I was going to give this 5 stars, and I may change it, as I thoroughly enjoyed this, but I'm too picky with my 5 stars and this doesn't deserve to be one of a select few. I have seen people say this book isn't pedophilic, and that Aschenbach's fixation with Tadzio is purely platonic and envious, I disagree with that and can't interpret it that way myself, but if we do pretend it's less creepy than it is, or blame its creepiness on the translation I read, I think it's a very deep story. I get the obsession with youth, I may be close in age to Tadzio rather than Aschenbach, but I've watched so many people wither away that I've become hyperaware of my youth. Particularly since my mother, my sole guardian died. In her and my grandmother's last year, they lived vicariously through me. They saw my achievements as their own, which was an honour to me. My mother was young, and died from a cancer which I may carry the gene for. I'm aware I may die young, and I'm aware the two people who doted on me the most aren't here to protect me. I envy other teenagers, I go to a "special" school and had to spend a lot of my teenhood caring for my mother. I see boys like Tadzio and I am jealous of them, I'm not a very conventional male, I'm short and flamboyant, most people think I'm a woman, unless I wear a dress, then I'm a man. I'm not an androgynous beauty like Tadzio, despite the fact his teeth are described exactly like mine, I confuse people, and it's tiring. Whenever I see happy, normal teen boys I feel like I may as well be an old, dying man compared to them, I know I'll soon be an adult and will never have been a textbook teen like them, and that's an odd feeling. But I can't abide by thinking such thoughts whenever one sees a stranger for more than a second, Aschenbach is a Humbert Humbert type character, even though you may be able to see yourself in him in some ways, other ways he is incredibly unrelatable because he's a sick fuck. He isn't just jealous of Tadzio because his life is nearing its end, he objectifies him. He's not just a muse, he lusts for him. It's gross, the romantic, artistic analogies Aschenbach uses when he thinks of Tadzio don't make it seem like any more of a purely artistic interest in Tadzio's aesthetic, it's just Aschenbach sugarcoating his perverseness with poetry, and it makes it even fouler. It's as though he's grooming Tadzio in his mind, gaslighting himself into thinking he sees Tadzio as no more than inspiration, when his utter obsession shows otherwise. If he thought of Tadzio as merely art, he would've glanced at him once and fucked off, using that memory to create whatever he so pleased, but he didn't do that. He didn't make a statue like the Greek ones Tadzio resembles, he just stalked the poor boy to create what? Some sick fantasies when he went to bed that night? The ambiguity of whether we are supposed to feel for Aschenbach or not is this book's downfall, because I can't say its good if he's not meant to be a sick fucking cunt, but if he is, and if that was more explicitly stated somehow, even if Aschenbach tried to defend himself, then this would get the 5 star rating I'm dangling above it.