This is a magnificent portrayal of Peter Handke’s mother whose suicide raises many questions of her despondent outlook on life. His visions of finding the mystery are sculpted with at most precinct amid this faded world. Every word of his mother pierces the fainted-heart and flashes the fate of a purposeless existence with agonizing attributes. In all of this Handke’s revelation about his mothers keen on reading books evokes necessary muse. I feel sorry for those who had to face the wrath of Nazi political party and make sense of how this could have impacted normal lives of certain people. Totally dashed by the author for his true insights and writings which could have been buried, forgotten if not for his efforts to bring it up. It deserves more applause, standing ovation and many recognition to reach wider audiences, this is what I honestly hope for this confounding book.
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