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“There is still time. There is always still time.” — Florian Illies

The start of 1913 feels strangely familiar. The world looked steady, even full of promise, but there’s this quiet sense that something is about to break. It’s a reminder of how appearances can be misleading. Cities were alive with art and wealth, governments were exchanging polite words, and intellectuals were lost in thought over coffee. Still, every person in the story seems to be standing on a fault line without realizing it. That gap between what things look like on the surface and what’s happening underneath is what makes these early chapters feel so relevant.

I didn’t think this book would feel so modern. But the more I read, the more it reminded me of today. The economy is booming, tech feels unstoppable, politicians are performing for the cameras, and at the same time, people are quietly falling apart in the background.

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Showing how even in modern day diplomacy is performative and tense.

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Kaiser Wilhelm II looms in the background, a man known for his dramatic flair and uncertain convictions. The European powers were caught in a web of alliances that seemed strong on the surface but were really held together by mistrust and pride. Every nation thought war wasn’t a real possibility, even as they quietly got ready for it.

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The illusion of stability made me realize our world today isn’t all that different. Countries put on diplomatic smiles while quietly building up AI weapons and cyber tools. Cold wars haven’t gone away, they just became digital. Back in 1913, leaders were fixated on appearing strong. In 2025, not much has changed.

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Political cartoon of European leaders. My take is this alludes to the fake stability that is discussed.

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n legal tech, fintech, and even crypto, there’s a similar energy today. Venture capital rushing after trends, and investors brushing off risk in the name of growth. As I read about 1913, it didn’t feel like a history lesson...it was kind of like a warning.

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We see VC portfolios now being over 50% in AI (the latest trend). This really echos how chasing trends, us as humans ignore the risk just simply chasing growth.

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Illies talks about the wave of financial optimism in January and February (booming cities, lavish spending, and investors chasing industrial growth). It gave the impression that the world had cracked the code on economics.

That kind of energy showed up again during the 2000s tech boom and right before the 2008 housing crash. Money was moving fast, and no one really stopped to question it. Risk didn’t seem real anymore. People started treating markets like they were magic. All of it feels oddly familiar.

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Kokoschka’s paintings shocked the public. Freud’s ideas were passed around in hushed conversations, not openly discussed. In 1913, governments didn’t try to handle disruptive thinking with progress all they tried to do was shut it down. The goal wasn’t to understand the future, but rather suppress it.

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“The more restless the art became, the more worried the authorities grew.”

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Kafka's Love Letters: Anxiety in an Ambitious World

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Kafka's Love Letters: Anxiety in an Ambitious World

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Kafka is intense, brilliant, and completely in his own head. His letters to Felice Bauer are full of insecurity. He’s scared of marriage, afraid of being average, and worried that life will crush his writing. He feels a lot like the modern striver: talented, driven, but stuck in his own thoughts.

Kafka’s perfectionism hits close to home. I see it in the industries I'm interested in, but also myself already. Sometimes I think it's a good thing, after all the individuals who have this "issue" are all profound, but to what end.

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Illies shows how leaders clung to ceremony even as Europe’s political tensions kept climbing. Archduke Franz Ferdinand feels distant and misunderstood with his presence quietly becoming more ominous. At the same time, Wilhelm II keeps up the act, pretending everything is fine.

It’s hard not to draw a modern parallel. Today’s leaders do the same thing. They put on a show of control while real instability brews underneath. The performance takes center stage, and meaningful action gets pushed aside.

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Legal Tensions: Institutions Under Stress

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Legal Tensions: Institutions Under Stress

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What really stood out was how many institutions were starting to crack under pressure. The world was changing faster than the systems meant to guide it. Courts were still operating with 19th-century values, even as society began pushing back against old traditions.

The parallel today feels clear. Technology (AI, blockchain, digital identity) is moving faster than laws can keep up. Our legal systems are falling behind. Just like in 1913, we’re watching outdated frameworks try to control a future they don’t fully grasp.

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“Society had already leapt forward, but its institutions remained seated.”

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“At the very moment the world was speeding up, everyone seemed to be breaking down.” — Florian Illies

These chapters feel more personal and exposed. We are witnessing history unfold and people buckle under it. Artists lose control, political undercurrents turn turbulent, and the illusion of normalcy weakens. These months reminded me that the most dangerous moments in history aren’t loud, but that quiet ominous transition phase that we repeatedly see. Sometimes in our own lives as well.

