EUROTRASH

The belated second installment of the Swiss novelist’s semiautobiographical remembrance of his wealthy family’s Nazi-stained past.

In Kracht’s Faserland (1995), the young author of a novel with that title wandered across Europe, kissing off the 1980s with his aimlessness and addictions. Picking up where that book left off, Kracht’s sequel begins in Zurich, where the fictional novelist, Christian, goes to care for his 80-year-old mother, newly released from a mental institution. Subsisting on vodka and barbiturates, she is, “like Miss Havisham, caught in a spider web of resentment, fury, and loneliness.” So, in his cynical fashion, is Christian, still grappling with childhood abuses. His mother’s malicious bag of tricks included feigning death on the laundry room floor. When not dancing to Dietrich in women’s clothing, his father lived to torment and debase others. And Christian’s maternal grandfather was an active Nazi sympathizer. Christian, who loves his mother despite everything, decides to take her on a long road trip in a hired car before putting her back in the mental hospital. During the journey, we learn that he wore makeup from the age of 13 to 27, wishes he had David Bowie’s crooked teeth, and prefers spy thrillers to the intellectual classics his mother tries to force on him. He uses the trip to give away her vast savings, “money we had swindled from arms factories,” and she hopes to see an edelweiss flower for the first time. A leading figure in European postmodernism, the 57-year-old Kracht offsets Christian’s rock-generation disillusionment with charged language. As entertaining as that is, this novel feels incomplete. It needs to be read with its short predecessor—and its possible successor(s)—to achieve lasting power.

Set largely during a long car trip, a mother-and-son novel with compelling psychological gear shifts but not enough traction.