If there is disappointment it's because I hold all Zweig's works in such high regard, I had hope of this, his one novel, being his opus. Instead it is just another of his great works.

I love a novel that has me switching from relating to a character, to finding him the most pathetic person imaginable, to finding that relatable too, to finally his being too much for anyone to relate to. The subject matter is classic Zweig, a humanist look at the complex and often contradictory nature of pity, how a seemingly positive emotion can easily ruin the lives of the people it's meant to be helping. With all the events started by the most insignificant yet understandable social faux pas.

I think the story as a whole could've either been shortened or stayed that length but had the length justified with a little more depth - I would've been happy with the latter for his one and only novel.