Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi: A Novel (Hardcover)

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Book Description
A wildly original novel (what else would we expect from this fearless and funny writer?) that explores the underbelly of erotic fulfillment and spiritual yearning.

Every two years the international art world descends on Venice for the opening of the Biennale. Among them is Jeff Atman—a jaded, dissolutely resolute journalist—whose dedication to the cause of Bellini-fuelled party-going is only intermittently disturbed by the obligation to file a story. When he meets Laura, he is rejuvenated, ecstatic. Their romance blossoms quickly but is it destined to disappear just as rapidly?

Every day thousands of pilgrims head to the banks of the Ganges at Varanasi, the holiest Hindu city in India. Among their number is a narrator who may or may not be the Atman previously seen in Venice. Intending to visit only for a few days he ends up staying for months, and finds—or should that be loses?—a hitherto unexamined idea of himself, the self. In a romance he can only observe, he sees a reflection of the kind of pleasures that, willingly or not, he has renounced. In the process, two ancient and watery cities become versions of each other. Could two stories, in two different cities, actually be one and the same story?

Nothing Geoff Dyer has written before is as wonderfully unbridled, as dead-on in evocation of place, longing, and the possibility of neurotic enlightenment, as irrepressibly entertaining as Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi.
About the Author
Geoff Dyer is the author of three previous novels and five nonfiction books, including But Beautiful, which was awarded the Somerset Maugham Prize, and Out of Sheer Rage, which was a National Book Critics Circle Award finalist. The winner of a Lannan Literary Award, the International Center of Photography's 2006 Infinity Award for writing on photography (for The Ongoing Moment), and the American Academy of Arts and Letters' E. M. Forster Award, Dyer lives in London.

Questions for Geoff Dyer

Q: What is this book about?

A: At the risk of being cowardly, I'll take refuge behind a line from one of Kerouac’s letters: "It's my contention that a man who can sweat fantastically for the flesh is also capable of sweating fantastically for the spirit." (See also answer to question 4.)

Q: Is it a modern twist on Death in Venice? If not, what's up with the title?

A: Yes, the first part is a version of the Mann novella--the opening sentence is ripped straight out of the opening line of the original--but mine operates at a far lower cultural level. His protagonist is a world-famous composer, mine is a hack journalist. And whereas in the Mann, Aschenbach's obsession with the young boy, Tadzio, is tied up with some quest for ideal beauty, in my book the romance with Laura is very carnal and hedonistic--though that could itself be said to represent some kind of ideal.

Q: Why Venice and Varanasi?

A: They're actually very similar: both are water-based, old, with crumbling palaces facing onto either the Grand Canal or the Ganges with alleys and narrow streets leading off into darkness and sudden oases of brilliant light. And both, in their ways, are pilgrimage sites. I'm not the first person to be struck by the similarities. There are quite a few occasions in his Indian Journals when Ginsberg is so stoned walking by the Ganges that he thinks he's in Venice, strolling along the Grand Canal!

Q: Are the two parts of the book, two stories in two different cities, or are they the same story? How are they linked? One early reviewer claimed that the protagonist in each story wasn't the same person, but two people--is it the same person or not?

A: Well, these are huge questions and this, in fact, is what the book is about. By asking questions like these the reader is hopefully confronted by several more, about what kind of unity the book has, about the ways in which a novel might be capable of generating an aesthetic unity of experience that is not narrative-driven. Regarding the person in each part, I'll opt for what governments call the N.C.N.D. response, neither confirming nor denying. It is never made clear whether the un-named narrator in Varanasi is the same as the protagonist in Venice. And although sequentially it comes afterwards, there is nothing in the book to suggest that part 2 comes chronologically after part 1. I actually wanted to subtitle the book "A Diptych" but was dissuaded by my handlers. I didn't mind: it so obviously is a diptych there's no need to call it one!

Q: You've clearly spent a lot of time in Venice and Varanasi. Have any of Jeff's adventures happened to you?

A: Yes, I've been to three biennales and spent a big chunk of time in Varanasi. As I've said elsewhere, I like writing stuff that's only an inch from life but all the art--and, for me, all the fun--is in that inch.

