscoperta di Klaus Mann come scrittore, dopo essere stato ignorato in patria per tutto il dopoguerra. Una personalità troppo scomoda nella Germania post-nazista? Chiaramente antifascista ma mai comunista, Klaus era tuttavia malvisto nei circoli culturali della Germania del dopoguerra, ragion per cui non vide mai un singolo romanzo pubblicato in patria dopo la guerra e morì praticamente dimenticato in patria. Questo almeno ci dice Frido Mann nella postfazione.
All’avvento del nazismo, inizialmente Klaus sottovaluta le potenzialità pericolose di Hitler, che un giorno vede in un caffè, seduto proprio accanto a lui, e che descrive come «un ometto antipatico, ma certamente innocuo». Tuttavia poco tempo dopo sarà tra i primi a capire la pericolosità di Hitler e della sua politica, tanto che già nei primi anni Trenta scriverà che, se non si fosse fermato subito Hitler, nel giro di un paio d’anni il prezzo sarebbe stato altissimo, sarebbe costato milioni di vite umane. Profetico, o forse solo una persona che riusciva a vedere oltre.
Nel 1942-43 Klaus cerca di entrare nell’esercito americano e infine ci riuscirà, seppure con difficoltà e con tempi lunghi. Gli verrà conferita la cittadinanza americana e finalmente potrà arruolarsi e andare a combattere in Europa, dove passa molto tempo in Italia, Francia e Germania, partecipando alla liberazione. Klaus sembra quasi risorgere una volta entrato nell’esercito: ce ne accorgiamo particolarmente bene perché gli ultimi due capitoli, quelli aggiunti nell’edizione tedesca, sono composti da diari e lettere. Prima di entrare nell’esercito Klaus parla spessissimo di «desiderio di morte», in seguito sembra una persona nuova, forse perché, come dice Frido Mann nella postfazione, è riuscito a trovare una sua dimensione all’interno di un ambiente sociale, anziché essere costantemente solo (pur se circondato di amici) come lo era stato prima e come lo sarà dopo.
Di morte e soprattutto di suicidio si parla tantissimo in questo libro: moltissimi saranno i parenti e gli amici morti per suicidio, e Klaus stesso si suiciderà nel 1949 dopo un tentativo fallito appena pochi mesi prima. I suicidi degli amici lasciano Klaus completamente sconvolto, tuttavia in parte li comprende perché lui stesso ha sempre sentito questo richiamo della morte, seppure non sempre con la stessa intensità. In particolare Klaus si trova di fronte a innumerevoli suicidi durante il periodo del nazismo, perché molti non riuscirono a sopportare l’esilio, trovandosi senza patria: avevano perso la vecchia patria e non riuscivano a fare del nuovo posto in cui vivevano una nuova patria. Per non parlare del fatto che molti artisti tedeschi furono costretti al silenzio dal regime e inevitabilmente condannati all’oblio.
Per concludere posso dire che questa autobiografia riveste un interesse particolare, e secondo me non soltanto per chi conosca Klaus Mann come scrittore (io stessa non lo conoscevo affatto, e mi sono imbattuta in questo libro solo grazie a un mercatino dell’usato quando vivevo in Lussemburgo), e non solo per chi ami Thomas Mann (dato che come ho sottolineato questo libro solo parzialmente e brevemente parla davvero del padre). Questo libro, secondo me, può risultare interessante per chiunque sia interessato a conoscere la storia sociale e artistica del periodo tra le due guerre, e in particolar modo per chi sia interessato alla lettura di un libro molto ben scritto e affascinante sia per i temi affrontati che per lo stile. Dunque, mi sento di consigliare caldamente la lettura dell’autobiografia di Klaus Mann a chiunque rientri in queste categorie. Non credo che ve ne pentirete.
Questo libro, l’autobiografia di Klaus Mann, è stato pubblicato per la prima volta negli Stati Uniti nel 1942 e originariamente scritto in inglese. L’edizione tedesca è stata riveduta e ampliata dallo stesso autore e, anziché fermarsi al 1942, arriva fino al 1945. Pubblicata in Germania dopo la morte dell’autore, approda in Italia grazie al Saggiatore con il titolo La svolta: Storia di una vita. Ignoro se l’edizione italiana sia stata tradotta dall’inglese o dal tedesco, ma vedo online che conta appena 463 pagine contro le 738 dell’edizione tedesca, il che mi fa pensare che sia stata tradotta dalla versione inglese, la quale ha ben 300 pagine in meno rispetto alla tedesca.
