After a bunch of SF, I decided to relax with some doorstopper fantasy. What a disappointment when it turned out that (SPOILER) this so-called "Magic" Mountain didn't have any magic in it!
Dumb jokes aside, this is a great novel. It's also very clearly a modernist fiction of autonomy, so people who purport to know about those maybe should have had something to say about it thirteen years ago. But I just don't have the German, or the sense of the German literary field, to do it right. Offhand, however, it's clear that the Sanatorium Berghof is a way of exploring relative autonomy from historical time. So clear that it's almost parodic, just as the opposition is comically exaggerated between the plodding hyper-steoretypically Hamburg "flatland" life Castorp is escaping and the intellectualized, cosmopolitan, and transgressively erotic (not only heterosexually) realm of the sanatorium. And so too is the lesson about the limits of this autonomy all too clear, not only in the explosive ending but well before. On the last page the garrulous narrator literally tells us the story is "hermetic," "told for its own sake."
Otherwise, I was particularly moved by the tour-de-force snow chapter, and the evocation of listening obsessively to a recording of Schubert. I wonder if Fischer-Dieskau deliberately followed Mann's description of the record Castorp loves so much.
(comment on The Magic Mountain)