From Publishers Weekly

Starred Review. Two 40-ish men seeking love and existential meaning are the protagonists of these highly imaginative twin novellas, written in sensuous, lyrical prose brimming with colorful detail. In the first, Jeff Atman is a burnt-out, self-loathing London hack journalist who travels to scorching, Bellini-soaked Venice to cover the 2003 Biennale, and there finds the woman of his dreams and an incandescent love affair. The unnamed narrator of the second novella (who may be the same Jeff) is an undistinguished London journalist on assignment in the scorching Indian holy city of Varanasi, where the burning ghats, the filth and squalid poverty and the sheer crush of bodies move him to abandon worldly ambition and desire. Dyer's ingenious linking of these contrasting narratives is indicative of his intelligence and stylistic grace, and his ability to evoke atmosphere with impressive clarity is magical. Both novellas ask trenchant philosophical questions, include moments of irresistible humor and offer arresting observations about art and human nature. For all his wit and cleverness, Dyer is unflinching in conveying the empty lives of his contemporaries, and in doing so he's written a work of exceptional resonance. (Apr.)
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Product Details

• Hardcover: 304 pages
• Publisher: Pantheon (April 7, 2009)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0307377377
• ISBN-13: 978-0307377371
• Product Dimensions: 9.4 x 6.4 x 1.3 inches
• Shipping Weight: 1.2 pounds (View shipping rates and policies)
• Average Customer Review: 3.7 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (51 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #14,371 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

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21 of 24 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Original and Erotic, April 2, 2009

By	Amos Lassen (Little Rock, Arkansas) - See all my reviews (TOP 500 REVIEWER)

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Dyer, Geoff. "Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi: A Novel:", Pantheon, 2009.

Original and Erotic

Amos Lassen

The Biannale in Venice comes every two years and the art world goes to Venice for its opening. Jeff Atman, a journalist, loves the Biannale but this time he has to write a story and this could weigh upon his party going. Then he meets Laura and he becomes wildly happy and their romance moves quickly. However as quickly as it happens is it destined to disappear.
The novel then moves to Varanasi, India on the Ganges River, a spot that fills with pilgrims daily, Varanasi is the holiest of cities to the Hindu religion. A stranger suddenly appears at the site and we are not sure if this is Jeff Altman or not, This man had only planned to come there for a few days but he ends up staying for months. What he finds there is himself in the guise of an previously unexamined idea of who he is. He also sees pleasure in the form of what he has already given up.
What is the relationship between Venice and Varanasi? Both are ancient and both depend on water. Is it possible that the two stories we have here actually be one story and could they be the same story?
This is a novel that is totally original and is an exploration of eroticism and spiritual desire which seems to take ideas from Thomas Mann's "Death in Venice" but written on a different level. Instead of Mann's classical composer, Dyer gives us a hack journalist who is jaded. As Mann's Aschenbach was obsessed with the youth, Tadzio, here Laura is the object of obsession--a carnal and hedonistic obsession.
On the cities of Venice and Varanasi, the question lays with the reader. Nothing is clearly spelled out and the timeline is nor necessarily set as to which happens first.
As the search for love and existential meaning is the theme, how do we know what is really going on? Dyer is quite the thinker here and his style is graceful and sublime. He gives us a look at empty lives which should resonate loudly with all of us.

23 of 27 people found the following review helpful:

3.0 out of 5 stars Double Trouble, April 9, 2009

By	Ken C. (MA) - See all my reviews (TOP 1000 REVIEWER)

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The unwieldy title of this book is indicative of its troubles. JEFF IN VENICE, DEATH IN VARANASI offers two novellas, two continents, and two somewhat listless narratives in search of some grounding. The first novella, written in the 3rd person limited, chronicles the tale of a self-absorbed, hedonist Brit in the Italian city as a freelance writer covering an art festival (the Biennale). Though in his 40's, our protagonist (Jeff Atman) dyes his hair and acts in general like an untethered frat boy as he chases down party invites, quaffs as many free drinks as possible, and hunts up skirts. The writing itself is crisp (thus 3 stars), but you'll be offering your kingdom for a plot after awhile, unless you're perfectly content to read vast stretches of self-satisfied witticisms in the form of cocktail chat. Certain readers may pass on the cocktails and go straight for the tail in the form of some rather randy scenes where Jeff scores repeatedly with the fair -- and oh, so game -- Laura (it must be all that art putting them in the mood for something graphic).

