What do you think?
Rate this book
Die Arbeit der Nacht
Jonas ist allein. Zuerst ist es nur eine kleine Irritation, als die Zeitung nicht vor der Tür liegt und Fernseher und Radio nur Rauschen von sich geben. Dann jedoch wird Jonas klar, dass seine Stadt, Wien, menschenleer ist. Ist er der einzige Überlebende einer Katastrophe? Sind die Menschen geflüchtet? Wenn ja, wovor? Jonas beginnt zu suchen. Er durchstreift die Stadt, die Läden, die Wohnungen und bricht schließlich mit einem Truck auf, um nach Spuren der Menschen suchen. Mit wachsender Spannung erzählt Thomas Glavinic davon, was Menschsein heißt, wenn es keine Menschen mehr gibt.
400 pages, Hardcover
First published August 5, 2006
52 people are currently reading
1136 people want to read
About the author
Thomas Glavinic
15 books142 followersThe former writer of advertising copy and taxi driver emerged with his 1998 debut novel Carl Haffner's Love of the Draw. The novel describes the life of chess master Carl Schlechter. The book received several awards and has been translated into other languages, but did not make it onto the bestseller lists. The novel has autobiographical aspects: Thomas Glavinic played his first chess game at the age of five and in 1987 he achieved second place in the Austrian chess rankings for his age group.
The novel Herr Susi (Mr. Susi) followed in 2000. Written in hard prose, it is a statement against the football business, and received mainly negative reviews from the critics. In 2001, the criminal novel Der Kameramörder (The Camera Murderer) (awarded the Friedrich-Glauser-Prize at the Criminale) was published and was enthusiastically celebrated by the feuilletons due to its criticism of the media. In 2004, Glavinic succeeded in convincing both critics (no. 1 on the ORF critics best list) and readers (no. 1 on the Austrian bestseller list) with his satiric development-novel Wie man leben soll (How to Live), written from the perspective of the indefinite "one". In August 2006, the novel Die Arbeit der Nacht (The Work of the Night) was released and scored no. 1 on the critic's list again in the same month. His novel, Das bin doch ich (That's Me), appeared in summer of 2007 and was nominated for the German Book Prize. It made it onto the short list, a selection of six of the twenty authors originally chosen.
Thomas Glavinic is married and lives with his wife and son in Vienna.
The novel Herr Susi (Mr. Susi) followed in 2000. Written in hard prose, it is a statement against the football business, and received mainly negative reviews from the critics. In 2001, the criminal novel Der Kameramörder (The Camera Murderer) (awarded the Friedrich-Glauser-Prize at the Criminale) was published and was enthusiastically celebrated by the feuilletons due to its criticism of the media. In 2004, Glavinic succeeded in convincing both critics (no. 1 on the ORF critics best list) and readers (no. 1 on the Austrian bestseller list) with his satiric development-novel Wie man leben soll (How to Live), written from the perspective of the indefinite "one". In August 2006, the novel Die Arbeit der Nacht (The Work of the Night) was released and scored no. 1 on the critic's list again in the same month. His novel, Das bin doch ich (That's Me), appeared in summer of 2007 and was nominated for the German Book Prize. It made it onto the short list, a selection of six of the twenty authors originally chosen.
Thomas Glavinic is married and lives with his wife and son in Vienna.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 166 reviews
August 6, 2017
This is not a post-apocalyptic book. There are no zombies and no conspiracy about the end of the world. Probably. Well. We don’t really know what happened. One day, main (and only) character Jonas wakes up to discover that everyone else is gone. He is all alone. There are no other people around, and nothing indicating what might have happened. Animals are gone too. Insects. Birds. It’s like everybody just disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Ceased to exist from one second to the next.
Except Jonas himself.
Night Work is not about figuring out what happened. It’s about what happens to a person’s psyche when he’s alone the whole time. Everywhere is empty and silent. There’s nothing to do. Nothing to give meaning to Jonas’ life. He can break into any house or store and take what he wants. For the time being, electricity is still up and running, so although fresh food gets spoiled as the days and weeks goes by, frozen meals will keep Jonas alive for a good while. He doesn’t have to worry about his basic needs, except the need for social interaction.
Usually it’s society’s norms and conventions that teaches us impulse control. Other people’s reactions and advice keeps us grounded and in touch with reality. When you are all alone, those barriers are gone. How to you preserve your own common sense, and your sanity, without any input from the rest of humanity? Jonas tries to correct himself when his imagination gets carried away. But after a while, paranoia, madness and hallucinations starts to surface.
Jonas repeatedly thinks about the fact that no one will ever again touch this or that object, unless he himself comes back to the same place and picks it up again. It will just lie there until it rots away or disintegrates, maybe hundreds of years from now. These thoughts convey the desperation and loneliness Jonas is feeling.
Then things in Jonas’ apartment seems to move while he’s asleep. He sets up cameras to figure out if anybody is there at night. The cameras reveal that
After a while, setting up cameras and watching the tapes takes up a lot of Jonas’, time. He does this both to keep an eye on himself at night, and to ensure that things and places still exist even when he is not there to see them for himself. His mind is so starved for social interaction, that he imagines sounds in the next room and moving figures in the corner of his eye. There is a lot – and I mean a lot – of fear of the dark in this book. He imagines all sorts of scary, warped creatures lurking around, like in this paragraph, where he is afraid of closing his eyes while showering:
He was being silly. A rustling sound. That was all. And the wolf-bear creature existed only in his imagination. He could take a shower with his eyes shut, no trouble. No one was threatening him.
The door was locked.
The windows were closed.
No one was hiding in the wardrobe or lurking under the bed.
No one was clinging to the ceiling.
He went back into the cubicle and turned on the tap, held his head under the shower. Shut his eyes.
He guffawed. "Hey! Ha, ha! There! You see? I told you! Halleluja!
The atmosphere of this book really got to me. I thought about it when I wasn’t reading it, and I was sucked right back into the narrative as soon as I picked it back up. It might sound like a monotonous read, but there's actually quite a lot of things going on, and to me this was a page-turner.
It was also an uncomfortable read, but a book can be good and uncomfortable – it is a feat to write something that makes the reader feel this kind of unease. But I must admit that in my case, the feeling was probably strengthened by the fact that I read it while I was working three night shifts, alone, in a very old building. (I have plenty of time to read on my night shifts, and yes, I know how lucky I am.) This book did make me jump at sounds now and then, and I felt like turning around to see if there was somebody standing behind me. At one point, I had to put it down and turn on the TV. This was an eerie and dark reading experience. Without there being any proven supernatural element present, it still made me scared of ghosts, evil nuns and wolf-bears. A solid five stars.
Except Jonas himself.
Night Work is not about figuring out what happened. It’s about what happens to a person’s psyche when he’s alone the whole time. Everywhere is empty and silent. There’s nothing to do. Nothing to give meaning to Jonas’ life. He can break into any house or store and take what he wants. For the time being, electricity is still up and running, so although fresh food gets spoiled as the days and weeks goes by, frozen meals will keep Jonas alive for a good while. He doesn’t have to worry about his basic needs, except the need for social interaction.
Usually it’s society’s norms and conventions that teaches us impulse control. Other people’s reactions and advice keeps us grounded and in touch with reality. When you are all alone, those barriers are gone. How to you preserve your own common sense, and your sanity, without any input from the rest of humanity? Jonas tries to correct himself when his imagination gets carried away. But after a while, paranoia, madness and hallucinations starts to surface.
Jonas repeatedly thinks about the fact that no one will ever again touch this or that object, unless he himself comes back to the same place and picks it up again. It will just lie there until it rots away or disintegrates, maybe hundreds of years from now. These thoughts convey the desperation and loneliness Jonas is feeling.
Then things in Jonas’ apartment seems to move while he’s asleep. He sets up cameras to figure out if anybody is there at night. The cameras reveal that
After a while, setting up cameras and watching the tapes takes up a lot of Jonas’, time. He does this both to keep an eye on himself at night, and to ensure that things and places still exist even when he is not there to see them for himself. His mind is so starved for social interaction, that he imagines sounds in the next room and moving figures in the corner of his eye. There is a lot – and I mean a lot – of fear of the dark in this book. He imagines all sorts of scary, warped creatures lurking around, like in this paragraph, where he is afraid of closing his eyes while showering:
He was being silly. A rustling sound. That was all. And the wolf-bear creature existed only in his imagination. He could take a shower with his eyes shut, no trouble. No one was threatening him.
The door was locked.
The windows were closed.
No one was hiding in the wardrobe or lurking under the bed.
No one was clinging to the ceiling.
He went back into the cubicle and turned on the tap, held his head under the shower. Shut his eyes.
He guffawed. "Hey! Ha, ha! There! You see? I told you! Halleluja!
The atmosphere of this book really got to me. I thought about it when I wasn’t reading it, and I was sucked right back into the narrative as soon as I picked it back up. It might sound like a monotonous read, but there's actually quite a lot of things going on, and to me this was a page-turner.
It was also an uncomfortable read, but a book can be good and uncomfortable – it is a feat to write something that makes the reader feel this kind of unease. But I must admit that in my case, the feeling was probably strengthened by the fact that I read it while I was working three night shifts, alone, in a very old building. (I have plenty of time to read on my night shifts, and yes, I know how lucky I am.) This book did make me jump at sounds now and then, and I felt like turning around to see if there was somebody standing behind me. At one point, I had to put it down and turn on the TV. This was an eerie and dark reading experience. Without there being any proven supernatural element present, it still made me scared of ghosts, evil nuns and wolf-bears. A solid five stars.
