The Play of the Eyes, by Elias Canetti

The third part of Elias Canetti's memoirs is as interesting as the first two. He's in a way extremely self-centered and self-assured, but his pursue of self-awareness, his staunch devotion to language and words, and above all his keen sense of observation, that translates into fabulous portraits and a vivid depiction of a time and place - the Vienna of literatti in the 30s - is most captivating. I read it with a feeling of discovery, because I know very little of German literature, apart from Thomas Mann; Hermann Broch, Robert Musil and Büchner were just names, as were Grozs, Alma Mahler or Wotruba. It's exciting to learn about a whole body of literature just waiting to be read! That's one of the things I always loved about books and reading: the opening of new horizons, new cultures, new people. One goes from one book to another, and it never ever ends, even if one was to live a thousand years.