That won't last much into part four, however, where dour Germans discuss water supplies and circumlocute a bravura scene, that I only hope you don't try to read while drinking a mug of cocoa...
And the final picture is one of a novel of unusual depth, a wicked blackness, and some sense of magical realism almost, contrasting with the Grimm grim central European colours. The book reviewing gods will attest I acted almost as a moth to a flame myself over this title, and again the flame was a cautionary, life-affirming memento mori.
And just as the original seems utterly bizarre in its mix of mediums - Sylvia Platt with her head in the oven, done as a diorama of dolls' house contents - so this could well have something for everyone.