"Tre stelle e mezza" is an interesting title. It could potentially refer to a variety of things. Maybe it's a description of a place with three and a half stars. It might be a review of a product or service that received this rating.

Perhaps it's a fictional concept, like a story set in a world where stars have a different meaning. It could also be a creative expression, using the idea of three and a half stars to convey a particular mood or atmosphere.

The possibilities are endless, and it's up to the imagination to decide what "Tre stelle e mezza" truly represents. It could be a source of inspiration for a writer, artist, or anyone looking for a unique and thought-provoking idea.

Whether it's a literal or metaphorical interpretation, "Tre stelle e mezza" has the potential to spark curiosity and engage the mind. It's a title that makes you wonder and invites you to explore further.

What a book that is anti-woman, tiring, and boring!

It's a book to avoid reading and just let go.

Oh my, when do two strange people start to talk philosophically when they see each other?

It's full of long flowery sentences that only serve to store pain on Instagram.

After reading 95 pages, I gave up.

Thomas Bernhard, a renowned literary figure, would later pen his works with a fierce intensity, as if his words were sharp shards of ice relentlessly stabbing at the bourgeois underbelly of Austria. It comes as no surprise, then, that he titles his first novel Frost. However, this is merely his warm-up act before the truly scathing and cold-hearted provocateur within him fully emerges.

Compared to most other writers, Frost is still incredibly bleak. The atmosphere it creates is one of desolation and despair. Yet, it doesn't quite reach the mesmerizing malevolence and the repetitive sentence structuring that are characteristic of his future novels.

The style in Frost may be somewhat different, but from the very beginning, you know without a doubt that you are immersed in a Bernhard novel. There is a certain tone and a unique way of presenting ideas that is unmistakably his.

As for me, after delving into this novel, I think I'll go and suck on a lime and down a few whiskey sours. Maybe it will help me embrace the bitterness that Bernhard's works often evoke and keep that feeling rolling within me.

It's an experience that is both challenging and strangely captivating, much like Bernhard's writing itself.

'Frost' represents yet another outgrowth of Bernhard's vivid imagination. In this work, a student trails a painter, or rather a man who once was a painter, with the intention of determining if he is of sound mind. It becomes immediately evident that he is not, and from as early as the first five pages of the book, the question that emerges is what sort of imagination this painter harbors.

The book provides no respite, no joy of gradually emerging understanding (even if that understanding might expose psychosis, impending suicide, unrelieved pessimism, or profound misanthropy).

Reading 'Frost' is akin to lying in a pool of pig slurry, where one has to raise oneself every few minutes to clean oneself, only to lie back down and then get up again. It makes Beckett seem overly fastidious and unproductive, and it makes nearly every other author appear cowardly, for in comparison, most authors rush towards pleasant conclusions. This unflinching and uncompromising nature of 'Frost' forces the reader to confront the harsher aspects of the human psyche and the often unpalatable realities of life.

A tender, heartwarming ray of luminous splendor and indomitable hope.

However, it seems that this is just some other PR-tested jargon that I'll always miss out on. The literary experience of Bernhard is not a universal truth to be debated or defended. It is an incontrovertible singularity that no one should neglect to endure. Avoiding it means lying to oneself and hiding from the worst.

Levity, love, good sex, and euphoria have occurred before and will happen again, perhaps to you, maybe once, maybe again, or maybe never. But for Bernhard, it's a different story. This is both about him and not. There are undeniable existences full of Frost: suicide, madness, loneliness, despair, cold, deprivation, revulsion, death, uselessness, suffering, sickness, loss, insanity, and more suicides.

Whatever one's individual circumstances, it is an historically accurate account, "a highly self-confident misanthropic degeneration." It's like the secret diary of modern civilization, encrypted on every face.

The prose presents a fragmented cascade of churning thoughts, observations, and inconsequential wanderings. A young medical student pretends to be a young law student to fulfill a supervisor's order to observe an old man called a painter but who hasn't painted in decades. That's all that happens.

