Doctor Faustus: The Life of the German Composer Adrian Leverkuhn As Told by a Friend

According to H. T. Lowe-Porter, the first English language translator of what she called "this cathedral of a book," there are "Grievous difficulties [which] do indeed confront anyone essaying the role of copyist to this vast canvas[...] this woven tapestry of symbolism." One of the problems of translation here is that some of Mann's characters speak Early New High German, which Lowe-Porter renders with many Medieval English words, and which the average reader (myself included) may find a little daunting, to say the least. I gave up on her translation at about page 50, at which point Jonathan Leverkuhn, the novel's hero's father, is conducting experiments with crystals, which provides one of the actually few links to Goethe's great poem FAUST. John E. Woods's vigorous translation allowed me to read the entire book in a fairly short time with only a couple of slow-downs at knotty places involving social satire. This book is indeed a "vast canvas," and a magnificent one, containing much that is dazzlingly virtuosic, such as the long passage in Chapter 25 (really the entire chapter) in which the hero is confronted by a Mephistophelian figure. But, I get ahead of myself, as frequently does the lovable, avuncular narrator of this novel, whose name translates roughly as Serene Historian, or something of that sort: Serenus Zeitblom. He is clearly a persona of Herr Mann himself, whom I wish I'd been able to meet to tell him in my Holden Caulfield way how much I like his books. Herr Professor Zeitblom is a philoligist, a scholar of languages, and, by extension, of culture; he is a very astute observer of Western European culture and civilization during the period from the late Nineteenth Century to the middle of the last century, a very important period in the life of his beloved Germany. He's a champion of reason and open-minded humanism, and is a very affable and interesting companion in your journey of 534 deeply packed pages. You thought Dostoevski's deep.... Oh, by the way, the devil dialogue in Chapter 25 is quite reminiscent of Dostoevski's devilish monk in the "Grand Inquisitor" chapter in his BROTHERS KARAMAZOV, and the fact that our narraror here is a philologist is a clear reference to philosopher Friedrich Nietzche,whose interest in both theology and music is mirrored in Mann's composer/hero; and Nietzche's behavior in a brothel is also exactly mirrored by the hero in Mann's novel, Adrian Leverkuhn, who is lured to the bordello by a devil-figure, one among many in this book. Another such persona of Old Scratch is a certain Professor Eberhard Schleppfuss ("Drag-foot") who teaches theology at the University of Halle. Mann has great fun with many of the names of his characters, and, in fact, in this "novel of ideas," many of the characters are more representations of philosophical points than fully fleshed out people. But, our kindly uncle Zeitblom manages to hold everything together and move all along to the tragic end. There are also a great many musical references and meanings, as we would expect in a novel in which the hero is a composer (or, "tone-setter," or "arranger of sound" in the original German subtitle.) For example, the fact that the composer Leverkuhn has to give up love due to his pact with the Devil, which is supposed to give him great genius (power), is certainly a reference to the character of the dwarf Alberich in Wagner's music drama DAS RHEINGOLD. And, of course, with the Wagner reference we have a hint of Hitler and his Nazi Party, the precursors of which, Dietrich Eckart and the Thule Society, is referred to in Chapter 34's continuation in thinly veiled ways. The fictious musical work of our composer-hero called THE LAMENTATION OF DOKTOR FAUSTUS seems to be a reflection of an actual work by the real composer Ernst Krenek called LAMENTATIO JEREMIAE PROPHETAE, which is available on several recordings, and Leverkuhn's visit to the Italian town of Palestrina (scene of the devil dialogue in Chpt. 25) is probably a reference to an opera of Hans Pfitzner called PALESTRINA which is about the great Renaissance composer of that name. Finally, what is this massive book about? I haven't told you half of the complicated, ingenious inter-relationships of ideas and themes contained. I'll hazard a remark, though. This "cathedral of a book" is about nothing less than the questions of the origins of human culture and society and the relationship of the individual (genius) to the whole, and the meaning and value of all that. It is an impassioned call to at least attempt to save as much of this culture as possible and to pass it on to the world of the future, whatever that may be. And over it all, I see a continued faith in human culture and in "humanism" and an open-minded approach to life, which is itself, and will remain, a mystery. Finally, I'd like to recommend a few books and other sources which you may find useful. The first is THE CAMBRIDGE COMPANION TO THOMAS MANN, edited by Ritchie Robertson, published by Cambridge UP, 2002. Next is UNDERSTANDING THOMAS MANN by Hannelore Mundt, published by the University of South Carolina Press. Also useful is the MODERN CRITICAL VIEWS collection of essays called THOMAS MANN, edited by Harold Bloom, published by Chelsea House in 1986. Finally, you may like THE READER'S COMPANION TO WORLD LITERATURE, edited by Lillian H. Hornstein, et al., published by Mentor. In addition, you should watch Leonard Bernstein's Harvard lecture series called THE UNANSWERED QUESTION, available on DVD. He discusses the topic of the crisis of tonality in music in the Twentieth Century, which is one of the important topics of Mann's novel, and Bernstein focuses on the work of Schoenberg and Theodor Adorno, two major influences on Mann's writing about music in this book.

