Phillips wears a little Kundera on his sleeve, perhaps specifically Life is Elsewhere. Though I haven’t read it myself, the title could easily be transposed to this story of a band of young North American expats who end up in Budapest for a variety of reasons, one of them hoping his Hungarian roots will bring him success in post-Communist Hungary and at least one other thinking for sure the real excitement is in Prague. Partway through there’s a digression that manages to convey Hungary’s history from the early 1800s to the 1990s through a family-owned printing press, which sets up the remainder of the story, meadering away from the early carefree chapters of the first section into plodding ennui and final disenchantment. By the end you’ll be as wistful as the academic nostalgist who believes he can research a daisy-chain of longing, going back daily:

Today, somebody longs for yesterday and they are leaving steaming evidence of their sadness and I can prove it, but yesterday there was somebody who was sure happiness ended the day before. I can go all the way to Jesus Christ and keep going. It’s going to take research, I admit that, but this is there.

Maybe you’ll yearn to feel so unsatisfied in an unfamiliar place or at least wish you’d visited Budapest instead of Prague.

I always forget to add the various books that come my way that aren’t actually books that I read, but most likely hold court on the coffeetable or a prominent location on a bookshelf. Melanie brought me this one from Austria, and it documents Vienna’s incredible old signage, in alphabetical order of the business names. Most of these were designed by master signmakers who, as is often the case, weren’t necessarily typographers. So the letterforms are pleasingly unique and with anachronistic combinations. This definitely made me wish I had taken more pictures of signs while I was over there, though I did get a few. Hopefully they won’t all be gone when I get myself back to Vienna someday.

There is a foreword and an essay at the back that I would read if I knew German!

I probably read more reviews of this book before starting it than I should have, as the reactions were mixed and some went into too much depth, so at times I was expecting something a little different. But ultimately I enjoyed this story of a middle-aged psychiatrist who believes that his wife has been replaced by an imposter and goes on intercontinental hunt for her. While it might seem like a straight-up, first person narration, I do think some suspension of reality is necessary to appreciate it.

The one response worth reading beforehand is Kat’s at No Good for Me, as I think she summed up well what to expect, especially this part:

This is a curious book in that it’s about intimacy, but not really about "relationships" as we know them in the modern sense - in fact, one can argue that Leo seems to have spent much of his relationship with Rema prior to her "disappearance" not quite relating to her or even understanding her much. The story’s heart is really about the idea of the beloved - about having the biggest source of mystery in your life be in the closest proximity to you, about realizing the person you love most is a foreign land, with a language, history and customs that are nothing like your own. No matter how far you travel, you’ll never quite penetrate into its inner workings or secrets or mysteries. That Leo remains forever in search of Rema to the end breaks your heart in so many ways because it’s both a testament to how much he loves her but also a mirror of the fear that we can never truly be close to those flames that we flutter closest towards.

There is apparently a rare syndrome that can cause this imposter delusion, but I think reading this solely as a narrative exploration of a condition is kind of a boring way to approach the story. But as the book really doesn’t hint at this and most people aren’t aware of this condition, it may be helpful to know that beforehand.