February 28, 2009
I found this book to be enormously frustrating - all setup and no payoff. Jonas, a comfortable and successful Viennese yuppie who has a girlfriend and his own flat with a view of the Danube, wakes up alone. Alone, on the Earth. He quickly discovers that, as far as he can tell, he is the only animal of any kind left alive. Everyone else - humans, pets, wild animals, even insects - has cleanly and inexplicably disappeared. Plants remain, and one can presume that microscopic organisms such as bacteria are still around, since Jonas has no trouble digesting food, but he finds no evidence of any creature big enough to see being left alive, anywhere. All of humanity's creations are left behind - the power's still on, and the phones still work (although, without reason, the Internet's domain name services have failed). But... nobody's there to pick up the phone when you call. Anywhere.
Understandably, Jonas goes a little berzerk, left alone in a world whose many toys are all now his for the taking.
Aaaaand... that's it. For hundreds of pages. Well-written pages, mind you; even in translation, Glavinic describes his hapless protagonist's situation lyrically and well. And there is some conflict - Jonas is apparently something of a sleepwalker, and his externalized "Sleeper" provides a rather intriguing antagonist. But (and I suppose this should be considered a spoiler) Jonas never really finds out anything concrete about any of the mysteries with which he is confronted - neither concerning what happened to everyone else, nor about why he alone was left behind, nor about the Sleeper. Some events happen, and Jonas does some things - some of them pretty bizarre. But Glavinic never gives us any resolutions,
This is in contrast to other works of sf, such as Craig Harrison's The Quiet Earth or Richard Matheson's I Am Legend, which start from more or less the same common premise - the "Last Man on Earth" - but then provide an explanation, however surreal or unlikely, for the event. And yes, Night Work is most certainly sf - not science fiction, of course, but speculative fiction, since its primary conceit is one that asks "what if?" Glavinic just never bothers to answer the questions he raised.
Maybe that's the point. Maybe that's how it would really happen, to any of us, if we woke up alone on the planet; we'd putter around for awhile but never do or discover anything meaningful.
Maybe that's how it happens anyway - the rest of us may be surrounded by people but we're no more likely than Jonas to find satisfactory answers to any of our questions. Maybe that's the point.
But I expect more from fiction than from reality, and in this case (yes, ambiguity intended) I just didn't get it.
Understandably, Jonas goes a little berzerk, left alone in a world whose many toys are all now his for the taking.
Aaaaand... that's it. For hundreds of pages. Well-written pages, mind you; even in translation, Glavinic describes his hapless protagonist's situation lyrically and well. And there is some conflict - Jonas is apparently something of a sleepwalker, and his externalized "Sleeper" provides a rather intriguing antagonist. But (and I suppose this should be considered a spoiler) Jonas never really finds out anything concrete about any of the mysteries with which he is confronted - neither concerning what happened to everyone else, nor about why he alone was left behind, nor about the Sleeper. Some events happen, and Jonas does some things - some of them pretty bizarre. But Glavinic never gives us any resolutions,
This is in contrast to other works of sf, such as Craig Harrison's The Quiet Earth or Richard Matheson's I Am Legend, which start from more or less the same common premise - the "Last Man on Earth" - but then provide an explanation, however surreal or unlikely, for the event. And yes, Night Work is most certainly sf - not science fiction, of course, but speculative fiction, since its primary conceit is one that asks "what if?" Glavinic just never bothers to answer the questions he raised.
Maybe that's the point. Maybe that's how it would really happen, to any of us, if we woke up alone on the planet; we'd putter around for awhile but never do or discover anything meaningful.
Maybe that's how it happens anyway - the rest of us may be surrounded by people but we're no more likely than Jonas to find satisfactory answers to any of our questions. Maybe that's the point.
But I expect more from fiction than from reality, and in this case (yes, ambiguity intended) I just didn't get it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 6, 2017
So in the end this was not an an end of the world book. At least not literally. I realized that at 3am as I lay awake thinking about it. It was about the end of something. I lay there thinking, it was not that Jonas was REALLY alone. It was how he felt on the inside. This was all in his head. The book tricked me. I was a little angry last night. I felt a little betrayed by Jonas and The Sleeper. I wanted Jonas to do all those things. They were powerful. It hit me like a ton of bricks when Jonas went to his fathers flat and laid in the bed and was able to smell his father and find comfort in that. I enjoyed how the book played on the sense of smell and memory.
I could not read this book alone. I tried and was spooked by the cats and notifications from my phone. Like jump 5 feet off the bed kind of stuff. I felt like Jonas, that there was something just out of sight. This feeling follows you from the beginning to the end. The Sleeper is one of the most terrifying characters I have ever met. Last night at 3am I found myself thinking about The Sleeper and Jonas. Asking myself all kind of deep introspective questions. I won't bore you with them. Read the book and you too can lay awake and come up with your own deep introspective questions.
Again at 3 am I was asking myself was this a 4 star read or a 5. I admit the end pissed me off. But then there I was at 3am, thinking about it, mulling it over, having a deep inner dialogue with myself. So I decided to give it 5 stars, but the ending still pisses me off.
I could not read this book alone. I tried and was spooked by the cats and notifications from my phone. Like jump 5 feet off the bed kind of stuff. I felt like Jonas, that there was something just out of sight. This feeling follows you from the beginning to the end. The Sleeper is one of the most terrifying characters I have ever met. Last night at 3am I found myself thinking about The Sleeper and Jonas. Asking myself all kind of deep introspective questions. I won't bore you with them. Read the book and you too can lay awake and come up with your own deep introspective questions.
Again at 3 am I was asking myself was this a 4 star read or a 5. I admit the end pissed me off. But then there I was at 3am, thinking about it, mulling it over, having a deep inner dialogue with myself. So I decided to give it 5 stars, but the ending still pisses me off.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 24, 2011
I had a hard time picking out a star rating for this book. Three felt too generous and two felt too stingy. As much as I liked certain aspects of it, it was let down by what I saw as several serious problems. The premise is attractive: a man named Jonas wakes up to find himself apparently the last living soul on Earth, microorganisms and plants excluded. Glavinic takes a very interesting approach here, following Jonas's path through his hometown of Vienna in his attempts to find other people and/or discover what happened to everyone. Other reviewers here have referenced the obvious comparisons, I Am Legend and The Quiet Earth, and I agree that those are more successful books. The problem is that Glavinic starts out with such a huge premise... and then sort of makes it the backdrop for an exploration of the self fracturing in circumstances of extreme, traumatic isolation. That's how I interpreted it, anyway. But this would have worked better had there not been so many hints that other forces might be at work, that some immense payoff was imminent.
The sheer length of the book works against the premise, as well. Around page 200, I got annoyed and started skimming. Around page 300, things finally seemed to be happening again, and I re-entered the story, both relieved and disappointed to realize I hadn't missed much. If the whole book was meant to be about one man coming undone in an inexplicably emptied-out world, Glavinic does the reader no favors by subjecting him or her to nearly 400 pages of it. A final concern is that several obvious factual questions aren't addressed: If all the people are gone, how does the power stay on? If insects, birds, and mammals disappear, how does environmental collapse not follow in fairly short order? Did these things need to be dealt with? Perhaps; perhaps not.
In its favor, the writing itself (with the caveat that this is a translation) is excellent. Settings are exquisitely rendered; Vienna itself is almost a secondary character here. Glavinic writes with a clear sense of who his protagonist Jonas is. Tension builds. A creeping sense of dread hangs over the book: you get the sense something awful is going on. (The only problem is that this great build-up then goes around in circles.) There's a lot here that is thought-provoking and worthy and good, but in the end, it doesn't all come together.
Writing all this, I've finally realized which book this reminded me of the most: Murakami's Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. There are thematic similarities: an exploration of the self, cities as symbolic constructs, mysteries hanging just beyond the protagonist's grasp. Murakami did this much, much better (as if anyone who knows me didn't see that comment coming), delivering the payoff but still ending on a note that is at once wrenching, mind-blowing, and yet intimate. Night Work didn't need to be a American-style thriller to work, but it's too long for the psychological insight and intimacy it's trying for, about 25% of it being skimmable.
The verdict: Long literary foreplay but no shag at the end; instead of putting out, your partner drags you out of bed to eat popcorn and watch a documentary.
The sheer length of the book works against the premise, as well. Around page 200, I got annoyed and started skimming. Around page 300, things finally seemed to be happening again, and I re-entered the story, both relieved and disappointed to realize I hadn't missed much. If the whole book was meant to be about one man coming undone in an inexplicably emptied-out world, Glavinic does the reader no favors by subjecting him or her to nearly 400 pages of it. A final concern is that several obvious factual questions aren't addressed: If all the people are gone, how does the power stay on? If insects, birds, and mammals disappear, how does environmental collapse not follow in fairly short order? Did these things need to be dealt with? Perhaps; perhaps not.
In its favor, the writing itself (with the caveat that this is a translation) is excellent. Settings are exquisitely rendered; Vienna itself is almost a secondary character here. Glavinic writes with a clear sense of who his protagonist Jonas is. Tension builds. A creeping sense of dread hangs over the book: you get the sense something awful is going on. (The only problem is that this great build-up then goes around in circles.) There's a lot here that is thought-provoking and worthy and good, but in the end, it doesn't all come together.
