Insanely funny read, practically impossible to put down. When you hear about Bernhardt you get the impression of a kind of haggard old man yelling from his chalet up in the the Austrian countryside, constantly shouting about the sins of his country or what have you, and he is that, but he's funny in the way a person who you can tell for as much as they are outwardly hateful they really are twice as much furious in their introspection on their own failings. The book flows in a weird dreamlike state, never quite pauses so the entire books feels like on giant run on sentence of a miserable guy reminiscing when he was somebody at the inn. Turned into a Bernhardt fan on this one, can't wait to read more.