Klaus Mann, figlio secondogenito di Thomas Mann, è nato nel 1906 e morto suicida nel 1949. Ha vissuto moltissimi anni negli Stati Uniti, auto-esiliatosi subito dopo l’avvento al potere di Hitler. Il Reich gli tolse la cittadinanza tedesca e fu per un po’ apolide, per poi ricevere la cittadinanza dall’allora Repubblica Ceca e acquisire in seguito la cittadinanza americana, da lui molto desiderata.
Klaus ha sempre avuto un rapporto molto stretto con la sorella Erika, di appena un anno maggiore, tanto che spesso si presentavano come gemelli. Molto si è scritto di Klaus Mann: che sarebbe stato il “figlio fallito” di Thomas Mann, che sarebbe stato in conflitto con il padre a causa della propria omosessualità dichiarata, che non ci sarebbe stato alcun punto di svolta nella sua vita… Tutto questo, a parer mio, perde d’importanza di fronte alla portata artistica e di documento storico e biografico di questa autobiografia, scritta quando l’autore non aveva ancora 40 anni. Del resto non vi è praticamente traccia di queste (oserei dire morbose) questioni nel libro di Klaus Mann, per cui non vedo perché dovrei stare a trattarle qui, anche perché se proprio vi interessano troverete un sacco di articoli in proposito.
Come scrive il nipote Frido Mann nella postfazione, questa autobiografia si può dividere in tre parti che affrontano tre tematiche principali: l’infanzia e il rapporto con la sua famosa famiglia, la carriera di scrittore e infine l’impegno politico e militare contro il Terzo Reich.
La prima parte dedicata all’infanzia e all’adolescenza è scritta in un registro ironico piacevolissimo da leggere. Klaus parla del rapporto con i genitori, con i nonni materni e paterni, con i suoi cinque fra fratelli e sorelle, con i suoi compagni di scuola e amici. Naturalmente per il lettore riveste o può rivestire particolare interesse la parte che riguarda il padre, il famoso premio Nobel Thomas Mann. E tuttavia non è questo rapporto il tema principale dell’autobiografia, e se vi interessa la storia della famiglia Mann dovrete cercare altrove. Klaus parla con molto affetto dei suoi familiari e ci racconta che loro bambini avevano un soprannome per ciascuno, per esempio il padre era “il Mago”. Racconta diversi aneddoti della storia di famiglia e delle sue prime amicizie, racconta soprattutto il clima che si respirava in casa e fuori, che sostanzialmente era un clima come dicevo affettuoso, seppure non idilliaco, naturalmente.
Crescendo, Klaus conosce innumerevoli persone comuni e innumerevoli personalità della cultura del tempo. Alla fine del libro c’è un indice analitico con tutti i personaggi menzionati, e vi dico solo che è lungo 7 pagine scritte fitte. La maggior parte dei nomi sono famosi o famosissimi, ma sono talmente tanti che sarebbe davvero inutile fare degli esempi. Pensate solo alle personalità della letteratura, del teatro, della politica, della musica di quell’epoca: Klaus conosceva tutti o quasi, naturalmente soprattutto in ambito di lingua tedesca, ma non solo. Infatti Klaus ed Erika viaggiarono molto da ragazzi, facendo anche un giro intorno al mondo, e conobbero così importanti personalità anche di altri paesi, ad esempio francesi e americani. Erika stessa si sposò in seconde nozze con il famoso poeta W. H. Auden, un matrimonio di comodo per entrambi affinché la donna potesse ottenere la cittadinanza britannica dopo essere stata privata di quella tedesca.
Klaus parla dunque dei suoi rapporti con scrittori, attori e altri personaggi della cultura e della politica, con molti dei quali intreccia veri rapporti di amicizia. Al contempo ci parla della sua nascente carriera di scrittore all’ombra dell’ingombrante nome del padre, da cui la paura di essere pubblicato solo per il suo cognome, mentre invece pian piano cominciano a emergere i veri talenti letterari del giovane autore. Klaus ha scritto innumerevoli libri oltre a questa autobiografia, ma ai più risulta ad oggi sconosciuto, soprattutto in Italia. Nella postfazione invece Frido Mann ci dice che all’inizio degli anni Ottanta si ebbe in Germania un vero e proprio boom, una tardiva riscoperta di Klaus Mann come scrittore, dopo essere stato ignorato in patria per tutto il dopoguerra. Una personalità troppo scomoda nella Germania post-nazista? Chiaramente antifascista ma mai comunista, Klaus era tuttavia malvisto nei circoli culturali della Germania del dopoguerra, ragion per cui non vide mai un singolo romanzo pubblicato in patria dopo la guerra e morì praticamente dimenticato in patria. Questo almeno ci dice Frido Mann nella postfazione.