Reaching the end of the first piece and shrugging, we move on to India with a nameless 1st-person protagonist as our new host. This novella, less "modern" in feel, comes off like a travel book, rich in details about the squalid Indian city, the filthy Ganges, and the constant funeral pyres -- metaphoric, perhaps, for a tandem of books that don't quite mesh and don't quite grab the reader by the lapels?

Fans of parties, booze, and sex (Round One) and fans of Hindu rituals, travel writing, and kangaroos (if you get that far in Round Two, you'll see) may be confused as to why these odd bedfellows share a dust jacket, but the writing isn't bad and Dyer's a gamer -- too bad he just can't get it off the ground.

6 of 6 people found the following review helpful:

3.0 out of 5 stars For The Fan Of More Adventurous Fiction, May 31, 2009

By	Alan Dorfman "JukeboxJunkie812" (DELRAY BEACH, FL United States) - See all my reviews (REAL NAME)

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It would be a lot easier to hate Geoff Dyer's fourth novel "Jeff In Venice, Death In Varanasi" if it weren't so beautifully written.

For one thing, it is not really a novel but two roughly related novellas. Both take place in cities that begin with the letter "V," cities whose past, present and future are inextricably interwoven with the waterways that run through their hearts, both physically and psychically. The main character of both is nominally the same writer, portrayed in the third person in "Jeff In Venice" and in the first person in "Death In Varanasi." Other than some minor professional and, to a lesser degree, personal details in common, you would believe these were completely different people. A gratuitous reference to Varanasi in "Jeff In Venice" when looked at in concert with the tenuous connection of the novellas makes me wonder if this wasn't a completely artificial shotgun wedding of two of Mr. Dyer's unfinished works in order to meet some arbitrary publication schedule.

One of the oft repeated rubrics in the discussion group I belong to is that one of the primary reasons to read fiction is to be transported to places that, otherwise, you would not see/know. Though I have visited Venice frequently on the written page, both fictional, historical and current, returning to it within the context of the Biennale and Mr. Dyer's biting commentary on celebrity and the modern "art world" made my return trip worthwhile. Varanasi was not in my personal atlas and, as such, was a fascinating journey to a landscape and mindset to which I had never previously travelled.

Another part of "Jeff In Venice" I found enjoyable was Jeff's improbable flirtation and fling with Laura, though the sex seemed desultory, bloodless and brief. Nevertheless, this unconventional romance provided some narrative propulsion that made we want to keep reading.

However, this narrative propulsion is completely missing from "Death In Varanasi." A different sort of first person craftsmanship is used, not completely successfully, in its stead. At one point, describing the photographs in an art gallery, Mr. Dyer writes...

"but there were no individual captions, nothing to tell you where
anywhere was, or what anything was, or when it had been. There were
just these pictures of places that were in these photographs. There
was nothing to help you get your bearings and then, after a while,
once you accepted the idea, you realized that you didn't need these
things that you so often relied on, that there were no bearings to
get. A given picture had no explicit or narrative connection with
the one next to it, but their adjacency implied an order that
enhanced the effect of both."

And this is exactly what Mr. Dyer attempts to achieve through the use of free floating words, phrases, episodes and thoughts. A lot goes on but very little happens. Nothing remotely resembling a plot arises, probably intentionally. This may be the author's commentary as to how life in the third world (as exemplified by Varanasi) is by necessity so thoroughly in the moment that past, present and future all co-exist in that moment and all that will be, i.e. a plotline, has already been and will always be and, therefore, needs no reiteration.

Along these lines the author also invents a kangaroo god that he names Ganoona who "is all that which is not anything else. But it's also that which is everything else." By extrapolation, the plot is everything that is not the plot but it is also everything else as well. Are you still with me?

So, if you're looking for a typical, standard narrative, you won't find it here. If you are more adventurous in your fictional reading pursuits "Jeff In Venice, Death In Varanasi" is worth a couple of days of your free time. In closing, another quote from Mr Dyer. I have replaced the word "watched" with the word "read"...

The longer I "read", the more difficult it became to detect any
order, pattern or loyalties. It was a little bit of mayhem that,
while constantly threatening to get completely out of control
never quite did. Everyone involved was having a good time."