What do you think?
Rate this book


204 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1991
Since the end of the war, I have been on this line, as they say: a long, twisted line stretching from Naples to the cold north, a line of locals, trams, taxis, and carriages. The seasons shift before my eyes like an illusion. I have learned this route with my body. Now I know every hostel and every inn, every restaurant and buffet, the vehicles that bring you to the remotest corners.The writer, Erwin Siegelbaum, as we shall later discover, travels the rails obsessively. He is more at home in railroad dining cars (where he bribes the waiters to put on classical music) or in station buffets, than in his own home, wherever that may be. The station settings and night journeys reminded me at first of the opening chapter of Italo Calvino's If on a Winter's Night a Traveler, and that strange dreamlike atmosphere remains to some extent throughout. But bit by bit, the scale of the book shrinks. So far from the long international train journeys from Naples to points north, it appears that Erwin is pottering around rural Austria, traveling between villages (all made up, I think) so small that you could hardly imagine them having stations, let alone service by trains with dining cars. Towards the end, a journey of a mere 100 kilometers gets interrupted three or four times, as he stops off at yet one more familiar village or inn. It is like Zeno's Paradox, where the distance is always halved, but the goal remains elusive.