The Descent Into Chaos

Hungarian literature is slowly proving itself to be one of the most compelling in the world. While there is no written evidence of its earliest forms, Hungarian literature’s oral tradition—comprised of folktales and folk songs—can be traced back to pre-Christian times and has been passed down from one generation to another. The first continuous written example is the Halotti beszéd, a short funeral oration written around 1200. Since then, the literature has steadily grown and expanded, from the Reformation to the Renaissance. There were occasional slumps and periods of decline, but these did not hinder its development. Poetry was, at the outset, the most prevalent form of Hungarian literature, while memoirs constituted the best prose literature of the time. Drama was also a common form.

The novel was slow to take shape, with the first “real” Hungarian novel, Tariménes utazása (Tarimenes’ Journey) by György Bessenyei, appearing only in the early 19th century. This marked the beginning of the evolution and eventual ascent of the Hungarian novel. Unfortunately, before the 20th century, Hungarian literature was largely inaccessible to the rest of the world. The advent of globalization became a catalyst for making Hungarian and other national literatures accessible on a global scale. The rise of Hungarian literature into global prominence ushered in writers such as Magda Szabó, Sándor Márai, Péter Nádas, and Péter Esterházy, whose works defined the landscape of contemporary Hungarian literature. Not to be outdone, Imre Kertész was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2002.

Another pillar of contemporary Hungarian literature is László Krasznahorkai, whose remarkable growth in popularity has been palpable in recent years. Born on January 5, 1954, to a middle-class family in Gyula, eastern Hungary, Krasznahorkai’s interest in writing and law was sparked by the works of Franz Kafka. He initially studied law before pursuing philology and Hungarian literature at Eötvös Loránd University in Budapest. In 1985, he made his literary debut with the publication of Sátántangó, a critical success followed by Az ellenállás melankóliája (The Melancholy of Resistance) in 1989. He would go on to produce more critically acclaimed works that earned him accolades across the world. His rich body of work was eventually recognized by the Swedish Academy in 2025, when he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature “for his compelling and visionary oeuvre that, in the midst of apocalyptic terror, reaffirms the power of art.”

…and as I’m one of you, accordingly I’m too close to you, so it will be difficult on this first try to find the precise words to describe exactly what comprises this repulsive aspect, that aspect that causes you to sink below every other nation, because it’s hard to find words with which we can enumerate the hierarchy of that storehouse of loathsome human qualities with which you repel the world…

László Krasznahorkai, Baron Wenckheim’s Homecoming

Krasznahorkai’s lush oeuvre features essays, screenplays, and short stories, but his most renowned works are his novels—among them Baron Wenckheim’s Homecoming. Originally published in Hungarian in 2016 as Báró Wenckheim hazatér, it was made available to Anglophone readers through a translation by Ottilie Mulzet. The novel is set in a run-down provincial town in southwestern Hungary. The town is led by a Mayor who clings to power mainly due to the indulgence of the Police Chief. He is also supported by a motorcycle gang and the Local Force, who act as watchdogs against unwanted intrusions from the outside world. The town is in a state of decline. Like the Mayor, the townsfolk’s moral compasses are also deteriorating—practically nonexistent. They have slowly been corrupted by their environment.

The town’s tenuous harmony is disrupted by welcome news: the return of an aristocrat to his baronial estate near the town. As the title suggests, the novel centers on the homecoming of Baron Béla Wenckheim, the last scion of a noble family that once ruled over the town. Forty years earlier, the Baron had left his hometown to live in exile in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Now in his sixties, he returns home in disgrace. In the Argentinian capital, he accumulated massive gambling debts and narrowly avoided prison thanks to the intervention of his Austrian relatives. Ironically, they helped him only to preserve the family name. As such, they had him sent home alone, by train, without luggage and only a few coins in his pocket. Their one demand: that he no longer embarrass them.

