This is an extremely moving book, the emotion heightened by the blunt cynicism of the narrator, which Tokkarczuk masterfully unpeels as the novel wears on, to show us a vulnerable heart. The book is funny when it needs to be funny, and always slightly knowing, and yet so full of love and empathy that the slow reveal is something you sadly know to be true, rather than are shocked by. And lest this seem to depressing, Tokarzuk serves us up a final full of mercy and a good dash of hope - as happy as a book this sharp could be.
And yet, despite this very specific story, it is a book with a huge amount to say about what it is to love, on a personal and a societal level, and what we can move past and what we can't. This isn't a story of who we should be, but it is a story of perhaps who we are.