Nothing controversial; I agree with at least one thing in all reviews, and there is not one without something I disagree about. *1)This is a translation of the nine lines of terza rima (in Italian) from Dante's Inferno with which Mann introduces Doctor Faustus (they are left untranslated). They are from the beginning of Canto 2, as Dante is about to begin his journey into hell with his guide Virgil:The day was now departing; the dark airreleased the living beings of the earthfrom work and weariness; and I myself alone prepared to undergo the battleboth of the journeying and of the pity,which memory, mistaking not, shall show. O Muses, o high genius, help me now;o memory that set down what I saw,here shall your excellence reveal itself! --translated by Allen Mandelbaum in The Inferno, 1980(Mann as a rule loved his own language, and, until he got to the United States, where German translations might be hard to come by, or non-existant, continually ordered books translated into German from not only the Russian (which he probably didn't know) and other languages, but the English, Spanish, the Italian and the French as well (the latter two languages I cannot imagine him not being proficient in). *2)hetaera: an ancient Greek word for courtesan. Usually a foreigner, and thus unable to marry a Greek, and sometimes a slave. Expected to provide companionship as well as sex, she might well be better educated than many of the wives of her owners, and might be able to buy her own freedom--but at a very high price. I expected to see the word compared to the old fashioned Geisha (before prostitution was officially outlawed in Japan in 1954), but instead found it compared to the old Japanese word for very high class prostitute (Orian)."Esmeraldus"--seen by me in a (GROAN) unknown book, narrated (supposedly) by an uneducated man, and used to refer--in the plural (not the word, the number of women)--to ordinary prostitutes. I don't know when it was written, but I was confident that it had not filtered down from Mann. (comments, contradictions and enlargements welcome!) Hetaera Esmeralda: Small butterfly, with transparent wings, found in some regions of South America ("Brazilian"--but from a much less reliable source than that listed below), it flutters through dense undergrowth in preference to open spaces on its transparent wings. (Museum of Natural History, London, Zygmunt Frankel, visitor, reporting, 1997). The word is now Latin, with the addition of "Esmeralda." *3)The Kretzschmar lectures:They are: "Why didn't Beethoven write a third movement for his last piano sonata, Opus 111?" "Beethoven and the Fugue," "Monster of all Quartets" (a continuation), "Music and the Eye," (with an extension on the piano)" "The Elemental in Music."These extraordinary lectures contain some of the most gorgeous prose and the meatiest musical ideas of the entire novel (and it doesn't matter whether you read them in the original German, or either of the two English translations). Zeitblom (Zeitbloom?) says that he included all of them because of the profound effect they had on the book's protagonist. Time and again, Mann says, in his diaries and The Story of a Novel: The Genesis of Doctor Faustus, working on the middle of the book, the end of the book--anywhere!--he goes back to the Kretzschmar lectures, modifying, polishing. The reader finally begins to wonder--why doesn't he finish with them (already)? Read them, and you will see!"fare-thee-well""O--thou sky of blue""All was--but a dream" *For the conversation with the devil, you really need H.T. Lowe-Porter's original translation. Woods does not reproduce the kinds, layers, and depths of the German used as well as she does (although, for the most part, Woods' translation is the better one). Admittedly, this scene is a translators nightmare, as well as joy, and Mann himself (in the novel) says (his narrator, Zeitblom, says) that he might be able to get his "biography" published in America, but feared that some of the more "German" parts would be impossibe to translate). *Nietzsche contracted syphilis at 21 (some say 22, but most think 21). He was treated by two doctors. 24 years later, he collapsed into a coma-like state. When he regained consciousness, he was declared insane. He died 11 years later.It hardly seems like a coincidence.