All’avvento del nazismo, inizialmente Klaus sottovaluta le potenzialità pericolose di Hitler, che un giorno vede in un caffè, seduto proprio accanto a lui, e che descrive come «un ometto antipatico, ma certamente innocuo». Tuttavia poco tempo dopo sarà tra i primi a capire la pericolosità di Hitler e della sua politica, tanto che già nei primi anni Trenta scriverà che, se non si fosse fermato subito Hitler, nel giro di un paio d’anni il prezzo sarebbe stato altissimo, sarebbe costato milioni di vite umane. Profetico, o forse solo una persona che riusciva a vedere oltre.
Nel 1942-43 Klaus cerca di entrare nell’esercito americano e infine ci riuscirà, seppure con difficoltà e con tempi lunghi. Gli verrà conferita la cittadinanza americana e finalmente potrà arruolarsi e andare a combattere in Europa, dove passa molto tempo in Italia, Francia e Germania, partecipando alla liberazione. Klaus sembra quasi risorgere una volta entrato nell’esercito: ce ne accorgiamo particolarmente bene perché gli ultimi due capitoli, quelli aggiunti nell’edizione tedesca, sono composti da diari e lettere. Prima di entrare nell’esercito Klaus parla spessissimo di «desiderio di morte», in seguito sembra una persona nuova, forse perché, come dice Frido Mann nella postfazione, è riuscito a trovare una sua dimensione all’interno di un ambiente sociale, anziché essere costantemente solo (pur se circondato di amici) come lo era stato prima e come lo sarà dopo.
Di morte e soprattutto di suicidio si parla tantissimo in questo libro: moltissimi saranno i parenti e gli amici morti per suicidio, e Klaus stesso si suiciderà nel 1949 dopo un tentativo fallito appena pochi mesi prima. I suicidi degli amici lasciano Klaus completamente sconvolto, tuttavia in parte li comprende perché lui stesso ha sempre sentito questo richiamo della morte, seppure non sempre con la stessa intensità. In particolare Klaus si trova di fronte a innumerevoli suicidi durante il periodo del nazismo, perché molti non riuscirono a sopportare l’esilio, trovandosi senza patria: avevano perso la vecchia patria e non riuscivano a fare del nuovo posto in cui vivevano una nuova patria. Per non parlare del fatto che molti artisti tedeschi furono costretti al silenzio dal regime e inevitabilmente condannati all’oblio.
Per concludere posso dire che questa autobiografia riveste un interesse particolare, e secondo me non soltanto per chi conosca Klaus Mann come scrittore (io stessa non lo conoscevo affatto, e mi sono imbattuta in questo libro solo grazie a un mercatino dell’usato quando vivevo in Lussemburgo), e non solo per chi ami Thomas Mann (dato che come ho sottolineato questo libro solo parzialmente e brevemente parla davvero del padre). Questo libro, secondo me, può risultare interessante per chiunque sia interessato a conoscere la storia sociale e artistica del periodo tra le due guerre, e in particolar modo per chi sia interessato alla lettura di un libro molto ben scritto e affascinante sia per i temi affrontati che per lo stile. Dunque, mi sento di consigliare caldamente la lettura dell’autobiografia di Klaus Mann a chiunque rientri in queste categorie. Non credo che ve ne pentirete.
December 19, 2020
Meine Lieblingsbiografie
3 x gelesen und auch als Hörbuch sehr empfehlenswert.
Kindheit und Emigration
Thomas Mann, Katia Mann und die Geschwister.
Seine Schwester Erika Mann und viele, viele Prominente.
Eine bunte Biografie mit Tiefe.
Ein Leben zwischen Erfolg und Tragik.
Selbstmord oder Űberdosis von Drogen?
3 x gelesen und auch als Hörbuch sehr empfehlenswert.
Kindheit und Emigration
Thomas Mann, Katia Mann und die Geschwister.
Seine Schwester Erika Mann und viele, viele Prominente.
Eine bunte Biografie mit Tiefe.
Ein Leben zwischen Erfolg und Tragik.
Selbstmord oder Űberdosis von Drogen?
July 10, 2024
Wat een revelatie. Deze autobiografie is fascinerend en zet mij aan genuanceerder naar de geschiedenis en de actualiteit te kijken. De beschrijvingen van de wereldwijde kunstenaarswereld is weergaloos. Ik heb enorm genoten van dit boek en het zet mij aan om dieper in te gaan op het werk van de Tovenaar Thomas Mann.
March 25, 2025
Jag kommer inte att kunna sluta tänka på denna självbiografi. Om att vara tysk. Om att inte längre vara det. Vad man - och ens forna hemland - får bli istället.