"One day you come home and know that from now on you have to pay for everything, and from that moment on you're old and dead. One day, everything is over, though life may continue for a while. You're dead, and beauty, happiness, wealth, everything has left you forever." The painter is talking to himself, not to me.

This was my first Bernhard, which I read in the spring of 2005. I needed several attempts and threw the book at the wall several times (these marks are still clearly visible on the book). It was really not easy to get into Bernhard's language and especially into its density. Strauch's monologues confused me to such an extent that I could almost feel it physically. Nevertheless, I noticed that it would be worth reading this book through. And the third time it worked. From then on it was too late and I was forever lost - Bernhard had cast his spell on me and henceforth determined my life. And I mean this not only in an idealistic, but also in a very practical sense. In any case, the reading of "Frost" opened up a world for me in which I felt at home after several resistances.

Perhaps a little more about the book itself: In my eyes, along with "Disturbance", it belongs to the most complex and difficult books by Bernhard. The language and the thoughts are very dense. The philosophical content is very high. In any case, already in this early work, the linguistic pull on the reader is very strong. Almost as strong as in the story "Going". This in particular makes up a large part of the charm of the book.

Herrjemine, finally I'm through!!!! What an incredibly boring book. And normally I'm a big Bernhard fan... but this... this was really exhausting and unbearable. Once you've read one page, you know the whole book. That means, all the rest feels like tedious waste of time, getting into the unbearable - which is exactly what this book is about. So: you feel with it. For this art then also two points and not just one.

In my eyes, "Frost" only awaits with a few of these refreshing, clear, destructive statements like others... instead, page by page senseless juxtapositions of phrases and, worse, individual words (of course by the painter Strauch). Without sense and understanding. Yes, this is my impression. Yes, maybe I didn't quite understand the book.

But a few passages I really liked very much and I want to explicitly highlight them here, be it page 206 the comparison of youth and old age or page 256 the description of the slaughter of the cattle (I read the Suhrkamp edition); also, very nice, page 208, an improved version of the Lord's Prayer:

"Our Father, who art in hell,
hallowed be no name.
Thy kingdom come not.
Thy will be not done.
As in hell, so also on earth.
Give us this day no daily bread.
And forgive us no debt,
as we also forgive no debtors.
Lead us into temptation
and deliver us from no evil.
Amen."

Agenzia Turistica Weng

Welcome to Austria, among the mountains of the enchanting Weng. Come and discover the local beauties, the unspoiled nature, the beautiful farms. There are many accommodation options (one), but the landlady of the inn alone makes the stay worthwhile (hey, hey, guys, what's that mischievous face, what are you thinking...?).

Enjoy the privilege of waking up in the morning and finding the water in the bottle on the bedside table frozen! But the possible experiences - which we don't hesitate to define as extraordinary - certainly don't stop here... For example, we report the testimony of Mr. Seehofer: "Yes, I woke up and... I wanted to put my dentures back in my mouth but... they were trapped in the frozen water of the glass". What a wonder!

You will get to know the pleasant humanity that populates our valleys and hilltops. You will be amazed to see that the higher you climb, the less people are dressed. What extraordinary resistance! Just a wool sweater at -22°C!

But above all, you will be able to take endless walks in the company of the painter Strauch, even in the middle of winter, walking in the knee-high snow, in a cold that if you stop for a moment is the end. Strauch will talk and talk and talk without stopping, not exactly with you... but also with you, you'll see, it will be a unique experience. In fact, the cold is such that it doesn't even allow you to think, or maybe it's the opposite, who knows!

Let yourself be involved in the paranoid delirium of the old painter, savor the load of hatred in his elucubrations, walk first fearfully and then more and more surely on the dangerous icy surface of madness and gradually recognize its charm! You will see, slowly but inexorably and in a deadly way, his reasons emerge from Strauch's monologue, and you will enjoy the thrill of making them a little yours too, or you will even come to fully agree with him on everything! It should not be underestimated that during these wonderful walks, the old man will pretend that you always walk in front of him and will continuously push you forward with the help of his stick pointed at your back!

