Extinction: A Novel (Vintage International)

Is there a word in German that signifies "Bernhardism" or, more to the point, "Bernhardists"? I ask because all the other reviewers seem to belong to this camp; most seem to be fluent in German and, indeed, to have more or less memorised his entire corpus of works. This book is my first exposure to this great Bernhard, and I have a few caveats for the neophyte reader of him:* Beware of him if you suffer from chronic depression* Beware of him if you absolutely love cameras and photography* Beware of him if you are Catholic and attend mass and go to confession* Beware of him if you have any sort of sentimental attachment to Austria, or anywhere in Central Europe* Beware of him if you think Nazi uniforms look "cool"* Beware of him if you think that German literature is the ne plus ultra of modern endeavours* Beware of him if you are "family-oriented"* Beware of him if you take everything seriouslyThe last, of course, is the only credible caveat. The exaggerated spleen and diatribe on display here borders on the ridiculous so often, that it is really impossible not to laugh, all the while knowing that there exists at least a crumb of existential truth in each sentence of this extended rant.Bernhard or the narrator "Murau" or however you wish to parse it remarks herein at one point, "Without the art of exaggeration, I told him (his pupil Gambetti), we'd be condemned to an awfully tedious life, a life not worth living."And, indeed, without the dark humour the book would be pitch-black unreadable. For the sake of brevity, I'll mention the character Spadolini, as a sort of synecdoche of everything with which the narrator is absorbed and obsessed: Spadolini, that elegant, worldly Roman Nuncio who's been having it off with the narrator's mother for years. Of him, our narrator says:"Yet although everything Spadolini said about my father is wrong, I thought, it has an air of authenticity. We often hear the most arrant nonsense spoken about someone, downright lies and falsehoods, but accept it as the unadulterated truth because it is uttered by someone whose words carry conviction."It is the comforting verbiage of a Spadolini about our families, our lives, our deaths, and our ulterior motives that Bernhard, successfully it seems to me, pours venom on here. Yet, he remarks earlier that this same Spadolini is the most capital sort of fellow, who made life liveable for him in Rome, who showed him around, made introductions on his behalf, who acquired his pupil Gambetti for him.So, there is actually a deep ambiguity about the world underlying the spleen on superficial display. I would argue that it is this undertow of underlying ambiguity which makes the book such a deeply unsettling, important one to read.

Please do not let yourself be put off by the dark seriousness implied by the combination of a title like "Extinction", a German-language writer and themes that touch on the meaning of life, family, the Holocaust.....This is an enormously readable and most of all fun and funny book. Of course it is also deep and crazy and the fun is on the surface. But if you are the kind of reader who finds most novels unfulfilling, i.e., "why should I read about things that never happened to people who never existed?" -- try this one. It's got an (un)reliable narrator who delivers an unforgettable 250 page soliloquy to rank with Shakespeare's characters and Proust's. Imagine sitting at a cafe with Nietzsche one night in Turin or Basel and listening to him for 6 hours.... It's W. G. Sebald amped up several notches in passion and weirdness and sincerity.

