A tuberculosis sanatorium in early twentieth-century Silesia. A cluster of men taking the waters, debating philosophy, medicine, women, and the nature of civilisation — badly.

Into this atmosphere arrives Mieczysław Wojnicz, young, anxious, observant. What begins as a period piece that's all moustaches, mineral cures, and heavy European conversation then gets grubby. Something is wrong. People die. The woods feel close. The air itself seems to listen.

It's gothic, satire, folk horror, philosophical farce. The novel is threaded with misogyny so thick, like life, it starts to warp the story. It’s part Thomas Mann, part fever dream, part surgical dismantling of inherited male certainty.

Paperback edition, very good condition.