I was disappointed by Krasznahorkai's Seiobo, and a little concerned that my disappointment was actually exhaustion, either my own with him, or him with his style. But The World was far more enjoyable--perhaps not as 'great,' but much better. For a start, many of the pieces avoid the unnecessary single-sentenceness that marred Seibo; in that book, the sentences were less intriguing and fascinating than mildly dull. The same goes here for the stories that feature it, but as with any literary style, it reads better when surrounded by different styles. The same goes for the form of the pieces; there's much more variation here, with some pensees, some very short fictions, some longer stories (as in the previous volume), some shorter. And there's a very good Elizabeth Costello meets something much better than Elizabeth Costello piece, in which Krasznahorkai thinks over his previous work, and wonders if it was all that good. It was, but he's not satisfied. This is as it should be.

Another reviewer, who has my utmost respect, expressed his dislike of 'That Gagarin.' I actually thought it was very interesting: an interpretation of a photograph of Gagarin. That's a literary form I'd like to see more of, whether in Krasznahorkai or others.

Otherwise, it has the intelligence and dark irony you expect. I grew frustrated by the footloose globe-trotting (stories are narrated in Shanghai, Portugal, Ukraine, India, Italy, Russia, and Turkey); on the other hand, if I was Krasznahorkai, I'd be pretty happy to spend as much time outside Hungary as I could right now. ( )