July 1, 2024
En fremragende biografi af Thomas Manns måske lidt glemte søn, Klaus Mann, med masser af reflektioner om den tid han levede i, et liv som søn af en litterær megastjerne, som skabshomoseksuel, og som hardcore anti-nazist, der sig nødsaget til at drage i eksil ved Hitlers magtovertagelse i Tyskland. Der er mange ligheder med Zweigs "Verden af i går", men den fremstår på en måde lidt mere ungdommelig, lidt friskere og mindre konservativ (Mann var væsentligt yngre end Zweig, da han skrev denne) men giver et absolut ligeså indsigtsfuldt tidsbillede som det østrigske forbillede.
January 11, 2020
Interesting autobiography which sounds better on paper than it is in reality.
Let's start with the life. Klaus Mann is the son of Thomas Mann (author of Death in Venice) and he lived through many of most interesting chapters of 20th Century history. He was a child during the First World War in Germany, he was at the centre of a circle of colourful Bohemian characters between the wars and the Manns were among the first writers to warn about Hitler. Fortunately, they were also the first to flee. Mann writes about life in exile and returning as a journalist soldier to interview old 'friends' after the fall of Germany (and hear their justifications and minimisations). It is quite a journey. He was also gay - and is therefore both an insider (knowing everybody) and an outsider. What's not to like? Unfortunately, quite a lot.
So what is the book like? Some of the problems are mine. I know next to nothing about German culture and history. So while Mann's readers in 1942 (when a version of the book originally came out) his readers would have known all about this conductor or that writer, I was completely in the dark - with Mann providing very little help explaining who someone is or taking any time to bring them to life. The name is supposed to do it all. Sometimes, they came in lists and nobody stayed long enough to make it worth looking them up on Wikipedia.
Mann can also disappear down philosophical rabbit holes - where he discusses, for example, the shortcomings of autobiography. These sections are not only rather shallow but feel like they have been translated directly from German into English. What might be fine in German sounds baroque and dull in English.
Thirdly, when he comes to really interesting moments - like a crush on a boy at boarding school - we get a few paragraphs and he moves us onto another place. There is not enough detail to bring to life the boarding school, the smells, tastes and sights - so we are kept at a distance. The same with a trip to Berlin at the height of inflation (and the decadent clubs which Mann visited) and a castle where a mad family are all practising different kinds of magic. We get a hint, a few paragraphs and off he goes to something less interesting
Worse still, there are times when I suspected that Mann had taken a previous piece of writing and plonked it into this book. So right in the middle of a portrait of Europe at the end of the twenties and the rise of the Nazis in the thirties, there is a redundant chapter called Olympus where he discusses who he rates as writers, musicians etc. Who cares?
Perhaps the greatest problem is that he is less than candid. He talks about a boy who just happened to wander into his hotel room. What is he? A thief trying doors? We don't find out. Mann enjoys his company - I bet - and they arrange to meet the next day (but the boy does not show up because he has committed suicide). Without knowing - or even hinting - that they are both gay, the whole story makes no sense. I understand it was hard to be honest at this time but Isherwood and Auden (who married Mann's sister to provide her with a nationality after Hitler revoked the Mann's) were both able to walk the line. In almost 400 pages, there is not even a hint that he had a major drug habit.
But having said all that, I admired Mann's courage and how to spoke up while everybody accommodated the lies, the bullying and thuggery of Hitler. The parallels with modern times is really compelling. It made me ask whether I am doing enough. It made the 'it's not that bad' or 'I won't be affected' statements of friends, family etc seem doubly chilling. So I was prepared to forgive the shortcomings - especially as there were sections that were completely gripping
In short, it is a great life but only an OK autobiography.
Let's start with the life. Klaus Mann is the son of Thomas Mann (author of Death in Venice) and he lived through many of most interesting chapters of 20th Century history. He was a child during the First World War in Germany, he was at the centre of a circle of colourful Bohemian characters between the wars and the Manns were among the first writers to warn about Hitler. Fortunately, they were also the first to flee. Mann writes about life in exile and returning as a journalist soldier to interview old 'friends' after the fall of Germany (and hear their justifications and minimisations). It is quite a journey. He was also gay - and is therefore both an insider (knowing everybody) and an outsider. What's not to like? Unfortunately, quite a lot.
So what is the book like? Some of the problems are mine. I know next to nothing about German culture and history. So while Mann's readers in 1942 (when a version of the book originally came out) his readers would have known all about this conductor or that writer, I was completely in the dark - with Mann providing very little help explaining who someone is or taking any time to bring them to life. The name is supposed to do it all. Sometimes, they came in lists and nobody stayed long enough to make it worth looking them up on Wikipedia.