"Extinction" is the story of Franz-Josef Murau, a wealthy Austrian gentleman living in Rome as a private tutor in German literature. His tastes run to the esoteric and philosophical, and his relationship with his student, Gambetti, is intellectually mutual. He has just returned to Rome from the wedding of his younger sister, Caecilia, to an "obese wine cork manufacturer," held at the family estate in Austria, called Wolfsegg. At the wedding were his parents, older brother Johannes, and his other younger sister, Amelia.He receives a telegram in Rome: "Parents and Johannes killed in accident." For the first half of this 320-page book (each half being one unbroken paragraph!), he describes his life, and his narration becomes a deep reflection on his childhood and life to date. He delivers a marvelous psychological portrait of himself, as well as the family members who have just died, and his long-dead Uncle Georg, whom he remembers with great fondness. He hates his family deeply, and the feeling is mutual. He is a philosopher, they are down to earth. He is an aesthete, but they are simple folks. He is a scholar, but they are hunters and farmers, despite their fantastic wealth and their prosperous family estate. Only Uncle George understood him, artistic, free-spirited, and educated. Franz-Josef reflects passionately on his current situation, and tells us many stories of himself and his family.For the second half of the book, he describes the funeral at Wolfsegg. Lacking parents and older siblings, he is now the master of the estate. His sisters look to him for leadership. He must now decide what to do with the estate. Will he move back to Wolfsegg in Austria, a land he loves, but an estate he hates? Will he pass it to his sisters and remain in Rome, a city he cherishes more than any other? Bernhard will stun the reader with the beauty of the resolution, but will do it in his own literary fashion.During the story, we learn Franz-Josef disdains Catholicism and National Socialism (i.e., Nazism) in equal parts. His mother had been having an affair with a Catholic Archbishop in Rome, a relationship which was supposedly secret, but which all her children seem to know of. The Archbishop is a close family friend, and will certainly visit the estate for the funeral. His father had many Nazi friends, unbelievably still openly Nazi all these years after the war. He tells us of the fun times he enjoyed playing at his estate's Children's Villa, and how disappointed he was when it was shuttered. He vows to open and restore it when he is master. He tells us of the five libraries---five!---scattered about the estate, similarly shuttered up, collecting dust despite a half-dozen generations' worth of valuable books stored within. He tells us childhood stories of his parents, his brother, and his sister, all disdainful, and heaps contempt upon his brother-in-law, whose name he cannot even bring himself to utter, in generous proportions. At one point, he bathes in his father's bath, and wears some of his clothes. Is this a metaphor for his feelings? We learn that he blames his father only for being such a simple man, but hates his mother passionately, for dragging his father into the mud.We struggle with the idea that this is an unreliable narrator, and we are only hearing one side of a two-sided story, but unlike Italo Svevo's masterpiece, "Confessions of Zeno", it is clear that despite this narrator's one-sided story, there is no reason to disbelieve him. He is as critical of himself as of others, and he demonstrates the pettiness and crudeness of his family in many different ways. We trust him, not only because he is self-critical, but because despite his self-confidence, he is not a fool. We also learn some untoward truths about his family, and a few hidden secrets, which cannot be dismissed, even from the most unreliable narrator. His angst comes from a simple sentiment, expressed early on: "I can't abolish my family just because I want to." He struggles to resolve the question of extinction: Must he extinguish himself to satisfy his family? Must his family be extinguished to satisfy himself?Finally, after a rollicking narration of heartfelt emotions and deeply-help philosophies, Bernhard's narrator demonstrates how he chooses to reconcile his thoughts and feelings, his inheritance and his sisters, his legacy and his future, and all the elements demonstrated through the length of the novel braid together like a jewel. Bernhard's prose is difficult for those unfamiliar with experimental or cutting-edge literature, but actually not very difficult once one tries. Curious readers will greatly enjoy engaging their mind with this book. If they wish to sample a smaller work before digging into this one, Bernhard's "Yes" is another masterpiece of style and depth. Both are rewarding, brilliant works from a literary master.

I just want to warn you that the paperback version shown here has a very small print. It was too small for me to read comfortably, so I am donating it to the public library.

This book is about a man obsessively describing his family, who he hates. But he also loves them, in a way.Any time the narrator gives an opinion, you have to weigh it against the conflicting opinions about the same thing. He loves his childhood home, but he hates it.Its repetitive, and rhythmic, and it's just this author's style. I love it and find it funny now, but it took me a while to warm up to Bernhard. It took about 3 of his books for me to "get" it.

This is a curiously satisfying read. Franz Josef. Born rich. Unwanted child. Intellectual and artistic in a family of philistines. Suddenly called back from his home in Rome to the family estate in Austria in the wake of a tragic accident. Two sections. Two paragraphs. A lot to think about. I won’t bang on about the details, as other reviewers here have covered this.

Leitura incrível. Narrativa de tirar o fôlego embora não seja fácil à primeira vista. Mas tem passagens que ficam na memória.

This book was listed in the top 10 funniest books somewhere that I looked (maybe that was the joke, I'm not sure), and maybe it IS funny compared to other Austrian authors, but it didn't even make me smile, let alone laugh. It's hard work, the writing style is elementary (misquoted as 'seamless' due to it being one paragraph from beginning to end), and it's a story about a spoilt, over indulged, whining, upper class, tosspot that needs a good kick in the arse rather than an audience for his diatribe. A lot of folk seem to consider it a 'masterpiece' but, imho, I think they're just trying to set themselves above and apart from your average book reader just so that they can appear to be more literate and learned. I got two thirds of the way through the book and then abandoned it (something I've NEVER done before in my life) in favour of a book about the battle of Stalingrad, which is much more lighthearted. Honestly! Reading the bible from beginning to end would appeal to me more than having another go at ANY of his books.

A steamroller of invective ostensibly highly critical of Austrians in general. But as the narrator's rants go on (and on), a more subtle picture is built up - the main character is himself an Austrian, and his criticisms therefore have an element of self-laceration, while the family estate, which can be seen to represent the country, employs not only huntsmen (Nazi types) but also gardeners (nurturers), with whom he empathises. The text rambles (in a good sense) as it takes its path through the character's thoughts, following his, sometimes contradictory, arguments. Beautifully written, very readable, a wonderful book.