This edition includes an introduction to "The Tenant" by Thoms Ligotti, the Kafka-ish novel itself, four short stories and reproductions of nine surealistic drawing.J from NY Amazon.com: Roland Topor's "The Tenant" is nothing if not original; the author impresses his nightmarish worldview without leaving us a moment to draw breath, and as we read deeper and deeper into the tragic tale of M. Trelkovsky we can't help but share his vision, at least for the duration of the novel. I've long been a fan of the 1976 Roman Polanski film and often wondered why it was so obscure. After reading Topor's novel, I had to appreciate how beautifully Polanski translated this very complex and disturbing work to the screen. Comparing it with the movie you realize Polanski left out only what he absolutely had to, and that wasn't much. At the outset it seems that Trelkovsky is an average joe who lives in a world of material necessity, habitual discourtesy from others, and bullies. Actually I think this is kind of the point of the novel and the movie: that we inhabit a world of discourtesy, ugliness, and any sensitive or kind impulse we possess will slowly be beaten out of us by the harshness of the people we encounter. We are all bullies to an extent, but the bigger ones will eventually discover us and dictate our lives for us. We realize fairly quickly that Trelkovsky is not an average joe at all, at least not after moving into Monsieur Zy's apartment. Topor does an amazing job of making the most revolting monsters out of otherwise unremarkable characters; more of his work really needs to be translated, because this is as good as anything Gogol or even Kafka achieved in bringing out the menacing, grotesque qualities of daily encounter. He is mercilessly scrutinized by his neighbors who are, it seems, anal retentive to the point of insanity and are the kind of people who go out of their way to torment an impoverished woman with a disabled child. Trelkovsky happens to move into the very apartment where a young woman, Simone Choule, committed suicide. Topor uses this as the catalyst for Trelkovsky's eventual erosion of identity and madness. His gradual obsession with this mysterious young woman who in the end we learn very little about (aside from things like her reading tastes, her fashion sense which becomes well known to Trelkovsky in a quite unorthodox way, etc) is paramount in what he perceives as a self-destructive vengeance against his tormentors. The last few pages of the novel are when things get really disturbing and we realize just how far around the bend Trelkovsky has gone. I couldn't help thinking that there was something very symbolic about his perception of the bathroom opposing his apartment--the lack of a stench, the inhuman cleanliness of Monsieur Zy and the rest of the gang--in opposition to their abhorrent behavior. These are people who will not admit they are people. The slightest sound has them rapping frantically on Trelkovsky's walls, his trash itself seems out of place in their tidy garbage cans, and seemingly do nothing but work, sleep, and bother others to no end. Topor is deadly serious for the most part here, but is also making a hilarious comment on our animality all that more funny for its subtletly. Topor's stories at the end are equally bleak yet have a bit more comedy in them, very dark comedy. The artwork at the end reflects perfectly the mind of the author and is thoroughly enjoyable. Thomas Ligotti's introduction couldn't be more ideal. Being a fan of his fiction I realized that this is the kind of thing he himself might have written, and the difference in writing style between himself and Topor is actually very slight. He makes a razor sharp distinction between "insiders" and "outsiders" in literature and while that may seem a limited dichotomy at first, after he does the grim explaining you immediately understand. This is as good a piece of literature as any I have read and one of the most intense reading experiences I have ever had. A must read! -- Source of annotation: Marvin or Ruth Sackner.