773. Extinction

Extinction
Thomas Bernhard
1986
Around 325 pages

Every time we've had a Thomas Bernhard novel on this List, I've thought "oh, there's still another one?" Well, we've finally reached his final entry. Here's my official ranking of this cranky bastard.

1. Concrete

2. Wittgenstein's Nephew

3. Correction

4. Old Masters

5. Yes

6. Extinction

As you can see, this is the bottom of the List, which might be because of Bernhard fatigue. 

Franz-Josef Murau is the intellectual black sheep of a powerful Austrian land-owning family. Murau lives in Rome in self-exile, obsessed and angry with his identity as an Austrian, and resolves never to return to Wolfsegg, the family estate. When he hears of his parents' deaths, he finds himself master of Wolfsegg and must decide its fate.

Man, Bernhard is not happy to be Austrian. And he's made that abundantly clear in all his novels. He's kind of a Negative Nancy in general, so a little of him goes a long way. Of course, I can be a Negative Nancy too, but I don't share the same contempt for art. 

Definitely belongs on Bernhard's B-side.

RATING: **---

Interesting Facts:

Bernhard never met his father.

UP NEXT: An Artist of the Floating World by Kazuo Ishiguro

756. Old Masters

Old Masters
Thomas Bernhard
1985
Around 310 pages

Oh, it's you again. That's been my reaction to every Thomas Bernhard novel on the List. They are not terrible, just pessimistic, and I feel like all of his entries are retreads of the same theme. Of course, they are much more menacing authors on this List, so I won't complain too much. 

This time, the cranky old guy at the center of the novel is 82-year-old music critic named Reger.  For over thirty years, he has sat on the same bench in front of Tintoretto's White-bearded Man in the Bordone Room of the Kunsthistorisches Museum for four or five hours every other day. The book is narrated by Atzbacher, who encounters Reger in the museum. 

I feel like Bill Murray could star in a dreary movie adaptation of this work. Bernhard's characters tend to eschew society and have contempt for everyone. This one seemed a little more hopeful than his other works. Even if everything else fails us in life, it's always fun to hate watch things with friends. That's what I got out of it anyway.

RATING: **---

Interesting Facts:

Bernhard's home is now a museum.

UP NEXT: Reasons to Live by Amy Hempel

729. Wittgenstein's Nephew

Wittgenstein's Nephew
Thomas Bernhard
1982
Around 100 pages

I actually had to fork over some money to track this one down. Usually I'm savvy (i.e. cheap) enough to find a free copy. It's always the German novels that cause me issues, the troublemakers. Anyway, this was like the continuation of Concrete, but I'm not complaining. Thomas Bernhard is, though.

This is a largely autobiographical work, as our narrator has the same chronic lung disease that Bernhard suffered from. And like Bernhard, he befriends Paul Wittgenstein, the nephew of philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein. Paul is being treated for an unnamed mental illness at the same time that our narrator is hospitalized for his lung ailment. 

This is a very short novel that I enjoyed quite a bit. Once again, Bernhard is relatable in his observations of being an invalid and the relationship between the sick and the healthy. And he rips apart Austrian high society, which is fun. 

RATING: ****-

Interesting Facts:

Title is a reference to Diderot's Rameau's Nephew.

UP NEXT: The Color Purple by Alice Walker

721. Concrete

Concrete
Thomas Bernhard
1982

Around 160 pages

In Samuel Beckett's hands, I might have been repulsed by what is essential a 160 page monologue with no separate paragraphs. But there was something about Bernhard's dark humor that really worked for me. I also like it when our narrator waxes poetic about a physical ailment. There's a lot of drama just in the functions of a human being.

Our delightfully introspective narrator Rudolf is a Viennese musicologist with sarcoidosis. If that doesn't push all the right buttons for you, I'm not sure what would. I find it amusing when characters go on long rants about a litany of complaints, especially on something as relatable as writer's block. There is a lot to complain about on this planet, and people who "can't complain" are just uninspired.

It was also entertaining how much he hated his sister, and led to some laugh out loud moments for me. Thomas Bernhard, you are working your way into my shriveled heart.

RATING: ****-

Interesting Facts:

New edition was published in 2012.

UP NEXT: July's People by Nadine Gordimer

699. Yes

Yes
Thomas Bernhard
1978

Around 140 pages

Only one more novel until we reach 700! I'm also pumped to finish up the 70s. It's been a weird decade.

The opening sentence of Yes is 477 words long, which is certainly less memorable than "Call me Ishmael." Our narrator is a scientist working on antibodies. He meets a Persian woman at an office in rural Austria. His long talks with the woman give him meaning, but they both still want to kill themselves because it's a Bernhard novel.

Well, this certainly wouldn't be my book of choice if I was trying to read myself off the ledge. I guess there's a slight controversy if Bernhard chose doctor assisted suicide, or died by heart attack. I wouldn't be surprised if he had died by suicide, with the way he writes about it here. 

We still have a few Bernhards on the List, so he will have even more time to bum us out.

RATING: **---

Interesting Facts:

Often criticized in Austria as a Nestbeschmutzer (one who dirties his own nest) for his critical views, Bernhard was highly acclaimed in other countries.

UP NEXT: The Cement Garden by Ian McEwan

674. Correction

Correction
Thomas Bernhard
1975
Around 260 pages

This is a lot of post modernism to cope with at once. Can't we get a bit of a break, at least before we have to deal with Dead Babies? 

Unfortunately, the List has denied my request, so we get this. Roithamer is a philosopher who has obsessed with constructing a conelike habitation for his sister. This isn't my first Bernhard, and let me tell you, the guy had more sister issues than Nabokov. 

The point of view was interesting, but doesn't it feel like we have had hundreds of novels detailing a mental breakdown? It's an intentionally claustrophobic work, given, you know, the Cone. So more readable than other post modernists, but still a bit of a slog.

Sorry for the crankiness for the post. My throat is sore and I don't have ice cream, and I can't take this many cone related disappointments.

RATING: **---

Interesting Facts:

His will forbade any of his works from being published in Austria.

UP NEXT: Dead Babies by Martin Amis