In his hometown, the Baron is supposed to live a quiet, obscure life. However, this proves impossible due to his social status and noble lineage. When the townspeople learn of his arrival, they are jubilant. Yet, the Baron’s financial ruin and narrow escape from Argentina are facts that escape local tabloids. Rumors swirl that the fabulously wealthy Baron has returned to donate his fortune to revitalize the ailing town. Upon his arrival, the Baron is met with an ostentatious welcome. Bureaucrats and dignitaries scheme alongside criminal bikers and con men; townspeople from various walks of life converge on the Baron, each hoping to profit from him. To them, he is a hero and a possible savior.

While the town buzzes with excitement over the Baron’s return, one person remains indifferent. The Professor—few characters are named—is described by Nature magazine as “one of the three most important moss experts in the entire world.” He has, however, abandoned his prestigious research and now lives in a ramshackle hut on the outskirts of town. His life is disrupted by the sudden arrival of his nineteen-year-old daughter, whom he has never met. Accompanied by a TV crew, she confronts him and demands the money she believes she is owed. But the Professor is prepared: he drives them away with a burst of gunfire from an assault rifle. This bizarre act earns him the admiration of a local gang of neo-Nazi bikers, who mistake him for a nativist reactionary.

The city was so small and dark, the streets were so narrow, the houses were so low-built and run-down, and the sky above them was also so low, that he would be fully inclined to state that this was not the same town, and yet it was exactly the same, but it was as if somehow it had become a copy, as if he could only remember — but with hair’s breadth accuracy — the original, this, however, was just a copy, not the real town, and he could only hope the real one would be coming along soon …

László Krasznahorkai, Baron Wenckheim’s Homecoming

Meanwhile, the Baron was confused by the festivities. He appears withdrawn, oblivious to the townspeople’s expectations and the red-carpet welcome. But in returning to his homeland, the Baron had another goal: apart from seeking anonymity in the countryside, he hopes to reconnect with his childhood sweetheart, Marika, who spurned him decades earlier. However, what ensues was a series of grotesque, hilarious, and at times absurd encounters, compounded by the Baron’s failing memory. As his mind deteriorates, he seems increasingly unmoored from reality. Though the early sections center on the Baron, more characters and subplots gradually emerge, leading to a question about the novel’s true focus.

Given the attention given to the Professor early on, one might presume he is the novel’s main protagonist. However, after the first section, he disappears, reappears, and vanishes again. This highlights the novel’s nonlinear structure. The narrative digresses, often losing focus—a hallmark of Krasznahorkai’s work. Eventually, the novel’s true center becomes clear: with the Baron and his return acting as catalysts, the heart of the novel is the town itself. This echoes Sátántangó, Krasznahorkai’s debut. In fact, his first four novels are considered thematically linked. But it is Sátántangó with which Baron Wenckheim’s Homecoming shares the most direct similarities. Both are set in similarly desolate towns and feature ensemble casts of drifters hoping for salvation through the return of a long-lost, messianic figure.

The setting plays a seminal role, evoking echoes of Krasznahorkai’s hometown, Gyula, near the Romanian border. The town has become a dark place, both literally and figuratively. Various forms of corruption permeate it. Worse, the town has lost its identity and slowly disintegrated. At its helm is a pompous, inept Mayor protected by bikers and high on delusions of grandeur. He fantasizes that the Baron’s wealth will solidify his grip on power. Meanwhile, the populace has lost its moral compass. They have become inert, relying mainly on what luck and fortune will bring their way. The denizens of the town have all pinned their hopes on the Baron, who they hoped would lift the town to prosperity and restore their long-lost national pride.

In its depiction of small-town dynamics, the novel exposes the farce and hypocrisy that underlie provincial life. This is vividly captured in the Mayor’s frantic, last-ditch effort to clean up the town before the Baron’s arrival. The ensuing chaos involves a set of laughable mistakes. An inept choir sang a mangled version of Don’t Cry for Me Argentina for the Baron. Orphans are displaced from a crumbling château, and the homeless are hidden in an old folks’ home. A four-horse trap is procured solely to welcome the Baron at the train station. This chain of farcical events, sparked by unfounded rumors, underscores the extremes people will go to for personal gain and their ambitions.

