The story begins with a dull, routine description of Schroeder’s morning, only to quickly spiral into a violent killing spree, broken up by moments when he bikes around the city. During these bike rides, he shares thoughts, memories, and impressions inspired by his surroundings. It feels like watching someone in a video game, moving from one task to another, but without understanding why, and the violence is hard to follow at first.

At first, it’s difficult to keep up with Schroeder’s seemingly chaotic actions and the stream-of-consciousness style in which they’re described. The sentences are long, tangled, and sometimes absurd, reflecting his damaged cognitive function and hyperactive thought process. However, as the novel progresses, you start to see beneath the surface of his actions, and the chaos becomes oddly compelling, even relatable in its own way.

The true weight of Schroeder’s story is revealed in the final pages, through a diary that shares his experiences growing up. It shows a painful childhood full of neglect and abuse, both at home and in school. This is the key to understanding why Schroeder turned into the person he is—his violence stems from a deep well of unresolved pain and trauma. The last page leaves a bitter, sad feeling, as you finally grasp what has driven him to this point. It becomes clear that the violence isn’t senseless, but rather a tragic consequence of his suffering.

The book also makes you reflect on your own life. In a way, it reminds you of those common regrets people have later in life—wishing they had traveled more, stayed true to themselves, or spent less time worrying about things that don’t matter. Schroeder, much like those regretful individuals, shows what can happen when pain is left unaddressed.

In the end, Schroeder isn’t just a dark, chaotic story—it’s a reflection on the consequences of our actions, both big and small. It makes you think about how the choices we make affect not just ourselves but those around us.