Writing all this, I've finally realized which book this reminded me of the most: Murakami's Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. There are thematic similarities: an exploration of the self, cities as symbolic constructs, mysteries hanging just beyond the protagonist's grasp. Murakami did this much, much better (as if anyone who knows me didn't see that comment coming), delivering the payoff but still ending on a note that is at once wrenching, mind-blowing, and yet intimate. Night Work didn't need to be a American-style thriller to work, but it's too long for the psychological insight and intimacy it's trying for, about 25% of it being skimmable.
The verdict: Long literary foreplay but no shag at the end; instead of putting out, your partner drags you out of bed to eat popcorn and watch a documentary.
August 27, 2022
(Reading a second time.)
Well-done literary fiction that gives a taste of a sci-fi thriller and has the potential of a horror tale, but keeps on its own course. It doesn't have a pat Hollywood ending, and things aren't explained. Stay away from long descriptions of this book, and just enjoy--without skipping to the end.
***
Even better than remembered.
Well-done literary fiction that gives a taste of a sci-fi thriller and has the potential of a horror tale, but keeps on its own course. It doesn't have a pat Hollywood ending, and things aren't explained. Stay away from long descriptions of this book, and just enjoy--without skipping to the end.
***
Even better than remembered.
May 28, 2010
I hated this book. It was kind of like "LOST"--it ended with far too many questions that were unanswered...mainly one big one that I don't want to ask here because it would ruin the plot, or what there was of one. It felt like the author was finding an excuse to explicate some philosophical ramblings. It was a lot of "minor detail minor detail minor detail DEEP PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHT minor detail minor detail". As a reader, I absolutely hated this book. As a writing, I liked the author's ability to drag a reader kicking and screaming into the plot.
November 25, 2014
Lo que me llamó la atención al adquirir este libro fue su argumento: el que un buen día el protagonista se da cuenta de que es el único ser vivo sobre la tierra. No hay más personas. No hay animales de ningún tipo. Las comunicaciones se han cortado. Jonas, el protagonista, está solo. No hay nadie más. Jonas no sabe qué ha ocurrido, si la gente ha muerto o está viva, y si está viva dónde se encuentra, cómo ha desaparecido. De esta manera, asistimos al periplo de Jonas en su infructuosa búsqueda de más personas. Jonas recorre las calles de Viena, se introduce en las viviendas de familiares y conocidos, en su desesperado intento por encontrar a alguien más. Jonas llega a convertirse en una especie de Robinson Crusoe moderno, cuya isla es el mundo entero. Creyendo que alguien le acecha, Jonas empieza a colocar cámaras en diversos puntos de la ciudad, y termina incluso por grabarse a sí mismo mientras duerme, en su afán de atrapar esa presencia. Poco a poco, asistimos a la caída en el abismo de la castigada mente de Jonas.
’Algo más oscuro que la noche’, del austriaco Thomas Glavinic, es una reflexión, un retrato de la desintegración de la mente humana enfrentada a sus miedos más atávicos. ¿Es posible vivir siendo el único ser humano sobre la faz de la tierra? ¿Cómo aceptar y sobrellevar tal situación? Esta novela no narra una historia postapocalíptica de sorpresas y acción, como pueda ser ‘Soy leyenda’, de Richard Matheson. Excepto algunos flashbacks en los que el protagonista recuerda algunos momentos de su pasado vividos junto a su novia y amigos, esta novela es el viaje interior de Jonas en su manera de actuar y pensar.
El primer tercio de la novela es prometedora y engancha. Pero los otros dos tercios son excesivamente monótonos, son una repetición de situaciones donde Jonas lo único que hace es explorar calles y viviendas, y la verdad es que aburre. Thomas Glavinic da a su novela un tono sobrio y contenido, escribe bien. Pero la historia no se sostiene y se cae por su propio peso. Excesivas páginas para una novela interesante, pero nada más.
’Algo más oscuro que la noche’, del austriaco Thomas Glavinic, es una reflexión, un retrato de la desintegración de la mente humana enfrentada a sus miedos más atávicos. ¿Es posible vivir siendo el único ser humano sobre la faz de la tierra? ¿Cómo aceptar y sobrellevar tal situación? Esta novela no narra una historia postapocalíptica de sorpresas y acción, como pueda ser ‘Soy leyenda’, de Richard Matheson. Excepto algunos flashbacks en los que el protagonista recuerda algunos momentos de su pasado vividos junto a su novia y amigos, esta novela es el viaje interior de Jonas en su manera de actuar y pensar.
El primer tercio de la novela es prometedora y engancha. Pero los otros dos tercios son excesivamente monótonos, son una repetición de situaciones donde Jonas lo único que hace es explorar calles y viviendas, y la verdad es que aburre. Thomas Glavinic da a su novela un tono sobrio y contenido, escribe bien. Pero la historia no se sostiene y se cae por su propio peso. Excesivas páginas para una novela interesante, pero nada más.
August 6, 2015
Remember that time your parents took you to the fair and you saw that shiny mechanical ride across the way and just sort of wandered towards it and when you looked back your parents were gone and you were suddenly lost in this huge, unknown world? This book is a little like that. Remember when it took them like 20 minutes to find you and the creepy bearded guy offered to buy you a treat and you stepped in some pig shit and they had to call for your parents over the loudspeaker? This book is not really like that at all.
Jonas, the one and only living character in this book, wakes up one day to find he's the only one alive on the planet. He spends the next 374 pgs coming to terms with that as he holds out hope his girlfriend Marie is still alive. His grip on reality loosens slowly and paranoia and fear cause him to start video taping things, especially himself. He begins to develop a sleeping self that acts on its own and terrorizes his awake self. He looks for fleshly comfort among the various rotted and abandoned produce stands in the city. Joking about that last part--just seeing if you were still reading.
An interesting premise and Glavinic delivers a real sense of foreboding (felt like I was looking over my own shoulder as I was reading... Did I hear that? Is something moving behind me?), but the pace and whole felt a little disappointing overall. I had trouble getting past little things like how electricity and GPS and running water seemed to remain functional when I should have been paying attention to the story.
Jonas, the one and only living character in this book, wakes up one day to find he's the only one alive on the planet. He spends the next 374 pgs coming to terms with that as he holds out hope his girlfriend Marie is still alive. His grip on reality loosens slowly and paranoia and fear cause him to start video taping things, especially himself. He begins to develop a sleeping self that acts on its own and terrorizes his awake self. He looks for fleshly comfort among the various rotted and abandoned produce stands in the city. Joking about that last part--just seeing if you were still reading.
An interesting premise and Glavinic delivers a real sense of foreboding (felt like I was looking over my own shoulder as I was reading... Did I hear that? Is something moving behind me?), but the pace and whole felt a little disappointing overall. I had trouble getting past little things like how electricity and GPS and running water seemed to remain functional when I should have been paying attention to the story.
May 7, 2025
"Das größere Wunder" von Glavinic ist eins meiner absoluten Lieblingsbücher!
Kann es kaum glauben, dass dieses Buch hier von dem selben Autor sein soll?!
Oh, das war eine Quälerei.
Ein einzelner Mensch. Na, was soll der schon erleben.
Und wenn er dann noch ganz besessen ist, sich selbst im Schlaf zu filmen, dann passiert da gleich mal noch weniger Interessantes.
Da hätte ich mich am Ende dann auch vom Turm gestürzt.
Ab und an waren kluge Gedanken dabei, die besten am Ende, beim finalen "Flug".
Kann es kaum glauben, dass dieses Buch hier von dem selben Autor sein soll?!
Oh, das war eine Quälerei.
Ein einzelner Mensch. Na, was soll der schon erleben.
Und wenn er dann noch ganz besessen ist, sich selbst im Schlaf zu filmen, dann passiert da gleich mal noch weniger Interessantes.
Da hätte ich mich am Ende dann auch vom Turm gestürzt.
Ab und an waren kluge Gedanken dabei, die besten am Ende, beim finalen "Flug".
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 7, 2010
This took a bit of an effort to complete. The apparent apocalyptic (or post-rapture?) setting, I think is just a front for some thoughts on identity/sanity, especially with respect to the One in relation to the Other. That is, if a man goes crazy in the forest and no one hears, does he go crazy? Or in this case, substitute forest with oddly abandoned city.
The other strand in this book may be the role that technology functions between one and the other. Thus our agonizing protagonist is preoccupied with cellphones/answering machines early and then video recorders. Are these sliced ciphers of existence enough to represent a man? This sounds deeper than it plays, and it may be that fascinating setting is too much of a distraction, begging for action and a contemplation of where everybody *else* went, as opposed to the whys of one person's existence.
Mad Max ends up deserted and waiting for Godot?
The other issue I had was with Jonas' choices on what to do. Again, trying to guess at what the writer intended, it seems maybe this is a study of a descent into madness, rather than waking up in an empty world and honestly reckoning with what the hell has happened. So why Jonas smashes up things inside his parents' flat, or drives a car through a showroom plate glass window left me thinking what an idiot, rather than placing Jonas on a psychiatrist's couch and analyzing issues with his parents, and a potential death-wish in order to feel alive.
There were a few paragraphs later in the book that seemed to delve more directly into the cerebral approach, but this after a harrowing journey to see if he can find his lost girlfriend. Again that smacks of blockbuster action moves, rather than a novel of the mind.
Living in two worlds, this book winds up as alone as its main character. And like him, the most interesting bits for the reader may occur when s/he sleeps between the "action."
