Austerlitz by W.G. Sebald

To be honest, I must confess that I was powerfully tempted to pretend that I loved this book, because it is universally considered by the intelligentsia to be a masterpiece, and to admit that I found it pointless and tedious is to acknowledge that my intellect is...less than stellar, shall we say. But what the heck, I'll tell the truth. This went right over my head. For the most part.

The plot, sketchy as it is, concerns the memories of the main character, Austerlitz, as related bit by bit by him to an unnamed narrator who happens to meet up with him from time to time in various European cities. As a small child, Austerlitz had been sent to be fostered by an austere and emotionally distant Welsh couple. While always feeling misplaced and rootless, he nevertheless avoids trying to discover his origins for most of his life. When he finally discovers that he was a Jewish child sent from Czechoslovakia to escape the Holocaust which consumed his parents, the revelation causes him to suffer a psychological breakdown.

The actual story elements actually take up very little of the 300 pages of the book. There is much description and discussion about architecture and various specific buildings. There are many observations about time and history. There are many black and white photos, mainly of architectural details. But the point of all this is where the book lost me, or maybe where I lost the point of the book.

I will say that the writing style kept me reading, as it was rather hypnotic and dreamlike.

This is probably, most likely, surely a very important and meaningful novel. Too bad I wasn't up to it.