What a fucking good sad/funny little book!!! Edward Saxberger, a man in the mid-autumn of life, arrives home from the office one evening to find a young poet at his door. The poetry collection he published as a youth has been met with considerable acclaim amongst the young poets' circle, and Edward S. rediscovers his artistic proclivities - and his artistic ego - as he's drawn into the milieu of young artists and thinkers, all of whom worship him. Funny because Schnitzler is relentless about puncturing the artistic pretensions of his characters (the circle was apparently based on the collective Schnitzler was himself a part of), tragic because Saxberger doesn't know how to explain getting older, getting a job, and losing interest in poetry to these bright young things. Despite Schnitzler's joyous savagery (that last twist!! haha), I essentially felt this was a kind-hearted tale that set Saxberger down quite gently where he began. A great introduction to Schnitzler's work.