As Steven Beller points out, writing a concise history of Austria is “more problematic than might at first appear” (xiii). In part, this stems from the challenge posed by having to master the art of conciseness itself with its demand that the author develop a clear and unwavering focus on the subject matter lest what should be a brief and pithy account of the past become a long and verbose one. Meeting this challenge is not made easier by the fact that most of the standard histories of Austria are anything but concise. Indeed, the newest and one of the best among such works, the series published by Ueberreuter, has reached a length of thirteen volumes. For a historian to opt for brevity in this field is to swim against the historiographical tide, not least of which because what constitutes Austrian history has usually included large portions of the history of those states once part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Looked at from that standpoint, length meant inclusiveness and was a virtue rather than a failing. With brevity as the guiding mandate from his publisher, however, Beller has made a virtue out of necessity. By concentrating his story as closely as possible to what is relevant to the formation of the country known today as Austria, Beller has managed to avoid a multinational emphasis. At the same time, he has acknowledged the diverse historical experiences that have formed the character and identity of this Alpine republic.

Beller sees the central theme of Austrian history as a search for identity. From the disputed nationality of the prehistoric remains of Ötzi, the “iceman,” to the contemporary Austrian unease with aspects of its membership in the European Union, ambivalence and uncertainty stalked the land. Certainly, a history that since Roman times has involved changing conquerors, borders, and rulers has not made for an unbroken course of development. Only in the longevity of its dynasties, the Babenbergs and the Habsburgs, can long-term continuities be claimed, especially under the reign of the latter. It was the dogged ambition and remarkable fecundity of the Habsburgs that made of Austria a stable imperium in which, despite its eleven ethnic groups, the inhabitants of its core provinces could lay claim to be imperial representatives of Germandom. After 1918, both empire and Germanic pride were at a discount with republicanism and a cobbled-together Austrian-ness being but poor and largely unappealing substitutes. The Nazi alternative of 1938–1945 turned out to be even worse, but had the saving grace of demonstrating that Austrians were Germans of a different sort from their cousins in the Reich and in need of their own country, after all. To smooth the way to that end the postwar leadership deftly identified with the Allied designation of Austria as the first victim of Nazism and then maneuvered its occupiers out of its territory to begin a new and prosperous national life in which the unpleasantness of the recent past was masked by the likes of Mozart and Franz Joseph. Alas, history can also be nemesis and since the 1980s the “Waldheim Affair,” the fluctuations of Jörg Haider's yuppie Fascism, and the insistence that the fate of Austro-Nazism's Jewish victims be recognized has made Austrian identity no bed of roses, but even the pricking of thorns has its upside. Being forced to confront the shortcomings of their past and to think on the supranational accomplishments of their empire—this, for Beller, is the potential means of achieving a national “way into the open” (Weg ins Freie).

When the reader arrives at the conclusion of Beller's work, he or she cannot help but feel the author has successfully risen to the original challenge of being concise, but whether the “problematic” nature of writing a concise history has been entirely mastered is another issue. Covering two thousand years of history in fewer than 350 pages is a laudable accomplishment, but doing so means making choices of what to include and what to omit. In that process there is sin to be found both by inclusion and omission. Here it involves the minimizing of the Habsburg legacy, especially of the Rechtsstaat, and the overemphasis on a concept of the “modern” that takes on a panacea-like ability to resolve all Austria's contradictions through its supposedly more innately humanitarian nature. Pointing out such criticisms, however, underscores that the author has managed to write not simply a concise history, but also an interpretive one that can serve as a starting point for stimulating argument.