An oafish neo-Nazi henchman portends apocalypse at the molecular level, setting off a chain of unrelated events, all of which spell doom. A wolf attack, a bombing, a pandemic, every day is doomsday to someone. Really, collapse is inevitable, if it isn't the disease or the political violence or the complete collapse of matter, our own minds will eventually shatter us.The first half of Herscht 07769 builds up to some great conclusion that never happens. All the original threads we follow from the start become frayed, the false vacuum decay apocalypse, the wolf attacks, the bombings, they are not resolved, what seems important never comes to fruition, instead are ended plainly, pointless death. It isn't one thing, its always the other. Every precaution taken is rendered futile by some stray catastrophe.I find it somewhat strange that this is the book Krasznahorkai chose to write in one single sentence. Some of his novels benefit from the long-drawn meandering prose, but this one seems like a strange choice given the story's accessibility. Though, I did feel this lent the book a symphonic quality; As I read, the singular stream of events, with their highs and lows, did have similar qualities to the music of Bach, which, glancing through some other reviews, I see Krasznahorkai has actually asserted himself:"Bach's music is also very complex, but we listen to it without stopping it at the bar limits, just because it gives us the time to rethink where we are actually."The most inspired and interesting idea in this book is never wrapped up, annoyingly enough, though, that is the point.