Before it seemed like nothing more could be said on the Nazi era, Thomas Mann’s 1947 Doctor Faustus shone a contemporary and unique perspective on how Germany could be led into such monstrosity.The story revolves around a fictional composer of classical music, Adrian, with the intellect of Schoenberg and the personality of Nietzsche. He sells his soul for the ability to write works which will literally transform the world.Mann sees this act as allegorically portraying the travails of Germany between humanism and a Fascist worldview. While humanism celebrates the individual, his freedoms, the brotherhood of humanity and a benign universe National Socialism embraces the power of the collective, racial ideology and nihilism. This theme is epitomized by Adrian stating in some of his penultimate words that Beethoven’s Ninth, that exaltation of joy and the brotherhood of man, is a lie and a delusion.Adrian’s own music is obsessed with the themes of the end of the world; however, in this case it symbolizes the ending of the cultural patrimony of Germany by the thugs of Naziism; a thuggery which Mann notes that humanism could not find the inner strength to combat.Mann wrote Dr. Faust out of the concern that his earlier works were too esoteric to contribute towards society. This activist stance is noble, but the amount of text devoted to discussions of the intricacy of music theory will still make it difficult reading for most.An ingenious allegory, a compelling story, a distinctive account of Naziism from the pen of one of the greatest German writers of the twentieth century. It really needs nothing further to recommend it.

The media could not be loaded. Amei veio exatamente como eu esperava, bem embalado e em perfeito estado.

I don't find Thomas Mann's books, such as Doctor Faustus at all easy to read. They are both long and highly complex, written not as a novel as such but to transmit a message, in this case, the similarities between the Faustus legend and the rise of Nazi Germany. However, I have been fortunate to read both this book and another major work of Mann, The Magic Mountain, in new translations by John E Woods which bring a clear and smooth passage through these undoubtedly great works of literature.Dr Faustus is on the face of it, a fictional biography of Adrian Leverkuhn, a brilliant composer who came to fame in the 1920s and 30s. The biography is recorded by his life-long friend Dr Serenus Leitblom, who happens to have possession of Leverkuhn's journals including a secret manuscript, which comes to light about half way through the book, which gives an account of the terrible evening when Leverkuhn entered into a pact with the devil, to exchange his soul for 24 years of brilliant musical composition.Dr Leitblom has a hard time of it with Adrian Leverkuhn, the friendship never achieving an easy intimacy, and several times there are references to Leverkuhn's refusal to use the personal pronoun with even his closest associates. He is unapproachable and isolated, and takes private rooms in a farmhouse, some distance from Munich. His almost hermit-like existence is relieved by train journeys into the city where he takes part in musical and philosophical soirees, described in some detail by Mann and showing his command of the most complex musical ideas.Leverkuhn's music is rarely well-received, being appreciated by only a select band of critics, the message being that it is too rarified for the common concert-goer, but will eventually be vindicated by generations to come. The implication is that only listeners similarly in league with the devil would be able to appreciate its complex abstractions.Dr Leitblom writes his biography during the dark days of 1944 when Germany's collapse was seen as inevitable, and the tragic destiny of Leverkuhn is contrasted with occasional short accounts of the unfolding disasters caused by allied bombing of the great cities of Germany and the breaches of its borders by invading armies. This gives the whole book an atmosphere of burning cities and the inevitable doom which awaits Leverkuhn all who sup at the devil's table, the final chapter being a revelatory denouement which shows the dark forces which have worked through Leverkuhn's music throughout his life.By the time Mann wrote this book he was living in America and broadcasting radio messages into Germany criticizing the Nazi regime. Dr Faustus is in some ways Mann's ultimate critique of Nazism, something he had been fighting since its first appearance in the 1920s. Dr Faustus is not an easy read, far from it, but it is an important element of world literature and great piece of art in its own right which can only enrich the reader who perseveres with it.

I came to this book after reading the fascinating The Rest is Noise: Listening to the Twentieth Century, which describes the intellectual trajectory of music from classical(romantic) to modern.Doctor Faustus starts rather oddly, with a lot of self-referential comment and doubt. I found this off-putting, but was very glad that I persevered. As other reviews have described the content, I will just say that I enjoyed reading this book very much. It is a serious literary examination of art in the form of european music, and a very rewarding read.

I really enjoyed reading this book slowly from cover to cover. It can be enjoyed on many levels which makes it accessible for readers of many different backgrounds. I enjoyed it first as a very convincing fictional biography of an early-twentieth century German composer. I later discovered the book's potential to be read as an allegory for Germany's shift to Nazism.I think the beauty of the writing lies in the way in which Thomas Mann chooses to convey deep psychological truth not through long impenetrable sentences filled with complex vocabulary but with telling descriptions of the nuances in his characters' appearance and physical mannerisms. I find this more 'everyday' language far more enjoyable to read and, for the most part, more effective in conveying meaning.I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to learn more about German history, German music or anyone who simply wants to be told a good story in sophisticated but not stifling language.

I wrote my BA dissertation on Doctor Faustus and I love Thomas Mann’s work. I’m looking forward to reading the new translation. I am disappointed that the book arrived damaged. I dare say it’ll get a bit battered by me over time, but I would have liked it to have been pristine when I received it.