Having read my share of basically insane authors, I would venture to say that Mario Carneiro is the closest thing to an authentically deranged author that I have ever come across, along with Antonin Artaud. At times the pitch of intensity reached in his tales is actually frightening. The stories themselves, yes, lack focus and often degenerate into subjective meanderings, but this only bespeaks of the artist's state of mind. His obsession with "the other" or "the shadow" seems to have been his overwhelming desire to enter the realm of the imaginary, the aesthetic, entirely. His narrators are, like Bernhard's (but more so) seriously messed up people voicing their misanthropy in sometimes unintelligible, sometimes intelligible ways. Most end up killing themselves or someone else. All are extremely anti-social and despise the contented, even revering murderers and drug addicts over 'normal' people. One will be left with a paradoxically tasty distate in one's mouth after reading these stories, and will gain a clear understanding of why this disturbed man ended up dead at 26 years old.