Swiss enfant terrible Christian Kracht writes a short book about taking a trip with his aging alcoholic mother. The narrative is sprinkled with mostly ironic (and sometimes funny) comments on contemporary culture, and lots and lots of references to expensive goods, literature, David Bowie and also Kracht’s own literary career. I wouldn’t hesitate to call this an instance of autofiction, which is what seems to be the most viable and reward-for-effort-intensive form of literature nowadays. Readers want to read a story, and also want some gossip about the writer. Writers don’t have to try as hard writing this kind of autobiographical life writing compared to traditional novels, and they get the added bonus of getting some spin to their “personal brand”.
Kracht does craft funny sentences, and has a knack for the absurd humor. It is sometimes too based in a rich, Switzerland-based world for my tastes, however. He also has a tendency to include gross and disgusting details in his stories. I learned this from reading his Imperium (2012) which included a protagonist who ate his own scabs (highly unpleasant). That might be just part of his whole épater-le-boozwazee shtick.
I suspect that the story is really about himself trying to make peace with his family history. He sometimes writes his mother’s lines in his own voice, which is probably meant as a clue.
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Kinship of all Species 