The other strand in this book may be the role that technology functions between one and the other. Thus our agonizing protagonist is preoccupied with cellphones/answering machines early and then video recorders. Are these sliced ciphers of existence enough to represent a man? This sounds deeper than it plays, and it may be that fascinating setting is too much of a distraction, begging for action and a contemplation of where everybody *else* went, as opposed to the whys of one person's existence.
Mad Max ends up deserted and waiting for Godot?
The other issue I had was with Jonas' choices on what to do. Again, trying to guess at what the writer intended, it seems maybe this is a study of a descent into madness, rather than waking up in an empty world and honestly reckoning with what the hell has happened. So why Jonas smashes up things inside his parents' flat, or drives a car through a showroom plate glass window left me thinking what an idiot, rather than placing Jonas on a psychiatrist's couch and analyzing issues with his parents, and a potential death-wish in order to feel alive.
There were a few paragraphs later in the book that seemed to delve more directly into the cerebral approach, but this after a harrowing journey to see if he can find his lost girlfriend. Again that smacks of blockbuster action moves, rather than a novel of the mind.
Living in two worlds, this book winds up as alone as its main character. And like him, the most interesting bits for the reader may occur when s/he sleeps between the "action."
Read
June 6, 2019DNFed at around 40 pages, because all he's done so far is drive around and break into buildings and I'm so bored
September 4, 2025
Full Disclosure: Es ist eine meiner ältesten Fantasien, plötzlich vollkommen allein auf der Welt zu sein. Ich kann mich erinnern, dass ich diese Vorstellung schon als kleines Kind hatte. Plot Twist: Es war keine Horrorvorstellung, sondern eine Art Sehnsuchtsort. (Und ja, jetzt darf man sich fragen, was bei mir falsch gelaufen ist.)
Anyway, aufgrund dessen hat mich "Die Arbeit der Nacht" interessiert. Ich wollte wissen, was ein Autor draus macht. Fazit: Leider nicht so unglaublich viel, mhm. Das meiste passiert hier "on the page" und bleibt auch da. Jonas, unser Held, ist plötzlich vollkommen allein. Ziemlich bald entwickelt er sowohl einen Verfolgungswahn als auch lauter zwanghafte Handlungsmuster. Er stellt überall Kameras auf, er schlafwandelt, er fährt durch die Gegend (bis nach England). Und das immer und immer wieder. Das macht den Roman unglaublich deskriptiv, ohne dass darüber hinaus etwas bzw. viel mit der Figur passiert. Von Zeit zu Zeit gibt es semi-philosophische Einschübe, in denen Jonas über seine Situation nachsinnt. Diese sind jedoch selten und gehen nicht sonderlich tief.
Man darf sich durchaus fragen, was in dem Roman tatsächlich vorgeht - Dystopie, Psychose des Protagonisten - und das ist natürlich interessant. Aber diese Frage auf 9 Stunden auszudiskutieren (und das Hörbuch war sogar gekürzt) ist einfach zu sehr ausgewalzt und bringt nach längstens der Hälfte nichts Neues mehr.
Anyway, aufgrund dessen hat mich "Die Arbeit der Nacht" interessiert. Ich wollte wissen, was ein Autor draus macht. Fazit: Leider nicht so unglaublich viel, mhm. Das meiste passiert hier "on the page" und bleibt auch da. Jonas, unser Held, ist plötzlich vollkommen allein. Ziemlich bald entwickelt er sowohl einen Verfolgungswahn als auch lauter zwanghafte Handlungsmuster. Er stellt überall Kameras auf, er schlafwandelt, er fährt durch die Gegend (bis nach England). Und das immer und immer wieder. Das macht den Roman unglaublich deskriptiv, ohne dass darüber hinaus etwas bzw. viel mit der Figur passiert. Von Zeit zu Zeit gibt es semi-philosophische Einschübe, in denen Jonas über seine Situation nachsinnt. Diese sind jedoch selten und gehen nicht sonderlich tief.
Man darf sich durchaus fragen, was in dem Roman tatsächlich vorgeht - Dystopie, Psychose des Protagonisten - und das ist natürlich interessant. Aber diese Frage auf 9 Stunden auszudiskutieren (und das Hörbuch war sogar gekürzt) ist einfach zu sehr ausgewalzt und bringt nach längstens der Hälfte nichts Neues mehr.
Read
November 28, 2018Made it to 100 pages and gave up - nice idea, no real plot so far. I can't be doing with any more of Jonas driving from empty place to empty place. Maybe it improves but I care so little, I won't be hanging around to find out.
January 11, 2023
uff, fertig. Als Film könnte ich es mir sogar halbwegs spannend vorstellen, aber so ist es nur ein weiterer Beweis, warum ich Bücher von Männern eher nicht lese. 💀
February 19, 2024
Der Großteil der Rezensenten schlägt sich offensichtlichs auf die eine oder auf die andere Seite. Man liebt diesen Roman oder man hasst ihn?
Da ich selbst deutlich Vertreter der liebenden Fraktion bin, kann ich es nicht nachvollziehen, finde es aber durchaus interessant.
Man könnte die Hypothese aufstellen, dass der Roman immerhin sehr erregt und unterschiedlichste Emotionen auslöst, das scheint mir gar kein schlechtes Zeichen zu sein.
Ich finde diesen Roman den besten von Glavinic, weil er am konsequentesten durchgehalten ist, von Anfang bis zum Ende fesselnd und unter der Oberfläche viel Stoff und Material zum Nachdenken mitgeliefert wird, das man aufgreifen kann, aber nicht muss.
Man kann es als abenteuerliche Dystopie lesen, als Traum voller Metaphern, als Road Trip, als existenzialistisches Werk, so oder so ein literarischer Genuss höchster Güteklasse.
Da ich selbst deutlich Vertreter der liebenden Fraktion bin, kann ich es nicht nachvollziehen, finde es aber durchaus interessant.
Man könnte die Hypothese aufstellen, dass der Roman immerhin sehr erregt und unterschiedlichste Emotionen auslöst, das scheint mir gar kein schlechtes Zeichen zu sein.
Ich finde diesen Roman den besten von Glavinic, weil er am konsequentesten durchgehalten ist, von Anfang bis zum Ende fesselnd und unter der Oberfläche viel Stoff und Material zum Nachdenken mitgeliefert wird, das man aufgreifen kann, aber nicht muss.
Man kann es als abenteuerliche Dystopie lesen, als Traum voller Metaphern, als Road Trip, als existenzialistisches Werk, so oder so ein literarischer Genuss höchster Güteklasse.
October 10, 2008
Thomas Glavinic, Night Work (Canongate, 2006)
Imagine you wake up one morning and find that, as far as you can tell, you are the last living being left on Earth. What would you do?
This is the premise of Thomas Glavinic's Night Work, his third novel (though the first to be translated into English). First off, let me warn you to ignore the copy on the back cover, which calls this a fast-paced thriller; it is anything but. Instead, it's a deliberately-paced novel of existential crisis taken to the extreme; the kind of thing Sartre might have been on about had he decided to take a crack at writing a fantasy novel.
Our hero is named Jonas, and not surprisingly given my opening paragraph, Night Work concerns his activities as (as far as he knows) the last living being left on Earth. Jonas, we quickly find out, is not a model of mental stability, and do much of his action focuses on trying not to lose his mind. In Glavinic's eyes, however, that seems to be an inevitable consequence of isolation, and we find ourselves watching his slow slide into insanity. There is one possible saving grace: Jonas' girlfriend, who was off in Britain at the time of whatever catastrophe caused the extinction of the rest of the planet's life. Stephen King once equated Hartford with hope; for Jonas, it's England.
It's an extremely interesting concept, the writing of an entire book with only a single character, and as an experiment, it's a great idea. I'm not sure the execution came out as well as planned; it seems Glavinic could have done a lot more with this conceit than he actually did. I readily admit that this is probably more a personal than a professional reaction on my part, as I simply couldn't identify with Jonas' anxiety from the very beginning; it seems to me that if one finds oneself in this kind of situation, the first priorities one should have would be more pragmatic, like stocking up on food and getting as many perishables as possible into the deep freeze. (I have this same problem with characters who just wander around clueless at the beginnings of zombie novels.) Because of that, I found myself considering the first few days of Jonas' enforced isolation as needlessly manipulative on Glavinic's part, and I never could shake that feeling as I kept reading. Still, the farther I got into it, and the more insight I got into Jonas' character, the more believable his actions became-- even his continually putting off going to England to see if his girlfriend had also survived. (I'm not going to let you in on whether he ever actually goes or not, you'll have to find out for yourself.) It's Jonas' character, and the gradual way in which Glavinic reveals it, that makes this book more existential drama than psychological thriller, as well; while there's obviously a plot here, it does take a back seat to Jonas' ruminating over his situation on many occasions, and the book puts me far more in mind of Sartre than it does, say, Dean Koontz.
Not bad. Worth reading if you're a fan of the character-driven novel. ***
Imagine you wake up one morning and find that, as far as you can tell, you are the last living being left on Earth. What would you do?
This is the premise of Thomas Glavinic's Night Work, his third novel (though the first to be translated into English). First off, let me warn you to ignore the copy on the back cover, which calls this a fast-paced thriller; it is anything but. Instead, it's a deliberately-paced novel of existential crisis taken to the extreme; the kind of thing Sartre might have been on about had he decided to take a crack at writing a fantasy novel.