Mann can also disappear down philosophical rabbit holes - where he discusses, for example, the shortcomings of autobiography. These sections are not only rather shallow but feel like they have been translated directly from German into English. What might be fine in German sounds baroque and dull in English.
Thirdly, when he comes to really interesting moments - like a crush on a boy at boarding school - we get a few paragraphs and he moves us onto another place. There is not enough detail to bring to life the boarding school, the smells, tastes and sights - so we are kept at a distance. The same with a trip to Berlin at the height of inflation (and the decadent clubs which Mann visited) and a castle where a mad family are all practising different kinds of magic. We get a hint, a few paragraphs and off he goes to something less interesting
Worse still, there are times when I suspected that Mann had taken a previous piece of writing and plonked it into this book. So right in the middle of a portrait of Europe at the end of the twenties and the rise of the Nazis in the thirties, there is a redundant chapter called Olympus where he discusses who he rates as writers, musicians etc. Who cares?
Perhaps the greatest problem is that he is less than candid. He talks about a boy who just happened to wander into his hotel room. What is he? A thief trying doors? We don't find out. Mann enjoys his company - I bet - and they arrange to meet the next day (but the boy does not show up because he has committed suicide). Without knowing - or even hinting - that they are both gay, the whole story makes no sense. I understand it was hard to be honest at this time but Isherwood and Auden (who married Mann's sister to provide her with a nationality after Hitler revoked the Mann's) were both able to walk the line. In almost 400 pages, there is not even a hint that he had a major drug habit.
But having said all that, I admired Mann's courage and how to spoke up while everybody accommodated the lies, the bullying and thuggery of Hitler. The parallels with modern times is really compelling. It made me ask whether I am doing enough. It made the 'it's not that bad' or 'I won't be affected' statements of friends, family etc seem doubly chilling. So I was prepared to forgive the shortcomings - especially as there were sections that were completely gripping
In short, it is a great life but only an OK autobiography.
November 19, 2021
I will get to a review of this soon, but let me rant.
On the back cover and on the inside flaps of this book the reader is confronted with quotes such as:
"A delightful portrait . . . of the Manns"
"The portrait of the Mann family is excellent . . . "
". . . in a stirring tempo worthy of Thomas Mann"
"There is also something of Thomas Mann in the book."
If any of these observations were what makes this book - or Klaus Mann as a writer - any good, maybe that might justify the fact that every time for decades I try to mention him when a professor, friend, ex-girlfriend mentions - usually - "Death in Venice" or "The Magic Mountain" or, if I'm lucky, "Doctor Faustus", and I go "but wait, what about the vastly superior 'Mephisto' by the younger Mann" only to be met with silence and in one memorable case, scorn?
Are you kidding me.
Thomas Mann - read what he said about his son Klaus and his addiction, it certainly gives one glimpse into the aspect of the depth of his character/empathy/intellect - could never have written "Mephisto".
Take "Doctor Faustus" where the psychologically deranged component is arguably the most compelling - it still stops at a certain level. Thomas is afraid to go beyond literary convention or allusion. This same setup handled by Klaus would've been far more unpredictable and true.
In "Mephisto" where Thomas would pause and maybe get cute with his skills, Klaus sees the line, crosses it, goes well beyond the amoral because it's reality. And in going in the directions and depths his father couldn't or wasn't willing to go, there's no kitsch or drop in the quality of the prose for the sake of cheap thrills - it remains riveting and valid. In comparison Thomas Mann's novels read like cowardly putting-a-foot-in-the-water explorations of his topics/characters/stories/themes/worlds. But that's "literary" and somehow "Mephisto" - a sublime work of madness, perhaps one of the greatest novels of the 20th century - is more remembered as a pretty-good movie from the 80's.
It's all unfortunate.
And with that rant only begun but more than enough for now, I will return to this book when I can.
On the back cover and on the inside flaps of this book the reader is confronted with quotes such as:
"A delightful portrait . . . of the Manns"
"The portrait of the Mann family is excellent . . . "
". . . in a stirring tempo worthy of Thomas Mann"
"There is also something of Thomas Mann in the book."
If any of these observations were what makes this book - or Klaus Mann as a writer - any good, maybe that might justify the fact that every time for decades I try to mention him when a professor, friend, ex-girlfriend mentions - usually - "Death in Venice" or "The Magic Mountain" or, if I'm lucky, "Doctor Faustus", and I go "but wait, what about the vastly superior 'Mephisto' by the younger Mann" only to be met with silence and in one memorable case, scorn?
Are you kidding me.
