Being a Hungarian myself, one may find it odd that I am reading a book by a Hungarian author in English.

Firstly, I hardly read anything in Hungarian these days (shame on me), and secondly, I am a huge admirer of literary translators, and if there's a big name amongst English translators of Hungarian prose and poetry then Ottilie Mulzet is one. So, forgive my boldness, Mr Schein, I have picked up your book because of Ms Mulzet.

This is not my usual genre, so I had expected this to be a long and somewhat boring reading journey, but it was not! Hence the four stars. Apart from some Goethe-like contemplation here and there, I found the two stories interesting even if I am not taking too much of them with me. The Translator's Notes at the end of the book comes really handy for those not familiar with the historical and cultural background.

Thank you NetGalley and Yale University Press for this Advance Review Copy.

I’m the first person to write an actual review (words and all) for this book and I wish I had nicer things to say about it. It sounded interesting, WWII and its aftermath usually make for good dramatic stories, and it was good as far as international reading goes. Alas, it just really didn’t work for me.
And it was one of those things when you can tell from the first few pages but then go on hoping it’ll somehow magically become a book you wished it was and not the book it is.
What this book is…is a dense stream of consciousness like narrative for its entire duration with scarcely a line of dialogue to balance it out. It’s essentially the book that overnarrates itself into near unreadability. Which is kind of frustrating because on individual basis the sentences are fine, quite good at times, even, but the sum total is just a stew too heavy to stir. Or a mud too dense to wade through. Or whatever metaphor you want to go with.
It didn’t help that the ARC offered through Netgalley had one of those things where it omitted F and F adjacent letters, but either way, the book didn’t wow, didn’t even come close.
It was a typical university press publication. Serious, heavy, arty in an exclusive ponderous way.
Overall, a disappointment, albeit a very quick read. Thanks Netgalley.

In general, I like fiction that is conceptually challenging, but I found Autobiographies of an Angel overwhelming. It was a very slow read for me—yet one I had difficulty putting down for fear of forgetting something essential before picking it up again. The ideas it's exploring are immensely important to me, but that exploration was too opaque for me.