I first read this in '93 after seeing a production at NYU and being intrigued by the story, characters, and language of the world. Just reread it (2008) and it only gets better; Santouche's anger at the world seems justified, being tied to the anger of the world, and the idea that violence begets violence rarely comes across more strongly than in this piece (maybe the Oresteia outshines it, barely). There is something akin to the more miserable worlds evoked by Brecht in, say, Mother Courage or Arturo Ui here...