Thomas Mann - read what he said about his son Klaus and his addiction, it certainly gives one glimpse into the aspect of the depth of his character/empathy/intellect - could never have written "Mephisto".
Take "Doctor Faustus" where the psychologically deranged component is arguably the most compelling - it still stops at a certain level. Thomas is afraid to go beyond literary convention or allusion. This same setup handled by Klaus would've been far more unpredictable and true.
In "Mephisto" where Thomas would pause and maybe get cute with his skills, Klaus sees the line, crosses it, goes well beyond the amoral because it's reality. And in going in the directions and depths his father couldn't or wasn't willing to go, there's no kitsch or drop in the quality of the prose for the sake of cheap thrills - it remains riveting and valid. In comparison Thomas Mann's novels read like cowardly putting-a-foot-in-the-water explorations of his topics/characters/stories/themes/worlds. But that's "literary" and somehow "Mephisto" - a sublime work of madness, perhaps one of the greatest novels of the 20th century - is more remembered as a pretty-good movie from the 80's.
It's all unfortunate.
And with that rant only begun but more than enough for now, I will return to this book when I can.
February 24, 2019
Non sono un grande lettore di biografie o autobiografie e neppure amo le cosiddette “saghe familiari”, sono freddo verso la “letteratura di impegno civile” ma questa è la famiglia Mann, il periodo storico attraversa gli sconvolgimenti e le più grandi accelerazioni che la storia abbia mai conosciuto: Prima e Seconda guerra mondiale viste dalla Germania, e l’atmosfera di questo libro è adorabile e struggente per capacità narrativa e per l’universo di personaggi che compaiono nella vita del narratore: Andre Gide, Stefan Zweig, e il poeta surrealista René Crevel, grande amore di Klaus Mann, solo per citarne alcuni. Vitalità intellettuale incredibile, inarrestabile direi, e pulsione di morte, che culminerà nel suicidio del 1949. Suicidio che è presente in tutto il libro e in svariati personaggi della vita di Mann, sembra proprio che si tratti di un’impronta drammatica che la torsione verso il nazismo e la guerra ebbe su un certo ambiente intellettuale tedesco in esilio, lo stesso Stefan Zweig alla fine, nella sorpresa generale. Dopo aver letto Mephisto poche settimane fa, potrei arrivare a dire l’indicibile: quest’uomo, pur avendo meno “potenza”, aveva una capacità narrativa superiore all’ingombrante padre. Lo so è stupido dire: “superiore”, Klaus però non è per nulla il “figlio di”, è arte, a tal punto che questo è uno di quei libri che si finiscono con quella struggente e piacevole malinconia che solo certe opere possono dare.
October 16, 2016
Klaus Mann erzählt nicht nur aus seinem Leben, er zieht zugleich eine Bilanz der Zeit- und Kulturgeschichte des 20. Jahrhunderts. Ein bewegendes und spannendes Zeitdokument!
April 17, 2024
„Jeder Augenblick, den wir durchleben, verdankt dem vorangegangenen seinen Sinn. Gegenwart und Zukunft würden wesenlos, wenn die Spur des Vergangenen aus unserem Bewußtsein gelöscht wäre.“ (Zitat Seite 25)
Thema, Genre und Inhalt
Ein Lebensbericht, das Tagebuch eines intensiv gelebten Künstlerlebens ist in seiner Gesamtheit noch wesentlich mehr. Diese Autobiografie ist ein eindrückliches, differenzierendes und in seiner Vielseitigkeit umfassendes Bild der Zeit.
Ein kurzer Prolog schildert kurz die Familie Mann und ihr Umfeld bis zu jenem 18. November 1906, an dem Klaus Heinrich Thomas Mann geboren wurde. Ab hier schreibt Klaus Mann chronologisch, beginnend mit der Kindheit, daran anschließend die Zeit des ersten Weltkrieges und die Jahre danach. Wir erleben den Wunsch des jungen Klaus Mann, Schriftsteller zu werden, seine Liebe zur Literatur und zum Theater, seinen ersten Aufenthalt in Paris und die Atmosphäre dieser Stadt, die ihn sofort und für immer anzieht. Klaus Mann ist ein Suchender, der schon früh die gesellschaftspolitischen Entwicklungen, besonders in Deutschland, sehr kritisch und besorgt beobachtet. Diese Sichtweise teilt er mit seiner Schwester Erika und so ist klar, dass sein Lebensweg ins Exil führt. Die nachfolgenden Kapitel sind intensive Zeitdokumente der Situation der Emigranten, besonders der Künstler, die einander in den jeweiligen Städten weiterhin in Künstlerkreisen treffen. Klaus Mann führt der Weg während dieser ersten Jahre der Verbannung aus Deutschland nach Amsterdam, Paris, Nizza, Zürich, dazu kurze Reisen nach Wien und Moskau. Wie auch seine Schwester Erika hält er Vorträge gegen Krieg und Faschismus, zunächst in Europa, dann in Amerika. Das zwölfte und letzte Kapitel „Der Wendepunkt“ umfasst die Jahre 1943 bis 1945 und schildert die Ereignisse dieser Jahre ausschließlich in Briefen von und an Klaus Mann, der die letzten Kriegsjahre als Mitglied der amerikanischen Armee in Italien erlebt.
