This relentless stream of brutal sexual gymnastics ('the penal colony of sex') circles around Man (no name), his sexual object (his wife), their child ('progenitorial profit') and the wife's would-be lover.
This principal menu is dressed with cheap anticapitalist rhetoric.
The logical conclusion of this book is the extinction of mankind, preponderantly for sexual reasons, and cardinally because of Man, 'that irreconciliable enemy of her sex', who considers his wife as a 'jar to p* in' and sex as 'emptying a dustbag'.
This book is a disgusting rage against mankind, heavy shooting with very serious collateral damage. Everything and everybody is yelled at: her dear fellow Austrians, her native village, Catholic Austria, the Pope ('the immortal souls of the unemployed whose number increaseth year by year as the Pope commandeth'), sports ('Silly Old Sally of an Olympian idea of humanity'), the prolets ('workers eating their wurst and waiting for the worst'), food ('poisonous cheese, rotten dairy products') with human digestion considered as a sewage system, even the seasons ('cut them down to dirty heaps as does winter the landscape').
However, the author contradicts herself fundamentally: there is Man, but 'no two human beings are alike'.
The ultimate result of this caricatural SM jeremiade is boring Grand Guignol: 'Nothing but those lights caresses the wretched bodies shamelessly confronting us in all their morning stench and exhaust fumes.'
No wonder that the author concludes: 'What people live on apart from their hope, is a mystery to me. Once the act of purchasing is accomplished, everything is really over.'
But for some, everything is not over: they read E. Jelinek, or better, listen to Mozart.
This book is only for those interested in a life view seen through extremely dark spectacles.
Five stars for the courage of the translator.