Bronstein is kind of a crap detective... I was getting angry with him for not remembering certain clues, not following up on witness statements, generally bumbling around... but that is part of the point here. Once I got past the brutal opening chapter, I was completely fascinated with this book, its characters and of course 1934 Vienna. The Jewish stuff was right on; Bronstein is an assimilated Viennese who is constantly reminded of his Jewish background: Antisemites, actual Nazis, and other Jews all take shots at him so that he begins to be paranoid about it; not sure if people are being antisemitic or not. I can relate to that. There is also a fun Czech language moment in here, alongside the steady stream of Wienerisch and occasional Yiddish. Despite all the idioms, I read this quickly and it so occupied me that I stopped reading everything else. I was a bit uncomfortable with the female characters, but we are seeing the story through Bronstein's mind and he is clearly a schmuck, so of course the women all come across, like I said, uncomfortably. Violence and sex is described in excruciating detail, and I actually prefer 'sweet' to 'spicy.' But... so great... how can I not fall in love with a book about a Jewish detective catching Nazis in 1934 Vienna? It's like it was written for me.