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Like Correction, this one is twice as long as the average Bernhard book and therefore it does twice the damage as the average 150-page Bernhard book, damage mitigated by the introduction of self-conscious acknowledgment about the narrator's abominable pronouncements, also direct attack on Austria's Nazi past, also two sympathetic idealized characters to counterbalance all the imbeciles and insincere simulators. As always, there's nothing as good, no approach as viral, nothing as unbearable to read for more than 30-page stretches, and nothing seems as ordered and chaotic at once, organic and orchestrated at once. Interesting that I was thinking about the importance of extremism and exaggeration of approach and then toward the end there's a revealing stretch where the narrator talks about himself as a great artist of exaggeration. Not as "funny" as some of the others (Woodcutters or The Loser). Really great reading but as always glad to step out from under Bernhard's extinguishing shadow.