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In a note before the Index Ransmayr states that the “Flattersatz” - the ragged margin - the “flying” sentence - does not only belong to the poets. And then he goes and writes a novel that looks like verse form, yet reads very fluidly. In long sentences that are grammatically correct (mostly, I think?) yet give you the freedom to read them like a poem. Another Austrian novel about the scaling of an Tibetan mountain, and like Glavinic's [b:Das größere Wunder 18339138 Das größere Wunder Thomas Glavinic https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1377606335s/18339138.jpg 25892158] I really enjoyed this one too. Two brothers, bonded by Ireland, a lost mother, a rebellious father, the ocean, the cliffs and the mountains. One of them has the ambition to explore the last white spot on all the maps, a missing piece in the Himalaya, the supposed location of The Flying Mountain. The other tags along, in support, and because his big brother's desires tend to take over. Their journey and the told story jumps between the past and the present. Between the simple life of sheep and nomadic tribes, and the tech-enhanced world of the modern world (“Flüssigkristallschirme”!). Between the different aspirations that send us out into the world, and the different attainments that make us stop searching.