As fate would have it, last Sunday, The Joy of Reading fell open at the entry for Thomas Mann. Van Doren's recommendation was not Death in Venice, but rather The Magic Mountain.
I was impressed with the first pages' narrative of Hans Castorp's ascent to the International Sanatorium Berghof.
At the 100-page mark, I am pleased to report that the book is as pleasing as a fine piece of furniture. It has a beautiful high-altitude setting, populated by dotty, foreign inhabitants, and notable for intriguing details.
I once visited a friend who was staying at a Richmond hospital for mentally infirm. Then, I was struck by the unfortunate condition of those who seem healthy in every respect but are confined to quarters for months on the mere opinion of another human being. (This impression may have originated from a viewing of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.)
In the Berghof of The Magic Mountain, most of the patients seem perfectly healthy, save for an occasional cough. I wish they would be set free.
I was impressed with the first pages' narrative of Hans Castorp's ascent to the International Sanatorium Berghof.
At the 100-page mark, I am pleased to report that the book is as pleasing as a fine piece of furniture. It has a beautiful high-altitude setting, populated by dotty, foreign inhabitants, and notable for intriguing details.
I once visited a friend who was staying at a Richmond hospital for mentally infirm. Then, I was struck by the unfortunate condition of those who seem healthy in every respect but are confined to quarters for months on the mere opinion of another human being. (This impression may have originated from a viewing of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.)
In the Berghof of The Magic Mountain, most of the patients seem perfectly healthy, save for an occasional cough. I wish they would be set free.
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