This brief novel, by a writer that was once very famous in Germany (Thomas Mann revered her), but who seems to have been ignored everywhere else, is a stunner. Brilliantly evocative, incredibly tense (sometimes in an almost hitchcockian way), wonderfully atmospheric, it owes something to Chekhov, but a review also mentions director Ingmar Bergman, and that sounds quite right, too. I also thought a lot about the great novellas of Eduard von Keyserling, that share with this story a sense of ineluctability that is masterfully conducted. The narration is deceptively simple: in pre-revolutionary Russia, a charismatic young man, who intends to murder a governor who embodies, in his eyes, a regime he hates, becomes the personal secretary of his intended victim, and, soon, he has everybody in the family charmed by his intelligence and persona. But he, too, is under the charms of this family. Will he follow through? That is the line of tension that keeps the reader beguiled and on edge till the very, very last word - and that ending, I have to say, is quite a shock. The novel consists of letters that the young man, and all members of the family, write during the course of the fateful summer they spend in the estate where most of the action is centered: by doing this, Huch cleverly goes straight into the heart of her characters and of how they see (and don’t see) what is happening, without having to burden her story with descriptive passages, and heavy-handed explanations. It is adroitly full of ellipses and untold emotions that swim under the surface, it is as incisive as it is elusive. It’s also heartbreaking, and it burns like a hot Summer sun. Huch deserves to be recognized as one of the greats.