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.
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