Our hero is named Jonas, and not surprisingly given my opening paragraph, Night Work concerns his activities as (as far as he knows) the last living being left on Earth. Jonas, we quickly find out, is not a model of mental stability, and do much of his action focuses on trying not to lose his mind. In Glavinic's eyes, however, that seems to be an inevitable consequence of isolation, and we find ourselves watching his slow slide into insanity. There is one possible saving grace: Jonas' girlfriend, who was off in Britain at the time of whatever catastrophe caused the extinction of the rest of the planet's life. Stephen King once equated Hartford with hope; for Jonas, it's England.
It's an extremely interesting concept, the writing of an entire book with only a single character, and as an experiment, it's a great idea. I'm not sure the execution came out as well as planned; it seems Glavinic could have done a lot more with this conceit than he actually did. I readily admit that this is probably more a personal than a professional reaction on my part, as I simply couldn't identify with Jonas' anxiety from the very beginning; it seems to me that if one finds oneself in this kind of situation, the first priorities one should have would be more pragmatic, like stocking up on food and getting as many perishables as possible into the deep freeze. (I have this same problem with characters who just wander around clueless at the beginnings of zombie novels.) Because of that, I found myself considering the first few days of Jonas' enforced isolation as needlessly manipulative on Glavinic's part, and I never could shake that feeling as I kept reading. Still, the farther I got into it, and the more insight I got into Jonas' character, the more believable his actions became-- even his continually putting off going to England to see if his girlfriend had also survived. (I'm not going to let you in on whether he ever actually goes or not, you'll have to find out for yourself.) It's Jonas' character, and the gradual way in which Glavinic reveals it, that makes this book more existential drama than psychological thriller, as well; while there's obviously a plot here, it does take a back seat to Jonas' ruminating over his situation on many occasions, and the book puts me far more in mind of Sartre than it does, say, Dean Koontz.
Not bad. Worth reading if you're a fan of the character-driven novel. ***
December 14, 2017
Glavinics Schreibstil ist ansprechend, genau wie die Prämissen seiner Werke – insbesondere die unerklärlichen Dinge, die dem Protagonisten widerfahren, werden richtig bedrückend bis gruselig beschrieben; man fühlt sich beim Lesen so unwohl, als erlebte man es selber. Hier hat sich die Geschichte für meinen Geschmack allerdings etwas zu lange hingezogen, sodass es in einem leicht ungeduldigen Die-Seiten-Überfliegen endete.
March 16, 2010
A man wakes up in Vienna completely alone. There is no one on the streets, no television or radio, no sign of mankind or indeed any other living creature. Even the old horror stand-bys of zombies and vampires are not around to fill his time. It is just one man alone in the twenty first century.
Thomas Glavinic’s impressive novel follows this man as he tries to make sense of this new world, all the time reaching out in case there are others like him hidden somewhere and – as time goes on – increasingly having to ward off insanity. It’s actually an incredibly brave thing to write a book with a solitary person alone in the world with no natural area of conflict, apart from a bizarre situation. The fact that it maintains its interest for most of its 350+ pages (I would say about 75 were superfluous, particularly the details of dreams) is a great achievement.
The ending to be fair is anticlimactic, but this is a strange, disturbing and thought provoking work. It’s probably not a book you’d fall in love with, but there’s no doubt it will stay in my mind for some time to come.
Thomas Glavinic’s impressive novel follows this man as he tries to make sense of this new world, all the time reaching out in case there are others like him hidden somewhere and – as time goes on – increasingly having to ward off insanity. It’s actually an incredibly brave thing to write a book with a solitary person alone in the world with no natural area of conflict, apart from a bizarre situation. The fact that it maintains its interest for most of its 350+ pages (I would say about 75 were superfluous, particularly the details of dreams) is a great achievement.
The ending to be fair is anticlimactic, but this is a strange, disturbing and thought provoking work. It’s probably not a book you’d fall in love with, but there’s no doubt it will stay in my mind for some time to come.
October 8, 2019
Ehrlicherweise habe ich das Buch nur fertig gelesen, weil es ein Pflichtbuch bei eine Freundes-Reading Challenge ist und ich doch tatsächlich alle Pflichtbücher lesen wollte. Aber hier ist es mir richtig schwer gefallen. Zum einen ist da natürlich der Inhalt, oder halt das Fehlen dessen. Der Roman ist so unglaublich öd. Nicht nur, weil nichts passiert, sondern weil das auch noch furchtbar erzählt ist. Ich habe den Überblick verloren, wie oft irgendwo eine Kamera aufgestellt wurde. Und dann diese wenig geglückten Versuche, innere Konflikte darzustellen, die psychische Belastung des Alleinseins. Wobei ich zugeben muss, dass ich möglicherweise mit einer etwas positiveren Einstellung in den Text eingetaucht wäre, wenn mich nicht von Anfang an diese auffälligen Germanismen gestört hätten. Ich bin wahrscheinlich die einzige, die das so geärgert hat. Aber wenn ein österreichischer Autor in einem Buch, das in Österreich spielt, das er so speziell hier verankert hat, von Bürgersteigen, Kippen und Tüten schreibt, dann wird mein Lesefluss gestört.
Und ganz nebenbei: Ich kenne in und um Wien keinen Baumarkt, in den man erstens hineinfahren kann und zweites mit einem Auto durch die Gänge kommt. Und bitte könnte jemand Herrn Glavinic und seiner Lektorin sagen, dass man Konservendosen nicht in der Mikrowelle erwärmen kann? Danke.
Und ganz nebenbei: Ich kenne in und um Wien keinen Baumarkt, in den man erstens hineinfahren kann und zweites mit einem Auto durch die Gänge kommt. Und bitte könnte jemand Herrn Glavinic und seiner Lektorin sagen, dass man Konservendosen nicht in der Mikrowelle erwärmen kann? Danke.
June 17, 2017
Tegemist on "Palle üksi maailmas" adult versiooniga. Palle üksikiolekus ei olnud midagi hirmsat, lõpuks hakkas Pallel lihtsalt igav, ei mäleta ka enam nii täpselt, siinne aga on esindatud peaaegu kõigi foobiatega, mida inimene koheselt täiesti üksi jäädes pingsalt läbi elama hakkab. Üldiselt mulle selline karakterivaene ilukirjandus ei meeldi, kuid autor suutis pinget luua päris hästi- erinevate mälestuste, tegevuste, tekkiva hulluse, mõstika ja eelkõige skisofreenia abil. Võrdlusena pole suurt erinevust väga minakesksete teoste ja taolise "ainukese elusolendina maailma maha jäänud" loo vahel. Mõned naiivsused, ebakõlad ja totrused kõrvale heites üsna loetav lugu.
January 1, 2025
A familiar concept, where one person is the last living thing in the world. This book does a great job of exploring the loneliness and instability that will result from this isolation, but by necessity the book can be tedious, as you are stuck with just our narrator as he wanders through Austria.
It does it's central concept very well, and there are scenes in the second half that were extremely creepy and stuck with me.
I can't truly recommend it, but am glad I read it and still have core parts of it that stuck with me.
It does it's central concept very well, and there are scenes in the second half that were extremely creepy and stuck with me.
I can't truly recommend it, but am glad I read it and still have core parts of it that stuck with me.
October 4, 2021
2,5 stars... Das Problem mit diesem Buch war für mich, dass einfach nichts passiert. Es ist kein schlechtes Buch und während man es liest fällt es auch nicht schwer zu folgen, aber sobald es einmal aus der Hand gelegt wird, ist es schwierig einen Grund zu finden es wieder aufzuschlagen, vor allem wenn man merkt, [SPOILER] dass das ganze auf keinen Plot Twist oder tiefgründigeren Aha-Moment zu läuft.
July 10, 2016
Hace un año, más o menos, vi una película japonesa. En ella se muestra una mujer que se despierta sola en el planeta como si las personas se hubieran evaporado. Restan los objetos que estaban usando. Todo sigue en pie: la planta eléctrica sigue funcionando, la red de agua. Poco nos va mostrando que suceden cosas fuera de lo esperable y nos adentramos en un mundo onírico. Cuando leía la novela creí que había sido inspirada en la película, o viceversa, ya que era coincidente en algunos aspectos. Ambos plantean el mismo inicio y muestran un mundo onírico, surrealista. Quizás fue la película la que me guió a plantearme qué sucedió con los seres humanos en la novela.
Con Dear Esther (videogame) el paralelismo es mayor, incluso el final es idéntico: el protagonista se arroja desde lo alto de una torre y en tanto cae, reflexiona. En Dear Esther el protagonista también recorre, solo, una isla y recuerda. No sabemos si está muerto o si está vivo. Algunos lo han interpretado como un fantasma que revive hasta su muerte una y otra vez.
La novela deja muchos cabos sueltos: qué sucedió con la humanidad, qué le sucedió al protagonista. Mis hipótesis han sido: está muerto, está en coma, está soñando, está en una especie de limbo o purgatorio. La primera la descarté a la mitad de la novela porque no aparecen otros muertos, nada relativo a estar muerto, lo que uno se imagina ya que no lo podemos saber aún cómo es. Que el protagonista esté soñando la descarté por cliché. Sería algo muy burdo apelar a “al final estaba soñando”. Me quedé con la otra hipótesis: el protagonista está en coma y en una especie de tránsito entre la muerte y la vida, un limbo. De esta manera, me cierra que el espacio sea imaginario, que aparezcan objetos y desaparezcan, que se aferre a los recuerdos, que busque objetos de sus seres queridos para aferrarse a ellos, que escuche sonidos y murmullos de fondo que no saben de dónde vienen (vendrán de quienes lo están cuidando, quizás, en un hospital). Y me cierra el final: él se arroja desde lo alto de una iglesia, él decide morir. Aparece al final una reflexión sobre la vida y la muerte.
