Instead of the book he’s meant to write, Rudolph, a Viennese musicologist, produces this tale of procrastination, failure, and despair, a dark and grotesquely funny story of small woes writ large and profound horrors detailed and rehearsed to the point of distraction. We learn of Rudolf’s sister, whose help he invites then reviles; his 'really marvellous' house, which he hates; the suspicious illness he carefully nurses; his ten-year-long attempt to write the perfect opening sentence; and his escape to the island of Majorca, which turns out to be the site of someone else’s very real horror story and brings him no release from himself.

Concrete is Thomas Bernhard at his finest: a monologue of blistering rage that exists as a bleak yet hilarious insight into procrastination and failure, scratching the murky depths of our souls.