It’s probably the long and circuitous sentences and paragraphs, turning in on themselves, constantly referring to the same idea(s) and reestablishing their own importance, becoming, in that way, familiar to all who have read Bernhard or others in that camp (not too hard to find some Hamsun here as well), which, I’m coming to learn, is something that I can’t seem to get enough of, though what that says about me, being so entertained from reading works with narrators who constantly obsess and revise their thoughts, is probably worth consideration (much in the way that this high-school teacher obsesses over both a minor character in Ibsen’s The Wild Duck and his own disappointment that no one cares how he’s noticed something potentially important about this character), e.g., “The very thought of the contrary situation sufficed to make one quickly understand how impossible it would have been if it had not been the way it, as a matter of fact, was.” (15)

These are stories about people teetering on the edge, whether that be the edge of some terrible action, of some buried desire, of some great joy, or of some perverted pleasure. It gives an off-kilter atmosphere to the stories wherein mostly pedestrian things happen. It’s a window into dark thoughts that usually pass quickly, here slowed down and expanded. The writing feels wildly free and also purposefully restrained.

I think you should read this book. If you’re not into fiction, much less literary fiction, this makes a good case for it and gives you the tools to enjoy and appreciate reading more of it. And if you are into that stuff (like me), there’s still so much here.