Otro aspecto que me llevó a pensar que estaba en coma es la alusión continua al “durmiente”, como si él estuviera desdoblado en dos personas, quien duerme que intenta comunicarse con él a través de las grabaciones, y él, que se mira dormir. Alude, además, al momento de la muerte, a la muerte de sus seres queridos. En toda la obra, él está obsesionado con la muerte y la pervivencia de los objetos, con aquello que no hizo y hubiera querido como pisar el polo sur. Él busca respuestas sobre la muerte y sobre el transcurrir del tiempo lineal, circular o paralelo. Es alguien, según mi punto de vista, que busca respuestas antes de morir. Y esa es la forma en que él pudo, mediante la imaginación de una vida paralela en un mundo onírico.
En resumen, los aspectos que tuve en cuenta para pensar que él estaba en coma:
-La alusión a la oscuridad que progresivamente aparece calle a calle. Oscuridad como desintegración y muerte.
-Los servicios de toda la ciudad, agua y electricidad, que siguen funcionando. No es verosímil que suceda. Quizás los primeros días, sí. Luego, tiene que no haber agua, ni luz, al menos. Entonces, me queda como espacio imaginario. Los únicos servicios cortados desde el primer momento son los de las comunicaciones, incluso no pudiendo acceder a páginas web.
-Él alude a que se imagina cosas.
-El silencio es irreal. Deberían sonar sirenas producto de sucesos aleatorios como rotura de un vidrio por la caída de un árbol en una vidriera
-El “durmiente” como otra persona, como alguien a quien él observa como diferente
-Búsqueda de sus recuerdos y del pasado. Comprenderse a sí mismo
-Él dice que se imaginaba y deseaba morir pensando en el amor y fue así que busca los objetos de Marie y es para ella el último pensamiento. En realidad el vive un tránsito, quizás en la vida real son unos cinco minutos, hasta encontrar el coraje de despedirse de la vida y de enfrentarse a su muerte
Sentí que durante toda la novela, no pasaba mucho. Solo me sostuvo hasta el final saber qué había pasado con la humanidad, pero ese fue el contexto donde desarrolló la historia. No era el objetivo del autor explayarse en ese tema sino focalizarse sólo en el protagonista. De esta manera, así como él no puede saber qué ha sucedido con las personas y todos los animales, así aparece como vacío en la obra.
Por otra parte, el hombre frente a su soledad, al final, podría despertar otras reflexiones, sobre la vida en general, sobre la muerte, pero el autor solo recalca la misma idea una y otra vez: la pervivencia de los objetos más allá de la muerte y de la ausencia de las personas. Por momentos, hasta obvio.
La historia tiene mucho potencial pero se tornó muy repetitiva, con una sensación de que no pasó mucho y que se podría haber dicho en 150 páginas.
Con Dear Esther (videogame) el paralelismo es mayor, incluso el final es idéntico: el protagonista se arroja desde lo alto de una torre y en tanto cae, reflexiona. En Dear Esther el protagonista también recorre, solo, una isla y recuerda. No sabemos si está muerto o si está vivo. Algunos lo han interpretado como un fantasma que revive hasta su muerte una y otra vez.
La novela deja muchos cabos sueltos: qué sucedió con la humanidad, qué le sucedió al protagonista. Mis hipótesis han sido: está muerto, está en coma, está soñando, está en una especie de limbo o purgatorio. La primera la descarté a la mitad de la novela porque no aparecen otros muertos, nada relativo a estar muerto, lo que uno se imagina ya que no lo podemos saber aún cómo es. Que el protagonista esté soñando la descarté por cliché. Sería algo muy burdo apelar a “al final estaba soñando”. Me quedé con la otra hipótesis: el protagonista está en coma y en una especie de tránsito entre la muerte y la vida, un limbo. De esta manera, me cierra que el espacio sea imaginario, que aparezcan objetos y desaparezcan, que se aferre a los recuerdos, que busque objetos de sus seres queridos para aferrarse a ellos, que escuche sonidos y murmullos de fondo que no saben de dónde vienen (vendrán de quienes lo están cuidando, quizás, en un hospital). Y me cierra el final: él se arroja desde lo alto de una iglesia, él decide morir. Aparece al final una reflexión sobre la vida y la muerte.
Otro aspecto que me llevó a pensar que estaba en coma es la alusión continua al “durmiente”, como si él estuviera desdoblado en dos personas, quien duerme que intenta comunicarse con él a través de las grabaciones, y él, que se mira dormir. Alude, además, al momento de la muerte, a la muerte de sus seres queridos. En toda la obra, él está obsesionado con la muerte y la pervivencia de los objetos, con aquello que no hizo y hubiera querido como pisar el polo sur. Él busca respuestas sobre la muerte y sobre el transcurrir del tiempo lineal, circular o paralelo. Es alguien, según mi punto de vista, que busca respuestas antes de morir. Y esa es la forma en que él pudo, mediante la imaginación de una vida paralela en un mundo onírico.
En resumen, los aspectos que tuve en cuenta para pensar que él estaba en coma:
-La alusión a la oscuridad que progresivamente aparece calle a calle. Oscuridad como desintegración y muerte.
-Los servicios de toda la ciudad, agua y electricidad, que siguen funcionando. No es verosímil que suceda. Quizás los primeros días, sí. Luego, tiene que no haber agua, ni luz, al menos. Entonces, me queda como espacio imaginario. Los únicos servicios cortados desde el primer momento son los de las comunicaciones, incluso no pudiendo acceder a páginas web.
-Él alude a que se imagina cosas.
-El silencio es irreal. Deberían sonar sirenas producto de sucesos aleatorios como rotura de un vidrio por la caída de un árbol en una vidriera
-El “durmiente” como otra persona, como alguien a quien él observa como diferente
-Búsqueda de sus recuerdos y del pasado. Comprenderse a sí mismo
-Él dice que se imaginaba y deseaba morir pensando en el amor y fue así que busca los objetos de Marie y es para ella el último pensamiento. En realidad el vive un tránsito, quizás en la vida real son unos cinco minutos, hasta encontrar el coraje de despedirse de la vida y de enfrentarse a su muerte
Sentí que durante toda la novela, no pasaba mucho. Solo me sostuvo hasta el final saber qué había pasado con la humanidad, pero ese fue el contexto donde desarrolló la historia. No era el objetivo del autor explayarse en ese tema sino focalizarse sólo en el protagonista. De esta manera, así como él no puede saber qué ha sucedido con las personas y todos los animales, así aparece como vacío en la obra.
Por otra parte, el hombre frente a su soledad, al final, podría despertar otras reflexiones, sobre la vida en general, sobre la muerte, pero el autor solo recalca la misma idea una y otra vez: la pervivencia de los objetos más allá de la muerte y de la ausencia de las personas. Por momentos, hasta obvio.
La historia tiene mucho potencial pero se tornó muy repetitiva, con una sensación de que no pasó mucho y que se podría haber dicho en 150 páginas.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 5, 2024
Interessante Idee, meiner Meinung nach etwas ziellos. Ich hätte mir von einigen Dingen erwartet, dass sie noch aufgeklärt werden.
April 4, 2024
Thomas Glavinic's Night Work is hardly the first novel of its kind. The "Last Man" (or variations of it) has long been a prominent theme in contemporary popular fiction. Like most modern works of the overall post-apocalyptic genre, "Last Man" stories often focus on the fall-out of some spectacular catastrophe. Sometimes it is supernatural in origin (I Am Legend, Dean Koontz's Phantoms), but, as in most post-apocalyptic fiction, many of these books and movies seem to be "what if?" scenarios of WMD's, social philosophy, or bio-/genetic engineering gone wrong.
Night Work is different. One fine summer day in Vienna, Jonas woke up and found all humans, animals, and insects gone, replaced by dead silence and stillness under the cloudless blue sky. The ensuing story is acutely psychological, focusing on Jonas's memories and his relationships to the now-vanished people. It is also paranoid and even vaguely grotesque, recalling that famous image (often called the world's shortest horror story) of the last man on Earth, sitting alone in his room and suddenly hearing a knock at the door. There is another version of that, which imagines the last man on Earth, sitting alone in his room, with a lock on his door. Against what? The loneliness closing in on all sides? Or. . . ?
When there are no fellow humans to contend with, what are other potential sources of conflict? Who or what could be your enemy?
In essence: the point of Night Work is not so much what does happen but what could happen, especially once the line between the internal and the external has been blurred, and it turns out that conflict with yourself can be as intense as clashing with other individuals, especially in a world gone horribly wrong. The juxtaposition of a massive, sudden trauma and the subsequent lack of any human interaction whatsoever eventually leads Jonas to turn on himself. His personality splits between "Jonas" and "the Sleeper" - the nickname he gives his own sleeping image on the camera he set up after noticing unsettling changes in the apartment, despite the locked doors and windows. All Jonas remembers of the nights are haunting, surreal dreams, but the Sleeper is clearly challenging him, thwarting his plans and engaging in bizarre and increasingly menacing behavior.
Jonas's waking hours, meanwhile, are dominated by mounting paranoia driven by both his nightmarish situation and his own fevered imagination. He thinks he hears sounds or notices movement out of the corner his eye. At one point, walking down a street, he envisions a woman waiting for him behind a nearby van, wearing a nun-like wimple and having no face. Then he develops his own version of ManBearPig.