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Finance: Death, Speculation, and the Fragility of Wealth

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Finance: Death, Speculation, and the Fragility of Wealth

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March opens with the shocking suicide of financier Alfred Redl. It’s not just espionage, but the collapse of trust in the elite. Even wealth and status couldn’t shield him from internal ruin.

From a financial lens: This collapse mirrors the 2023 Silicon Valley Bank shock. High-status institutions fell fast under hidden fragility. Redl’s betrayal is a financial metaphor: systems failing from the inside, quietly.

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This is the art of people who see the future coming and hate it. It reminds me of today’s creators warning about climate collapse, AI, and political decay. Art entertains. but it also processes terror.

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Culture in Breakdown: Klimt, Schönberg, and Explosive Expression

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Culture in Breakdown: Klimt, Schönberg, and Explosive Expression

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Artists began to unravel, and the work reflected it. Gustav Klimt painted death in gold. Arnold Schönberg shredded classical music into dissonance. The world’s anxiety was being exhaled into art, almost like a cry for help.

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Politics: Ideologies Sharpen, Division Widens

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Politics: Ideologies Sharpen, Division Widens

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In May and June, key political figures start clashing more openly. Nationalism, socialism, and anarchism all grow louder. Public debates turn bitter, and even writers and thinkers like Stefan Zweig get swept into the chaos.

From a political perspective, it feels familiar. Today, almost every social issue turns into a political fight, and the idea of compromise seems outdated. Just like in 1913, we’re watching a slow unraveling of any sense of shared reality.

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“The soul of the century wasn’t being nurtured — it was being fractured.”

If March and April were about tension, then May and June are when everything starts to catch fire. Illies shows a world growing more intense emotionally, politically, and artistically. Ideas aren’t being quietly shared in salons anymore. They’re shouted, torn apart, and rebuilt in bold, chaotic ways. You can feel the modern world taking shape in these chapters, and it’s not a comforting picture.

This is the moment when the promise of progress starts to feel hollow, and you begin to sense how little time anyone actually has left.

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A political cartoon from pre-WWI Germany

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Illies vividly captures how cities like Berlin, Vienna, and Paris turn into emotional pressure cookers. They are fast, crowded, and overflowing with energy. Cafes buzz with debate, and the streets are filled with new technologies like cars, electric lights, and flashy advertisements. Everything feels too bright, too fast, too overwhelming.

This kind of urban anxiety reminds me of today’s startup cities like New York, San Francisco, and London. Ambition, chaos, and burnout all mixing together. Everyone is chasing something but no one seems to pause. It's all very much the same as well in terms of what they are building and chasing.

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The Psychology of Collapse: Freud, Jung, and Inner Storms

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The Psychology of Collapse: Freud, Jung, and Inner Storms

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As Europe stands on the brink, two of its most famous minds are coming undone. Freud and Jung's collaboration collaboration falls apart in these chapters. Once the pioneers of a new way of thinking about the mind, they’ve become rivals, tangled in ego, conflicting theories, and rising distrust.

This breakdown feels familiar. It mirrors what happens when innovation moves faster than people can make sense of it. In legal tech and AI, the ones building the future often burn out or split apart in the process. They were proof that even the brightest minds can buckle under pressure.

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“Everyone felt it, but no one said it: the world was accelerating, and no one knew where it was going.”

These months feel like a storm building over a city that still sparkles on the surface. Illies takes us through a whirlwind of people trying to outrun collapse by chasing brilliance. They write faster, paint with more intensity, love with more recklessness. But nothing seems to stick. Everything is in motion, and nothing is settling.

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Futurists, Fascists, and Political Fanatics

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Futurists, Fascists, and Political Fanatics

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Marinetti, the founder of Futurism, bursts onto the scene. He is radical, explosive, and full of contradictions. He celebrates speed, violence, and war. His artistic vision would eventually help shape the rise of fascism. And in July, he is not the only one. Illies shows how extreme ideas start to gain serious traction.

This feels familiar today. Marinetti comes across as the early version of influencers who use style and spectacle to push ideology. The biggest example that comes to mind are Silicon Valley C-Suite executives, but primarily Elon Musk.

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Kokoschka & Alma Mahler: Obsession as Self-Destruction

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Kokoschka & Alma Mahler: Obsession as Self-Destruction

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After their breakup, Oskar Kokoschka commissions a life-size doll of Alma Mahler. A move so desperate and unhinged that it goes far beyond heartbreak. It is not about love. It is about control. Illies doesn’t romanticize it. He shows how obsession often hides emotional collapse.

We still celebrate obsession today. In Gen-Z romcoms, the same themes show up again and again. And in finance, tech, and politics, being all in is treated like a virtue, even when it pushes people to the edge.