In short, don't let this memorable stay slip away!

The three stars are more based relative to other Bernhard works.

With his first novel, Bernhard is admittedly observing the artist. However, in his more mature works, he transforms into the artist himself.

This is a natural progression. So, if you wish to read his works, it is advisable to start here. Here, he offers some structure, making it less intimidating compared to something like Correction.

After that, perhaps you could move on to Gargoyles or Walking or a play if you can locate one. Then, you can gradually work your way into Correction or Extinction.

It's somewhat similar to approaching Beckett. If you are willing, it is worthwhile to invest the time in learning about the author.

This way, you can better understand and appreciate his unique writing style and the profound themes he explores in his works.

When I started reading Bernhard's "Frost", I was fine. Through a web of unfortunate life events one after another, I froze this book. And Bernhard. Whom I had often read before. Since I had to get rid of as many things as I owned, I didn't keep his books.

Here we have a young medical student whose task is to go and supervise a half-crazy painter on the verge of going mad in some godforsaken place and write reports to the painter's surgeon brother. Everything is cold, people are repulsive, life is hopeless. The end.

Now I'm convinced that reading Bernhard is actually a privilege (even though he loudly spits on various social privileges), that a person can read him only if he has a certain degree of socio-material stability and manages to get his head around his overly long sentences steeped in cynicism. Otherwise, reading him is self-mutilation. All I want now is to watch Moretti drive a motorbike through the colorful streets of Rome and listen to Oliver Dragojević's ballads and I don't want any confrontation with reality or with Bernhard.

A famulus receives the order from his superior, the surgeon Strauch, to observe his brother, the painter Strauch. The protocol of the encounter in the remote place Weng extends over 26 days.

The early novel "Frost" has the wit of a typical Bernhard text, but overall it is far gloomier, more existential, and bitterer than the later publications.

The famulus dutifully carries out his task, carefully noting down every detail of the painter Strauch's actions and behaviors. As the days pass, he begins to uncover the complex and tortured psyche of the artist.

The setting of the remote Unort Weng adds to the sense of isolation and desolation. The cold and harsh environment seems to mirror the emotional state of the characters.

Despite its darkness, "Frost" also contains moments of beauty and insight. The descriptions of the natural world are vivid and evocative, and the dialogue between the characters is sharp and revealing.

Overall, "Frost" is a powerful and thought-provoking work that offers a unique perspective on the human condition.

Experience shows that Austrian literature almost unerringly hits my aesthetic taste. There is something special in it, when the dark sides of human existence are presented in that characteristic intellectual way for the German-speaking culture and philosophy. Hence, in "Frost" resonate the echoes of Kafka - although much more subtly than perhaps the commentators would like to think - of Alfred Kubin ("On the Other Side") or Gustav Meyrink ("The Visitations of J.H. Obereit among the Drunks of Time"). Hence, we are transferred to the rural areas, located somewhere in the mountains, through which the characters walk, giving free rein to their thoughts (yes, you are right, treating "Frost" as a villainous reflection of Mann's "The Magic Mountain" can be an interesting interpretive clue). In turn, the form of expression of the painter, the central character for the plot, has something in it of Nietzschean aphorisms or short texts of Cioran. This is also a book about the despair that devours Strauch, in the description of which Bernhard draws in handfuls from Kierkegaard and his "Sickness unto Death".

What is beautiful in all this is that this entire network of references and trails does not exhaust the depth of "Frost". These are "only" ideas, and in order to properly resonate, they must be supported (which also happens!) by the form - an intriguing, thoughtful and, most importantly, conveying the atmosphere of the atrophy that oozes from the pages of the book.

I am not surprised that such a debut made a considerable impression in Austria.