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Of Canetti's three volumes of memoirs, this is the most useful and widely appealing. The first volume is strictly about his family--well written but of narrow interest. This second volume covers the artistic ferment of 1920s Vienna and Berlin. Everything is fresh and beautifully rendered, but the finest section concerns his time in Berlin in 1928. At that point Canetti was a humble unpublished writer lucky enough to meet everybody. His profiles of Brecht, Grosz, and Isaac Babel are extraordinary, particularly because there is so much action and dialogue to supplement his acute judgments. But in the third volume, "Play of the Eyes," he is now an ambitious writer and completely full of himself. The tone becomes sour and self-referential and his portraits of other writers like Broch and Joyce say little and do so patronizingly. If you want anything beyond Canetti himself, the third volume is worthless. For best results, concentrate on the Berlin section of this second volume: a really tasty slice of life in that time and place.