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Elon Musk really reminds me of Marinetti

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Even as tensions rise, luxury industries continue to expand in July and August. Illies notes Vienna’s elite still throwing parties, fashion progressing, art being sold. There’s no sense of urgency in the economy.

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Kafka returns in these chapters coming off as distant, paranoid, writing furiously into silence. He embodies the modern figure trapped in his own brain, unable to connect but desperate to make meaning.

Personal tie in: This really reminds me of Batman and confuses me why this aura is glorified. It seems scary but powerful to experience from a third person perspective like a reader.

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Image of a modern man working in a dark room lit by a single laptop screen

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This is 2021 all over again — VC-backed startups booming while pandemic trauma, inequality, and climate change simmer underneath. The economy isn’t a leading indicator of reality. It’s often a distraction.

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In October, Illies highlights the completion of Stoclet Palace in Brussels, created for those with immense wealth and refined taste. It’s stunning and full of detail, but entirely disconnected from the collapsing world around it.

The palace feels like a metaphor for today’s architecture marvels (Apple HQ, The Line, etc.). They are impressive in design, but deeply out of touch. These are spaces built to avoid reality.

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“Every genius of the age was busy finishing something — and none of it would save them.”

Illies’ world in early fall 1913 feels like a cracked mirror. Leaders double down on denial. Artists spiral into their own self-made universes. And the rest of the world keeps walking forward like nothing’s coming. These months feel like watching someone slowly spiral out of control.

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“The higher the tower, the less you hear the cracks in the foundation.”

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Nationalist rhetoric grows louder in these chapters. Even artists and writers start getting pulled into it. The Austro-Hungarian empire is clearly weakening, and Germany’s militarism is no longer just beneath the surface. It’s becoming hard to ignore.

There’s a clear echo in today’s politics. Nationalism still rises quietly, often wrapped in ideas like pride, tradition, or the promise of order. You can see it in places like India, Hungary, and even in certain U.S. states. In 1913, the political center was starting to fall apart. Now, it feels like it may already be gone.

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or Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring had already sparked a riot earlier that year, but in September and October, its impact still hangs in the air. Illies brings it back as a symbol. No one knew how to handle something that bold and unfamiliar.

There’s a clear modern comparison. We react the same way to disruptive technologies such as AI, crypto, digital surveillance. They feel exciting, terrifying, and impossible to avoid. Stravinsky reshaped music completely.

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“They said they were protecting the nation. What they meant was controlling it.”

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Royal hunting party - depicting those that Royalty had in 1913

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In these chapters, Illies shows a sharp and unsettling picture of the ruling class. They stay fixated on prestige, fashion, and social events, acting as if war could never reach them. The aristocracy still believes in its own invincibility. The warning signs are clear, but they choose not to see them.

There’s a familiar pattern here. It echoes the early reactions to the pandemic, or the way climate reports are shrugged off while billionaires plan escaped to Mars.

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Kafka didn’t write to fix the world. He wrote to survive it.

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Illies doesn’t give us a neat ending. The final entry is mundane: gossip, letters, events. But we know what’s coming. That tension is the real ending. The characters in this book don’t get a conclusion. Only we do, because we know what is coming.

History repeats itself. Think of tech founders in late 2021. Wall Street in late 2007. Diplomats in 1938. Everyone thinks they’re in control until suddenly they aren’t. That's what makes 1913 so eerie...no one got a proper goodbye.

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It ends here. They don't get a conclusion really, although we know the full extent of what is in store for them.

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In December, society still functions. People shop for Christmas. Politicians shake hands. The newspapers report small scandals.

My modern parallel: This is exactly how 2019 felt before COVID. Or how 2007 felt before the housing crash. It’s the illusion of control...the belief that because life looks normal, it is normal. I feel we also find ourselves doing this to ourselves on purpose to avoid reality or the heavy hitting truths of life.

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Incredible book, I didn't expect it to change me as a person as much as it did. Touching.

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“It was still possible to believe in the future — but only if you refused to look too closely.”

Illies doesn’t treat these final chapters like a typical ending. There’s no grand conclusion, no revolution, no breaking point. Just a slow drift into darkness. Life keeps going as if 1913 will stretch on forever. Kafka is still writing his letters. Klimt is still painting. Diplomats are still raising their glasses. On the surface, everything feels alive. But underneath, already dead.

This part isn’t really about endings. It’s about all the moments that slipped by unnoticed. The collapse wasn’t loud, but crept in quietly.