The book opens with the un-named narrator
arriving in an obscure Eastern European city to flat-sit for his old university
friend, now classical musician, Oskar.
Oskar’s compulsion for neatness and order,
illustrated by his minimalist composition ‘Variations on Tram Timetables’ finds
expression in his stylish flat. To ensure it is looked after he has left
detailed written instructions for its care, many out of sight but strategically
placed in anticipation of need at some juncture. Care of the pristine wooden
floors is particularly urged.
The temporary custodian is at first amused,
but then irritated by Oskar’s ability to second-guess his every move; after all
he can surely be trusted to look after a flat for a week or two, even one with
wooden floors, a leather sofa, grand piano and two cats. There is even a
cleaner who calls twice a week.
In fact it is an opportunity to prove that
his personal disorganised lifestyle is due to circumstance not nature. But no:
he asserts his capacity for independent thought, ignores some apparently
over-prescriptive notes, and the first minor mishap occurs.
Order is a fragile, unstable state of being.
Once upset, attempts to restore it can be counter-productive (in life as well
as in flats). As his eight-day stay proceeds the various components – floor,
sofa, piano, cats and even the cleaner – are at increasing risk, not to mention
the narrator himself, the unwilling agent of entropy.
The novel unfolds beautifully from early
philosophical musings, through awkward social interactions, to frantic farce.
All related with the same detached, elegant prose shot through with descriptions
and metaphors that drip originality and wit.
A read that starts intriguingly and just
gets better and better.
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