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kathryn51's review against another edition
Unpleasantly pedantic. How can anyone write a sentence that goes on for 6+ pages? (I respect it, though; I'd do the same if I were an eccentric yet 'profound' author.)
rumetzen's review against another edition
challenging
dark
funny
mysterious
reflective
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
angeladobre's review against another edition
4.0
https://booknation.ro/recenzie-intoarcerea-acasa-a-baronului-wenckheim-de-laszlo-krasznahorkai/
andrewmerritt00's review against another edition
5.0
Full of the dark comedy and looming sense of death and despair signature to LK’s work, as well as the continued examination of the infinite. Krasznahorkai’s funniest, and possibly darkest work, Homecoming is an masterful completion of his apocalyptic symphony.
ube_cake's review against another edition
5.0
“(…) in brief no matter how he attempted to connect with the world, this attempt ended in failure, and from this point on every kind of absurdity began to seem possible(…)”
The novel starts off as this absurd mockumentary whose mood builds up and up to the skies, ecstasy bordering on derangement, as the residents of a small Hungarian city awaits for their supposed messiah: the titular Baron Béla Wenckheim—only for it to violently implode in bleak Krasznahorkian fashion.
What else would one expect from the Master of Apocalyptic.
Political intrigue, romance, dark wit, crime fiction, commentaries on fascism, capitalism, modern decay, and nationalism (reminiscent of the Case Reports of Sátántangó)—Krasznahorkai goes all out and lives up to the Maximalism ideal. The cacophonous prose itself may pose a challenge, re: sentences that stretch on for multiple pages—however, they read just fine, like transcripts of everyday speech, or a friend passionately retelling a story in a catch-up. The little nuggets of aphorisms, nestled deep in decay and sludge, were few and far between. They do exist, and they still pack a punch.
I tried to make sense of the book’s central meditation on the infinite but alas failed—but the opacity of the text is somewhat expected. Some part of me thinks of it being the raison d’être of the quartet of books that make up Krasznahorkai’s Über-novel and, at the moment, I’ve only read its bookends.
As for the ending… (mild spoilers)
It’s the literary equivalent of: “questioning your life choices as you stare at your reflection through the tv screen, the credits rolling in the background”.
Reading a litany of lost people is always a heavy experience.
—
In brief, a literary experience like none other.
Istg, if Krasznahorkai doesn’t get a Nobel Prize for Literature within his lifetime—I would have to intervene.
P.S.: Sending love to the novel’s translator Ottilie Mulzet for her feat of brilliant virtuosity here and the people over at New Directions for always introducing new voices to the Anglophone world.
The novel starts off as this absurd mockumentary whose mood builds up and up to the skies, ecstasy bordering on derangement, as the residents of a small Hungarian city awaits for their supposed messiah: the titular Baron Béla Wenckheim—only for it to violently implode in bleak Krasznahorkian fashion.
What else would one expect from the Master of Apocalyptic.
Political intrigue, romance, dark wit, crime fiction, commentaries on fascism, capitalism, modern decay, and nationalism (reminiscent of the Case Reports of Sátántangó)—Krasznahorkai goes all out and lives up to the Maximalism ideal. The cacophonous prose itself may pose a challenge, re: sentences that stretch on for multiple pages—however, they read just fine, like transcripts of everyday speech, or a friend passionately retelling a story in a catch-up. The little nuggets of aphorisms, nestled deep in decay and sludge, were few and far between. They do exist, and they still pack a punch.
I tried to make sense of the book’s central meditation on the infinite but alas failed—but the opacity of the text is somewhat expected. Some part of me thinks of it being the raison d’être of the quartet of books that make up Krasznahorkai’s Über-novel and, at the moment, I’ve only read its bookends.
As for the ending… (mild spoilers)
It’s the literary equivalent of: “questioning your life choices as you stare at your reflection through the tv screen, the credits rolling in the background”.
Reading a litany of lost people is always a heavy experience.
—
In brief, a literary experience like none other.
Istg, if Krasznahorkai doesn’t get a Nobel Prize for Literature within his lifetime—I would have to intervene.
P.S.: Sending love to the novel’s translator Ottilie Mulzet for her feat of brilliant virtuosity here and the people over at New Directions for always introducing new voices to the Anglophone world.
freewaygods's review against another edition
challenging
dark
mysterious
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
sortulv's review against another edition
challenging
dark
funny
mysterious
reflective
tense
slow-paced
4.5
ciarafrances's review against another edition
challenging
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.5
jonathanvdh's review
5.0
Als er een boek is wat mijn geloof in de kracht van fictie de aflopen tijd heeft aangewakkerd, dan is het dit boek wel. Absoluut niet gemakkelijk, maar een ongekend leesfestijn. Wat een majestueus gecomponeerde symfonie. Wat een krankzinnige, absurde en in en in grappige rollercoasterride. Wat kleurrijke parade van kolderieke en theatrale personages. Wat een intrigerende vermenging van heden, verleden (en toekomst?) Wat een messcherpe ontleding van de Hongaarse (lees menselijke) ziel. Dikke props voor Mari Alföldy voor het ongelofelijke vertaalwerk. Kan iemand dit even op het nachtkastje van Yorgos Lanthimos of Wes Anderson leggen. Kan niet wachten op de verfilming