Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi by Geoff Dyer contains two distinct and stunning novellas about the life of Jeff Atman. Jeff, of course, seems to be a thin disguise for Geoff. I have no idea how autobiographical these stories are, but they read with a gripping authenticity.
The title is more than a play on Thomas Mann’s Death in Venice. These are stories of requited lust in Venice and of spiritual desolation and breakdown in Varanasi.
Jeff is a freelance writer of some competence. He earns enough to pay his rent and enjoy a reasonably active life in London. He appears to have no real ties or obligations and is close to no one. Life is changing for him, and he dyes his hair. He is searching for some meaning, or perhaps just trying to hang on to what he has.
One particular detail tells the reader a lot about Jeff: he received an advance to write a book. He never writes it, doesn’t return the money, and is pleased to find that once the editors change, the publisher no longer cares. He is sent on assignment to write about the Biennale, a contemporary art festival in Venice. The art appears to be as shallow as the piece Jeff will write. He knows a number of people at the show, and he socializes and drinks Bellinis with them at the innumerable parties and art receptions. The art gives no one a reason to care about it. There seems to be a dinner or event for Ed Ruscha every year, and the hustlers selling fake handbags on the street turn out to be an installation. It’s all just a reason to have a party. Venice is the magical, historic playground for this artificial and decadent event.
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Jeff is drawn to Laura, a tall, dark-haired beauty from Los Angeles. The connection is immediate, but she puts him off and won’t give him her number or tell him where she’s staying. She believes that if they’re meant to get together, they will run into each other. They do, and it turns into a drunken, drug-fueled, lustful satisfaction for them both.
Jeff does have real feelings for her. He hopes she wants to see him again, and he finally tells her so. She is fine with that, but you sense it’s never going to happen. Earlier, she had them each buy the other an expensive, beautiful piece of Venetian glass as a reminder. These fragile mementos are all their relationship will ever be.
After the Western decadence of Venice, the second half of the book moves to Varanasi. Jeff is sent there to write a travel article, which he completes almost as an afterthought. Dyer vividly captures Varanasi: the cremation of the dead on the banks of the Ganges, the ridiculous traffic, the children constantly hassling you for money, the dogs feeding on a corpse, the colors, the odors, the food.
In Venice, Jeff ends up alone, truly alone, and in India that doesn’t change. He doesn’t get the girl in Varanasi either. He has no desire to return to England, so he stays in Varanasi; he has nothing else. He goes native, dressing in local garb and bathing in the Ganges. When a girl he meets says she is worried about him and remarks that his hair is as fluffy as a gosling’s, he repeats several times that it’s “as fluffy as a gosling and smooth as an otter.” He has lost himself.
The two intense stories in Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi draw you into the human experience in two famous water cities. Dyer has written something special, something you will never forget, in the same way you never forget Death in Venice.
Find Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi by Geoff Dyer on Audiobooks, Amazon/Audible, and Bookstores who are not Amazon.
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