Glavinic's book is ultimately a study on the power of fantasy. Jonas often meditates on a world - revealed by his many video cameras - that exists even when there are no humans around to see it. (If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound?) He recreates his family and friends out of his memories of childhood, travel, dating, and ordinary moments. ("These fragments I have shored against my ruin. . .") Do humans make the world or does the world make humans? Jonas watches film after film of empty scenery, and yet his own subconscious concocts threats and hazards - physical and imagined - that do not exist.
Night Work is by far one of the creepiest books I have ever read. It has a couple of irritating plot holes in that the water and electricity somehow continue to function perfectly; plus, a world without insects is ecologically impossible. But none of that detracts from the overall story, which is gripping and fast-paced, despite its complete lack of action. "No zombies," gripes one Amazon reviewer. "No marauding gangs of outlaws looking for fuel for their cars. Just a boring guy in Austria." Granted, it's not the post-apocalyptic book for everyone, especially not readers more interested in Matheson-style monster-whacking. But I found Glavinic's subtle, understated atmosphere far, far scarier than any shambling corpse or pessimistic war/environmental cautionary tale.
Original Review
Night Work is different. One fine summer day in Vienna, Jonas woke up and found all humans, animals, and insects gone, replaced by dead silence and stillness under the cloudless blue sky. The ensuing story is acutely psychological, focusing on Jonas's memories and his relationships to the now-vanished people. It is also paranoid and even vaguely grotesque, recalling that famous image (often called the world's shortest horror story) of the last man on Earth, sitting alone in his room and suddenly hearing a knock at the door. There is another version of that, which imagines the last man on Earth, sitting alone in his room, with a lock on his door. Against what? The loneliness closing in on all sides? Or. . . ?
When there are no fellow humans to contend with, what are other potential sources of conflict? Who or what could be your enemy?
In essence: the point of Night Work is not so much what does happen but what could happen, especially once the line between the internal and the external has been blurred, and it turns out that conflict with yourself can be as intense as clashing with other individuals, especially in a world gone horribly wrong. The juxtaposition of a massive, sudden trauma and the subsequent lack of any human interaction whatsoever eventually leads Jonas to turn on himself. His personality splits between "Jonas" and "the Sleeper" - the nickname he gives his own sleeping image on the camera he set up after noticing unsettling changes in the apartment, despite the locked doors and windows. All Jonas remembers of the nights are haunting, surreal dreams, but the Sleeper is clearly challenging him, thwarting his plans and engaging in bizarre and increasingly menacing behavior.
Jonas's waking hours, meanwhile, are dominated by mounting paranoia driven by both his nightmarish situation and his own fevered imagination. He thinks he hears sounds or notices movement out of the corner his eye. At one point, walking down a street, he envisions a woman waiting for him behind a nearby van, wearing a nun-like wimple and having no face. Then he develops his own version of ManBearPig.
Glavinic's book is ultimately a study on the power of fantasy. Jonas often meditates on a world - revealed by his many video cameras - that exists even when there are no humans around to see it. (If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound?) He recreates his family and friends out of his memories of childhood, travel, dating, and ordinary moments. ("These fragments I have shored against my ruin. . .") Do humans make the world or does the world make humans? Jonas watches film after film of empty scenery, and yet his own subconscious concocts threats and hazards - physical and imagined - that do not exist.
Night Work is by far one of the creepiest books I have ever read. It has a couple of irritating plot holes in that the water and electricity somehow continue to function perfectly; plus, a world without insects is ecologically impossible. But none of that detracts from the overall story, which is gripping and fast-paced, despite its complete lack of action. "No zombies," gripes one Amazon reviewer. "No marauding gangs of outlaws looking for fuel for their cars. Just a boring guy in Austria." Granted, it's not the post-apocalyptic book for everyone, especially not readers more interested in Matheson-style monster-whacking. But I found Glavinic's subtle, understated atmosphere far, far scarier than any shambling corpse or pessimistic war/environmental cautionary tale.
Original Review
July 24, 2021
Most. Boring. Apocalypse. Book. Ever. If I woke up tomorrow and found myself alone on earth, I could fill 375 pages in much better ways.
April 21, 2010
Glavinic, Thomas Night Work (2006) trans by John Brownjohn (2008) *****
Kafka-esque treatment of the “alone in the world” theme
Thirty-six-year-old Jonas, a resident of Vienna, Thomas Glavinic’s everyman-type protagonist, wakes up one day and finds that everybody but himself has disappeared: gone without a trace. It’s not clear whether other forms of life are also gone, but he hears no birds nor does he see any stray dogs. No flies buzz and no mosquitoes bite. He does see trees, and the electricity and the hot water (somehow) work.
This is a familiar science fiction premise, but Glavinic’s treatment is pure Kafka. He doesn’t attempt in any way to account for the disappearance (much as Kafka did not attempt to explain how Gregor Samsa became “a monstrous verminous bug”); instead he shows us how Jonas copes with this stupendously extraordinary event. Jonas seems to think it has something to do with his mind, and that he is missing something ghostly, and so he sets up cameras to record himself and his surroundings. Turns out that “the Sleeper” walks and does other unremembered things while sleeping. Jonas also seems to think that there is somebody (or something) else about and so he leaves his name and phone number and address everywhere. He carries around a shotgun and a knife for protection from God knows what.
To be honest I almost gave up on this most unusual novel after the first few pages, it seemed so flat; but I’m glad I didn’t. Glavinic uses the reader’s interest in learning more about what has happened and why, and whether Jonas will find other survivors, as a device to keep the reader wondering, while what the novel is really about unfolds. And what the novel is about is the human predicament.
Jonas is alone physically as we are all alone psychologically. His life with other people now exists only inside his head, in his memory of them. He tries to return to the comfort of his childhood by going back to the apartment he grew up in and restoring the furniture and the artifacts of his childhood. He tries to return his fiancée Marie to himself by finding her clothes and smelling them.
But ultimately Jonas is besieged by demons and the subconscious forces of self-destruction. He finds little things out of place. He hears sounds that aren’t there and movements out of the corner of his eyes. He turns quickly in an attempt to catch something that is going on behind him. He becomes obsessed with the idea that something is happening when he isn’t there and can’t see it, and so he gets more cameras and more cameras and sets them up at intersections and other places in Vienna and elsewhere and has them run all night hoping to catch what his eyes miss. He spends hours viewing the film, looking for something out of the ordinary, something ghostly. He begins the see that “The Sleeper,” has turned perverse and instead of sleeping begins to work against Jonas and his efforts. But Jonas can’t catch him in the act. Jonas becomes afraid of the Sleeper and tries not to sleep at all. He drives at high speeds on the empty roads and begins taking pills to stay awake. He seems to be rapidly disintegrating.
What happens to the human alone? Can the mind really cope with the silence, the lack of movement, the absence of touch, the utter isolation? Is Jonas’ experience in some way akin to being in solitary confinement, but without any hope of ever emerging? Will the last human left on earth patiently travel around the world looking for some other living being, or will he gradually go mad? Or, will he destroy himself?
And if we are all ultimately alone, what is it that allows us to hold onto sanity and to find some purpose in life?
Like Kafka and Freud (two other sometime residents of Vienna), Glavinic writes in German. (The English translation by John Brownjohn is very readable.) And like Kafka and Freud Glavinic sees the absurd in our lives, and in the individual a perverse longing for death.
This is the kind of novel that challenges the reader psychologically and philosophically. It draws the reader in and does not let go until the last page is eagerly read.
--a review by Dennis Littrell
Kafka-esque treatment of the “alone in the world” theme
Thirty-six-year-old Jonas, a resident of Vienna, Thomas Glavinic’s everyman-type protagonist, wakes up one day and finds that everybody but himself has disappeared: gone without a trace. It’s not clear whether other forms of life are also gone, but he hears no birds nor does he see any stray dogs. No flies buzz and no mosquitoes bite. He does see trees, and the electricity and the hot water (somehow) work.
This is a familiar science fiction premise, but Glavinic’s treatment is pure Kafka. He doesn’t attempt in any way to account for the disappearance (much as Kafka did not attempt to explain how Gregor Samsa became “a monstrous verminous bug”); instead he shows us how Jonas copes with this stupendously extraordinary event. Jonas seems to think it has something to do with his mind, and that he is missing something ghostly, and so he sets up cameras to record himself and his surroundings. Turns out that “the Sleeper” walks and does other unremembered things while sleeping. Jonas also seems to think that there is somebody (or something) else about and so he leaves his name and phone number and address everywhere. He carries around a shotgun and a knife for protection from God knows what.
To be honest I almost gave up on this most unusual novel after the first few pages, it seemed so flat; but I’m glad I didn’t. Glavinic uses the reader’s interest in learning more about what has happened and why, and whether Jonas will find other survivors, as a device to keep the reader wondering, while what the novel is really about unfolds. And what the novel is about is the human predicament.
Jonas is alone physically as we are all alone psychologically. His life with other people now exists only inside his head, in his memory of them. He tries to return to the comfort of his childhood by going back to the apartment he grew up in and restoring the furniture and the artifacts of his childhood. He tries to return his fiancée Marie to himself by finding her clothes and smelling them.