Neben den Ereignissen und persönlichen Erlebnissen schildert Klaus Mann seine eigenen Gedanken und Eindrücke, seine Hoffnungen, seine Zweifel. „Die Veränderungen, die nach dem Wendepunkt kommen, mögen zunächst nicht sehr drastisch sein, werden es aber im Lauf der Zeit, immer drastischer, von Monat zu Monat, von Jahr zu Jahr: im Guten oder im Bösen. Ich prophezeie, daß wir um 1965 eine Welt haben werden, die sehr viel schlechter sein wird als die heutige – oder entschieden besser.“ (Zitat Seite 695)
Fazit
Diese beeindruckende Autobiografie, auch sprachlich großartig, ist ein intensiver, zeitlos aktueller Blick auf die Geschichte und Menschen dieser Zeit und gleichzeitig ein interessantes Bild der Kunst- und Kulturszene.
Thema, Genre und Inhalt
Ein Lebensbericht, das Tagebuch eines intensiv gelebten Künstlerlebens ist in seiner Gesamtheit noch wesentlich mehr. Diese Autobiografie ist ein eindrückliches, differenzierendes und in seiner Vielseitigkeit umfassendes Bild der Zeit.
Ein kurzer Prolog schildert kurz die Familie Mann und ihr Umfeld bis zu jenem 18. November 1906, an dem Klaus Heinrich Thomas Mann geboren wurde. Ab hier schreibt Klaus Mann chronologisch, beginnend mit der Kindheit, daran anschließend die Zeit des ersten Weltkrieges und die Jahre danach. Wir erleben den Wunsch des jungen Klaus Mann, Schriftsteller zu werden, seine Liebe zur Literatur und zum Theater, seinen ersten Aufenthalt in Paris und die Atmosphäre dieser Stadt, die ihn sofort und für immer anzieht. Klaus Mann ist ein Suchender, der schon früh die gesellschaftspolitischen Entwicklungen, besonders in Deutschland, sehr kritisch und besorgt beobachtet. Diese Sichtweise teilt er mit seiner Schwester Erika und so ist klar, dass sein Lebensweg ins Exil führt. Die nachfolgenden Kapitel sind intensive Zeitdokumente der Situation der Emigranten, besonders der Künstler, die einander in den jeweiligen Städten weiterhin in Künstlerkreisen treffen. Klaus Mann führt der Weg während dieser ersten Jahre der Verbannung aus Deutschland nach Amsterdam, Paris, Nizza, Zürich, dazu kurze Reisen nach Wien und Moskau. Wie auch seine Schwester Erika hält er Vorträge gegen Krieg und Faschismus, zunächst in Europa, dann in Amerika. Das zwölfte und letzte Kapitel „Der Wendepunkt“ umfasst die Jahre 1943 bis 1945 und schildert die Ereignisse dieser Jahre ausschließlich in Briefen von und an Klaus Mann, der die letzten Kriegsjahre als Mitglied der amerikanischen Armee in Italien erlebt.
Neben den Ereignissen und persönlichen Erlebnissen schildert Klaus Mann seine eigenen Gedanken und Eindrücke, seine Hoffnungen, seine Zweifel. „Die Veränderungen, die nach dem Wendepunkt kommen, mögen zunächst nicht sehr drastisch sein, werden es aber im Lauf der Zeit, immer drastischer, von Monat zu Monat, von Jahr zu Jahr: im Guten oder im Bösen. Ich prophezeie, daß wir um 1965 eine Welt haben werden, die sehr viel schlechter sein wird als die heutige – oder entschieden besser.“ (Zitat Seite 695)
Fazit
Diese beeindruckende Autobiografie, auch sprachlich großartig, ist ein intensiver, zeitlos aktueller Blick auf die Geschichte und Menschen dieser Zeit und gleichzeitig ein interessantes Bild der Kunst- und Kulturszene.