…empirical evidence is precisely that which is sacred in so-called scientific thought, and by these means—there’s no point in denying it—we can go far, but at the same time, by following this method, we greatly distance ourselves from the problem, because it’s so, but so manifest that empirical proof itself is something that no one has ever heretofore truly dealt with, namely, no one has ever wished genuinely to confront the deeply problematic nature of empirical verification as such, because whoever did this went mad, or appeared to be a pure dilettante,

László Krasznahorkai, Baron Wenckheim’s Homecoming

Identity and memory are also central themes, examined through the Baron’s deteriorating mind. He becomes a shadow of his former self—a specter from the past, perpetually weeping from a melancholic illness. As he wanders the town, he finds it unrecognizable, commenting: “This was not the same town, and yet he was compelled to acknowledge that it was exactly the same, but it was as if somehow it had become a copy.” Nothing makes sense. This culminates in a comedic moment when he fails to recognize Marika—the woman he returned to find—because the real woman no longer resembles the one in his mind’s eye.

As the truth unravels, disillusionment replaces the initial excitement over the Baron’s return. Blame is passed around, further exposing the town’s moral decay. Strangers begin to appear. No one knows who they are or why they’ve come. As if to further underline the chaos, a Biblical plague of frogs appears from nowhere. Meanwhile, the book’s narrators reflect about an Krasznahorkai prepares the stage for inevitable catastrophe. The sense of doom—hallmark of his oeuvre—slowly materializes. Though Baron Wenckheim’s Homecoming continues in the Krasznahorkai tradition, it is not without flaws. The narrative voice can feel superficial, lacking the emotional resonance of Sátántangó. His famously long and winding sentences can be dizzying, sometimes detracting from the reading experience.

Still, the novel is anchored by literary brilliance. It is filled with philosophical asides, prefaced by an orchestral conductor’s performance that doubles as a tirade and meditation. The novel itself is like an orchestral performance—often dissonant. Perspective shifts are abrupt, characters vanish without explanation, and chaos builds. The story meanders. But this is, after all, the world of Krasznahorkai’s creation. At one point, a scathing editorial circulates, causing mass hysteria. It reads: “To be Hungarian is not to belong to a people, but instead it’s an illness, an incurable, frightening disease, a misfortune of epidemic proportions that could overcome every single observer with nausea.” It is not only a damning portrait of Hungary but a bleak view of humanity at large.

In Baron Wenckheim’s Homecoming, the 2025 Nobel Laureate offers a masterfully dissonant orchestral performance. The novel contains all the hallmarks of a Krasznahorkai story: a desolate town, an eclectic cast of inert characters, a messianic figure, and the looming specter of doom. What begins as a hopeful homecoming turns darkly comedic, revealing the deep-rooted hypocrisy of small-town life. The town, more than the Baron, becomes the main character. While the novel meanders, it remains resolute in its critique of recent Hungarian history—and, by extension, a world sliding into chaos. Equal parts humorous and bleak, Baron Wenckheim’s Homecoming is a compelling exploration of the human condition and a testament to Krasznahorkai’s literary legacy.

… only the wind roared across the city, turning over everything it could, just this icy wind, it swept again and again among these innumerable transport trucks, but in such a way that every door in every house, every window in every wall, every lamp on the streets along the way trembled, and only these ghastly tankers did not tremble, no, these – faced with the wind that rose against them – didn’t even quiver, they just stood there imperturbably, but also aimlessly, stupidly, and monstrously, like some horrific mistake.

László Krasznahorkai, Baron Wenckheim’s Homecoming
Book Specs

Author: László Krasznahorkai
Translator (from Hungarian): Ottilie Mulzet
Publisher:  Tuskar Rock Press
Publishing Date: 2021 (2016)
Number of Pages: 558
Genre: Literary, Dystopian

Synopsis

Nearing the end of his life, Baron Bela Wenckheim flees his gambling debts in Buenos Aires and decides to return to the small Hungarian town where he wishes to be reunited with his high-school sweetheart. News of his arrival travel fast, and the town’s conmen and politicians sense a rare opportunity.

About the Author

To learn more about the 2025 Nobel Prize in Literature awardee and multi-awarded writer László Krasznahorkai, click here.