This is my favourite novel by a favourite writer. Handke, one of the most fascinating writers to have emerged in the post-war period, is shamefully under-valued in the UK. His plays are ground-breaking and wonderfully theatrical (again shamefully neglected) and I find his fiction, if anything, even better. "Repetition" is haunting and bears regular re-reading, each time yielding more of its subtleties and wonders. The story is simple but the imagery and emotional impact of the, at times difficult, writing is staggering. Typical of Handke’s style is the amazing attention to seemingly incidental detail, as though life is made up of tiny disparate experiences and happenings. I love the discussion on congruence, an idea he uses elsewhere, most strikingly in the play “The Hour We Knew Nothing of Each Other”, where, through incredibly brief interactions and near-misses, the “characters” lives ricochet off each other, without them recognising the inter-connectedness of it all. There are so many wonderful episodes in “Repetition” – the description of methods of tree-grafting (sounds boring but is beautiful), the “one-word fairy tales” from the Slovenian dictionary, the wedding scene with the fallen mulberries. If you haven’t read Handke before, I would recommend this as the most accessible and flawless of his works. This book is a strange kind of magic and, if you find it as gripping and moving as I do, you’ll read it again and again.