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I refused to hear the limpid beauty of the songs, or the dark anguish

I grew to be wary of that rich emollience of tone, that tempered, bourgeois liquidity

Sebald employs the the antique, somewhat 'literary' locution of 'soul'

The tone is elegiac, muffled, but also curiously intense

It was hard not to share n+1's derision, once its victim has been so tendentiously trussed