An exploration of culture and the ruthless imparting of baggage it leaves one with, Wittgenstein's Mistress is quite stunning. What kind of world does the mind create when facts and tidbits mean more than real people and real relationships? Kate, the narrator of the book, is the only person in the world. She sustains herself with fantasies of dead artists and musicians, ancient Greek heroes, and philosophers. The meaningless scraps of information and gossip she dwells in is so hollow, yet she does try to humanize these glorious and canonized figures.

The touch of humanity is missing from her life; she is desperately searching for it in half-forgotten memories and random factoids. It is tragic and frustrating to witness her humanity slipping away from her frantically clutching fingers.

The last twenty or so pages are wonderful. I was very skeptical about how this book could possibly end when about 3/4's through it, but it pulls it off well. If not exactly satisfying, it leaves the brain with something to munch on. David Markson pushed the boundaries of writing, and I would only recommend this book to someone with a penchant for post-modern literature and experimental writing styles. I can see this book staying with me for a long time.