It is the early summer of 1918 near the end of the First World War. A pretty town in the Hungarian part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire is far away from the battle front, but the war, now obviously being lost, seeps into it. Mutilated soldiers return home. And boys who have just finished school are expecting to be called up and sent to fight. Four of them have formed a close-knit gang, who spend their last weeks desperately clinging to what is left of their adolescence and in rebellion against the adult world. They create for themselves a `reality' which is separate from the `reality' of the outside world - sometimes they do it by competing with each other in telling lies about themselves, sometimes in telling truths. One form the rebellion takes is stealing money from their families on a large scale - not because they particularly want the articles they buy with it, but more as a gesture of defiance. Half in and half out of this little group are a couple of adults. One is the elder brother of one of the four who has returned from the war as a one-armed invalid. The other is an actor who, with professional skill, finds just the right tone with the young people, which to some extent disarms their suspicions of him as an adult.
The emotions of the four and the relationships between them are described with subtlety and elegance, with a powerful and unexpected twist at the end. We see the adults through the eyes of the boys: there are very strong visual images of them. Sometimes the description of the town's inhabitants reminded me of Dylan Thomas' Llareggub - not least in one passage when the town is bathed in moonlight. Often there are strong evocations of smell. There are occasional strange stream-of-consciousness passages, relating sometimes to the thoughts of the characters, while at other times they are authorial.
There is a long set-piece episode in an empty theatre in which the actor manipulates a series of transformations in himself, the boys and the scenery; the boys are like puppets under his influence. It makes compelling reading, though at the time the significance these pages is unclear until the powerful end of the book.
Despite the realism of the descriptions, an enigmatic air hovers over the whole book. Its construction is not as straightforward as that of Marai's later novels, `Embers' and `Conversations in Bolzano' (see my reviews), and so it makes a rather more difficult read. And again, as in the two later books, the translation by George Szirtes is admirable.