July 7, 2025
Het moet niet makkelijk zijn om de schrijvende zoon te zijn van een beroemd auteur maar dit boek bewijst dat Klaus Mann niet ongetalenteerd was als verhalenverteller. Zeker had hij het bij het rechte eind over het fascisme, veel vroeger dan de meeste van zijn landgenoten. Zijn bezoek (en voortijdig vertrek) aan een massa-bijeenkomst met Hitler greep me naar de keel: hoe angstaanjagend treffend is de gelijkenis niet met de verkiezingsrally's van Trump die net als Hitler - drekjoden! - één bevolkingsroep, migranten, de schuld geeft van alles en pejoratieven gebruikt om tegenstanders te benoemen. Al even gelijkend op de tijd van vandaag is de manier waarop massa's 'deplorables' voor Hitler kiezen en de nazipers die de waarheid verdraait lang voor Fox dat in Amerika zou doen. Nog een passage die indruk maakte is wanneer hij na de oorlog als Amerikaans soldaat zijn vervallen ouderlijke huis bezoekt en er een vluchtelinge aantreft die hem meldt dat het huis werd gebruikt in het Lebensborn-voortplantingsprogramma. Het is één keer maar dat Mann de ellende van de oorlog tastbaar kan maken. Hij verschilt daarin toch wel sterk van Curzio Malaparte die net als Mann de opmars meemaakte van de Amerikanen in Italië en er in tegenstelling tot Mann hallucinante literatuur uit weet te puren. Aardig vond ik dan weer de picareske avonturen van Mann met zijn zuster Erika in Amerika waar ze vlot toegang kregen tot de rich en famous van die tijd, ook met artiesten die later pas beroemd zouden worden zoals Greta Garbo. Het boek was ten slotte een prettig weerzien met Auden die zich - dat wist ik niet meer - liet trouwen (Auden was homo) met Manns zuster zodat die in Amerika kon geraken.
March 4, 2025
I loved this. Partly because so much of Klaus Mann’s personality- his literary preferences, his personality queerness and his suicidality - resonated with me. Partly because of how astute he analyses the beginning of the third Reich and how Hitler and the Nazis rose to power. Partly because of the richness of his life (both literally and figuratively) and the way he can write.
In my opinion this is an excellent book, and I cannot wait to read more by and about him.
In my opinion this is an excellent book, and I cannot wait to read more by and about him.
June 1, 2020
Libro estremamente colto, ricco di spunti, che porta a digressioni infinite fuori dal libro. Avvincente l'avvicendarsi di faccende private e storico-pubbliche ma un po' schivo al principio. Non mi è stato infatti facile entrare con lui in confidenze ma nel mezzo del cammino ce l'ho fatta! Comunque e senza dubbio un bel leggere
September 1, 2022
Mann's schitterende getuigenis over de opkomst van het fascisme. Het ongeloof bij de Duitsers en, bij uitbreiding de hele wereld. De angst voor het bolsjewisme. De vlucht van de progressieve elite. Leven in exil. Ontmoetingen van de culturele elite. Vertwijfeling, angst en zelfmoord. Klaus Mann in dienst bij het Amerikaanse leger. Met een verhelderend nawoord van Frido Mann.
December 10, 2021
Ich mag das Kesse und Ehrliche in seinem Schreibstil und fand die Autobiografie im Allgemeinen sehr fesselnd und kann seiner Resignation in Bezug auf den Nationalsozialismus nur beipflichten. Wirklich ein bewegendes Stück Zeitgeschichte.
May 15, 2023
Zeer relevant zeer gedetailleerd, maar daardoor soms ook te vol verslag van het leven van Klaus Mann in zijn eigen woorden. Scherpe analyses waarbij hij ook zijn eigen handelen kritisch beschouwt. Een boek dat werkelijk inzicht biedt. Aanrader.
August 15, 2025
Sad and disturbing description of 1933-1942 developments in Germany, Europe and the U.S., due to the rise of Hitler and the War. Mann makes anti-suicide statements, yet committed suicide himself, at age 43, in 1949.
January 27, 2018
amazing! what a interesting life...
August 18, 2018
One if not the best book I have ever read.
September 30, 2019
Extraordinaire. L’autobiographie d’un des fils de Thomas Mann.
January 27, 2021
L’histoire des ‘’mythes de l’enfance’’, racontée par un auteur qui se situe dans l’ombre du père et sous le poids de l’Histoire. C’est une très belle fresque sur la perte des illusions, une parfaite introduction à la littérature allemande.
February 20, 2023
Fand es schon sehr spannend, aber musste dann leider wegen Schulstress abbrechen und habe bisher keinw Motivation mehr dazu gefunden. Aber der bisher gelesene Teil war empfehlendswert.
March 23, 2025
Es liest sich als würde Mann die Worte nicht nur beherrschen sonder persönlich kennen.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 40 reviews