Structure
The most accurate way to view the structure of Mann’s “Death in Venice” is as a journey story: It is a journey away from home that has no return. The structure of the novella mirrors Aschenbach’s Eastward journey from the Apollonian to the Dionysian. Aschenbach begins his journey wound tightly; like the clenched fist he commonly makes whilst writing. The novella ends as his journey ends: relaxed and free in death.
The novella begins with Aschenbach leaving his home in Germany to go on a walk, “in hopes that the fresh air and activity would restore him and help him have a profitable evening” (Mann 1). His journey begins near the Hall of Last Rites, where he sees a red-haired stranger instills him with the insatiable desire to travel. The urge strikes him and Aschenbach is transfixed; he stands, “his hands clasped behind him and his eyes fixed on the ground, in order to examine the nature and purpose of this sensation” (3). His clasped hands signify his extreme self-discipline that Aschenbach has practiced since his youth. Like Aschenbach, the text is also reserved and controlled in the opening. The structure of the first two chapters is the opposite of flowery prose. It is straightforward description, with an almost complete lack of investment and emotion. This changes of course in chapters four and five as Aschenbach changes under Tadzio’s influence.
Aschenbach’s eastward journey takes him to Venice, where his, and the novella’s structure changes. It is in this deteriorating city that Aschenbach meets Tadzio, the beautiful youth who becomes the object of Aschenbach’s affection (and many would say, obsession). It is interesting that the reader never Aschenbach at his home in Germany, because he seems to find his home in Venice, where Tadzio can be found. Once Aschenbach sees Tadzio, he never wants to leave Venice. More than that, he never wants to have the boy out of his sight. Aschenbach’s structured lifestyle begins to dissipate the longer he is away from his home in Germany. The text opens up as Aschenbach does, with the ending of chapter four showcasing a much wilder, passionate structure than earlier chapters. Aschenbach portrays a Dionysian attitude when he is “beside himself” and inhales “the nighttime fragrance of the plants”. Aschenbach leans back, his arms dangling, and absurdly and sacredly admits that he loves Tadzio. This image of Aschenbach is very different from those earlier in the novella. And with his emotional change, Mann’s prose changes; it becomes more robust and vibrant and instead of boring description, the reader is greeted with sentences full of life and passion. The structure and Aschenbach have moved from the reserved Apollonian and the Western, to the sensual and spontaneous Dionysian/Eastern. The structure shift of the text reaches its height in the fifth chapter. Aschenbach has a wild, orgiastic, lascivious dream that is a complete departure from the structure of the novella up to this point. The text, and Aschenbach, has become unbuttoned and unhinged. It is no longer restricted and reserved and tightly clenched. The structure spirals free of all Apollonian restraints and Aschenbach’s dream is a perfect testimony to that fact. After having this dream, Aschenbach no longer cares what anyone in the hotel thinks or says about him. He has given himself over to the Dionysian completely; he realizes that his journey ends wherever Tadzio is located. The entire novella, he ached at the thought of being separated from Tadzio. Tadzio is Aschenbach’s true home. His journey concludes not at home, in Germany, but in Venice, with Tadzio in his sight.
The movement of the text is paralleled by the evolution of Aschenbach from a standing figure to a sitting figure. Aschenbach begins the text on his feet, walking through Germany. He continues his journey story on his feet: standing on the boat, walking through the streets of Venice, standing on the beach watching Tadzio with his playmates. There is a significant structural change in regards to this near the end of the novella. In this portion, there are many instances of Aschenbach sitting down. He spends much time sitting down in the hotel barber’s chair as he receives treatments to make him look younger. He is unable to follow Tadzio and his family through the streets of Venice anymore; exhausted by “passion” (which is really cholera) Aschenbach needs to sit down in the middle of the square. Finally, and most importantly, he dies sitting down, his arms extended and his hands open, in a chair at the beach.
Aschenbach’s journey ends, not with him back where he started, but within Tadzio’s aesthetic glow. For him, the journey home ends where he can bask in Tadzio’s overwhelming presence, and give in completely to his Dionysian desires. Aschenbach and the structure of the text go on parallel journeys throughout the novella, and the culmination for both is freedom and fulfillment in death: the true end of the journey home for both of them.
--Amy Wert







