All that remains is protest, enfeebled by abject fear, which soon, for want of words, will turn to speechless dread, because, in the face of the void, all sounds will have lost their meaning.

I read these quickly, impressed with the homage to Doblin and the grasp of Kafka through the lens of the late 20C. The pieces about politics and proverbial third paths between the superpowers are more problematic. One thinks of Grass' late revelations. One thinks of humility and human folly. I think of our crises. I do know that Herr Grass was a good man. ( )