Yossi Ghinsberg, Lost in the Jungle ****

A young Israeli backpacker meets three fellow travelers in Bolivia and they set out on a rainforest adventure. Do they seem ill-prepared for the challenges? Yes. Does the quartet get along as the going gets tougher? No. Does everything come out okay? The title indicates that it does not.

Ghinsberg writes clearly and straightforwardly about their exploits and motivations. In the early chapters I thought his style might be a bit too unadorned and wished for a more literary account, especially as the relationships begin to fray. (I found the intragroup dynamics at least as interesting as the outdoor adventure.) But as the problems and difficult decisions piled up, Ghinsberg's uncomplicated style turned out to be exactly right. I would have appreciated maps, photos, or illustrations though.

Paul Fussell, Class **

As a palate cleanser following The Magic Mountain, I picked up this short "guide through the American status system" written "with eagle-eyed irreverence and iconoclastic wit."

I am interested in the subject of social class for two reasons. First, I'm curious about how one's social class influences one's worldview and tastes (cf. Let's Talk About Love). Second, I see how today's political climate weaponizes class distinctions (cf. What's the Matter with Kansas?).

Unfortunately, Class has no insights about these or any other topics. It is merely a compendium of social class signifiers circa 1983, from accent to choice of musical instrument. Some of Fussell's general observations remain valid, but nearly all of the specific ones are painfully outdated. More importantly, though, he doesn't even attempt to address the role of social class (and judgements about social class) in American society. In the final chapter, Fussell offers the ludicrous idea that you can escape the class hierarchy by becoming a bohemian hipster.

A personal confession: I personally feel secure in my social position, which makes me upper-middle class by Fussell's definition. However, I do suffer from a form of class status anxiety: I'm in a different class than most of my peers, not in terms of wealth but culturally. I attend the Monterey Jazz Festival rather than Scorpions concerts; I go sailing rather than motorcycle riding; I favor art films over Marvel movies; I read things like The Magic Mountain. My theoretically higher status tastes don't make me feel superior, they make me feel out of place. I wish Class had had something to say about my predicament instead of just mocking people who wear baseball caps.

Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain **** 1/2

 I scaled this monument of international literature.

The Magic Mountain takes place in the years before World War I at a sanatorium in the Swiss Alps. It has an intimidating reputation due to its length (706 pages in English translation), Mann's byzantine writing style, and dated cultural touchstones. I understood it to be an allegory for pre-war Europe, which doesn't interest me, but also a "dizzyingly rich novel of ideas," which does interest me.

I enjoyed The Magic Mountain despite the frequent irruption of long, dense philosophical exposition from various characters. I loved the descriptions of the natural environment and especially of the daily routine at the sanatorium with its second breakfast and special system for wrapping blankets during the rest cure. Mann's prose, at least in John E. Woods' translation, is lightly satirical if a bit formal.

I would not go so far as to say that The Magic Mountain is an easy read. Mann never misses an opportunity to throw in everything he knows about, say, developmental biology, bringing the already sluggish narrative to a stop. The scientific and philosophical treatises were often too subtle or abstract for me, but they were usually followed by a section that integrated the ideas into the action. For example, the chapter "Operationes Spirituales" covers the Jesuit worldview in tiresome detail; the next chapter "Snow" recounts an adventurous ski trip during which our hero considers the question of spirit versus flesh.

The book has interesting things to say about our variable experience of time, divergent attitudes about illness, and Apollonian versus Dionysian ways of life. I understood it to be an allegory about finding the proper balance between contemplation and action, sensual and spiritual experience, individual and social development. If there's a lot about early 20th-century Europe, it went over my head.