Just finished reading Thomas Bernhard's _The Woodcutters_

And let me tell you, it was super weird. The whole thing is two big paragraphs. It's all told as the ramblings of a guy sitting in a chair at a party, reflecting on the artistic culture of Vienna and his estrangement from it. Very interesting. I thought that the form gave it a kind of pressured quality that suited the content. See, now some people would…