But ultimately Jonas is besieged by demons and the subconscious forces of self-destruction. He finds little things out of place. He hears sounds that aren’t there and movements out of the corner of his eyes. He turns quickly in an attempt to catch something that is going on behind him. He becomes obsessed with the idea that something is happening when he isn’t there and can’t see it, and so he gets more cameras and more cameras and sets them up at intersections and other places in Vienna and elsewhere and has them run all night hoping to catch what his eyes miss. He spends hours viewing the film, looking for something out of the ordinary, something ghostly. He begins the see that “The Sleeper,” has turned perverse and instead of sleeping begins to work against Jonas and his efforts. But Jonas can’t catch him in the act. Jonas becomes afraid of the Sleeper and tries not to sleep at all. He drives at high speeds on the empty roads and begins taking pills to stay awake. He seems to be rapidly disintegrating.
What happens to the human alone? Can the mind really cope with the silence, the lack of movement, the absence of touch, the utter isolation? Is Jonas’ experience in some way akin to being in solitary confinement, but without any hope of ever emerging? Will the last human left on earth patiently travel around the world looking for some other living being, or will he gradually go mad? Or, will he destroy himself?
And if we are all ultimately alone, what is it that allows us to hold onto sanity and to find some purpose in life?
Like Kafka and Freud (two other sometime residents of Vienna), Glavinic writes in German. (The English translation by John Brownjohn is very readable.) And like Kafka and Freud Glavinic sees the absurd in our lives, and in the individual a perverse longing for death.
This is the kind of novel that challenges the reader psychologically and philosophically. It draws the reader in and does not let go until the last page is eagerly read.
--a review by Dennis Littrell
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 14, 2015
I can't guarantee I won't give spoilers, so this review is probably going to be for people who've read Night Work and need to decompress with likeminded travellers.
Jonas wakes up one morning to find he is the last person left alive. The electricity is still running, but nothing else stirs. There are no bodies. No animals or birdsong. He is completely alone. He searches the city, leaves messages everywhere, dials stored numbers in the phones of offices and shops, gets drunk a lot, breaks into the homes of people he knew, develops forms of madness and strategies to stop himself feeling so alone.
Gradually his discomfort becomes deeper rooted and his fears more destabilising. He gives himself missions. He goes back to his childhood home, visits the camp site where the family used to holiday. He sifts through the evidence of his past and considers what remains of it, becomes increasingly aware of the finiteness of moments, the necessity to leave traces of himself and the inexorable onward tick of time, heedless of the cycles of humanity.
This is a bold and simple idea, thoughtfully executed, that's left me pleasantly ruminating several days after finishing. It provokes thematic questions but it's also a story, about a man who is alone, re-evaluating his life, missing his girlfriend, wondering what became of the people he knew, and trying to stave off madness. At times the narrative is confusing and you feel you've gone round in circles - but this seems to fit with the material so I'll forgive him that. The prose is simple, but still able to worm into those enormous ideas when necessary.
It gives you a new colour to think in. Now if I find myself alone on a still day, miles from any car sounds, train sounds or other signs of life, I am thinking the same thoughts as Jonas. How much do other people give us our sense of reality and self? What does it mean to be truly alone? It doesn't feel wonderful, but this book is.
Jonas wakes up one morning to find he is the last person left alive. The electricity is still running, but nothing else stirs. There are no bodies. No animals or birdsong. He is completely alone. He searches the city, leaves messages everywhere, dials stored numbers in the phones of offices and shops, gets drunk a lot, breaks into the homes of people he knew, develops forms of madness and strategies to stop himself feeling so alone.
Gradually his discomfort becomes deeper rooted and his fears more destabilising. He gives himself missions. He goes back to his childhood home, visits the camp site where the family used to holiday. He sifts through the evidence of his past and considers what remains of it, becomes increasingly aware of the finiteness of moments, the necessity to leave traces of himself and the inexorable onward tick of time, heedless of the cycles of humanity.
This is a bold and simple idea, thoughtfully executed, that's left me pleasantly ruminating several days after finishing. It provokes thematic questions but it's also a story, about a man who is alone, re-evaluating his life, missing his girlfriend, wondering what became of the people he knew, and trying to stave off madness. At times the narrative is confusing and you feel you've gone round in circles - but this seems to fit with the material so I'll forgive him that. The prose is simple, but still able to worm into those enormous ideas when necessary.
It gives you a new colour to think in. Now if I find myself alone on a still day, miles from any car sounds, train sounds or other signs of life, I am thinking the same thoughts as Jonas. How much do other people give us our sense of reality and self? What does it mean to be truly alone? It doesn't feel wonderful, but this book is.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 12, 2020
Puh, das wäre fast das erste DNF in meiner Lesekarriere geworden...
Ein unglaublich träges, zähes Buch das nur in gewissen, wenigen Faktoren punkten kann.
Die Geschichte an sich kann man sich vorstellen wie den Film "I am Legend": minus der Spannung, minus der Bedrohung und minus dem knuddeligen Schäferhund.
Mehr zu der Handlung bliebt eigentlich (leider) auch nicht zu sagen, schlicht und ergreifend weil es nicht mehr ist - ab und an werden ein paar "vielleicht übernatürlich, vielleicht auch nicht" Streusel draufgestreut und tada - fertig ist die durchwachsene Geschichte.
Positive Punkte des Buches sind die beklemmende und angsteinflößende Atmosphäre und die Vorstellung, der letzte Mensch im Land/auf der Welt zu sein - teilweise gelingt es dem Autor so gut die Atmosphäre rüberzubringen, dass ich des Öfteren froh darüber war draußen ein Auto zu hören und zu wissen, dass mich dieses Schicksal nicht ereilt hat.
Die gut beschriebene, schleichend aufkommende Paranoia und die generelle Detailverliebtheit, wenn es um Beschreibungen verschiedener Dinge und Eindrücke der Hauptperson geht sind dann auch fast schon die letzten positiven Punkte, die sich das Buch bei mir eingeheimst hat.
Ein paar Bonuspunkte gibt es für den ein oder anderen "Aha, da war ich schon mal!"-Effekt für Plätze in Wien, Salzburg und anderen österreichischen Orten.
Fazit:
Weniger ist oft mehr - der knapp 400 Seiten starken Geschichte hätte es sehr wahrscheinlich wirklich gut getan, um die Hälfte reduziert zu werden, sich dafür aber auf die oben positiv erwähnten Punkte zu fokussieren und darauf aufzubauen - so ist es leider phasenweise so zäh und langweilig, dass mir des öfteren während des Lesens die Augen zugefallen sind - an für mich untypischen Schlafenszeiten, wohlgemerkt.
Ein unglaublich träges, zähes Buch das nur in gewissen, wenigen Faktoren punkten kann.
Die Geschichte an sich kann man sich vorstellen wie den Film "I am Legend": minus der Spannung, minus der Bedrohung und minus dem knuddeligen Schäferhund.
Mehr zu der Handlung bliebt eigentlich (leider) auch nicht zu sagen, schlicht und ergreifend weil es nicht mehr ist - ab und an werden ein paar "vielleicht übernatürlich, vielleicht auch nicht" Streusel draufgestreut und tada - fertig ist die durchwachsene Geschichte.
Positive Punkte des Buches sind die beklemmende und angsteinflößende Atmosphäre und die Vorstellung, der letzte Mensch im Land/auf der Welt zu sein - teilweise gelingt es dem Autor so gut die Atmosphäre rüberzubringen, dass ich des Öfteren froh darüber war draußen ein Auto zu hören und zu wissen, dass mich dieses Schicksal nicht ereilt hat.
Die gut beschriebene, schleichend aufkommende Paranoia und die generelle Detailverliebtheit, wenn es um Beschreibungen verschiedener Dinge und Eindrücke der Hauptperson geht sind dann auch fast schon die letzten positiven Punkte, die sich das Buch bei mir eingeheimst hat.
Ein paar Bonuspunkte gibt es für den ein oder anderen "Aha, da war ich schon mal!"-Effekt für Plätze in Wien, Salzburg und anderen österreichischen Orten.
Fazit:
Weniger ist oft mehr - der knapp 400 Seiten starken Geschichte hätte es sehr wahrscheinlich wirklich gut getan, um die Hälfte reduziert zu werden, sich dafür aber auf die oben positiv erwähnten Punkte zu fokussieren und darauf aufzubauen - so ist es leider phasenweise so zäh und langweilig, dass mir des öfteren während des Lesens die Augen zugefallen sind - an für mich untypischen Schlafenszeiten, wohlgemerkt.
December 11, 2008
WARNING: SPOILERS!
Although the two books are different in many ways, NW reminded me of How Late It Was, How Late by James Kelman in the sense that both are suspense novels* in which the big, horrific moment never actually happens. You keep expecting the boogeyman to jump out from the closet, both as an emotional payoff and as a way to figure out what's really going on. But as is often the case in real life, there is no explanation. The protagonist remains in the dark (either asleep, as in NW, or blind as in HLIWHL), and so do we. Glavinic is content to let us meander along with him as he outlines Jonas's struggle to make sense of a deserted world and his own existence within it in measured, almost affectless Germanic prose. It's very interesting, but also also tedious at times.
*I'm sure many would argue with me on this point of classification.
Although the two books are different in many ways, NW reminded me of How Late It Was, How Late by James Kelman in the sense that both are suspense novels* in which the big, horrific moment never actually happens. You keep expecting the boogeyman to jump out from the closet, both as an emotional payoff and as a way to figure out what's really going on. But as is often the case in real life, there is no explanation. The protagonist remains in the dark (either asleep, as in NW, or blind as in HLIWHL), and so do we. Glavinic is content to let us meander along with him as he outlines Jonas's struggle to make sense of a deserted world and his own existence within it in measured, almost affectless Germanic prose. It's very interesting, but also also tedious at times.
*I'm sure many would argue with me on this point of classification.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 166 reviews