Vilikovský's modest sceptical, post-modern "realism" does not feign, but simply knows. It knows that experience of the world cannot be substituted although it can be invented. His stories are perhaps more warnings against the invention of illusory beauty to please the senses that somehow would like to gain its effect through its unambiguous speech. The manner of Vilikovský's word is manner of not going mad from scepticism and preserving the dignity of a human being despite the fact we have despoiled the world with tales where words say one thing and mean another and you walk upon it untouchable.
Vilikovský as usual does not try for a "pure story" at all. He plays with motifs so for
a while we are minded to believe in the sacrosanct nature of his stroll with existential mastery on a station platform only to glimpse suddenly a cloven of the author's licence. The protagonists in which the author tests the capacity of word or motif are repeated in all the stories of The Cruel Engine Driver and the result is an ironical scepticism. Not a scepticism that is heavy and depressed but knowing that the word spoken with tongue and written by hand can express a reality only based on conventions, which people have agreed among each other and which they are willing to accept.