In breadth and consistency, Schnitzler's diary is among the most significant of German and European literature. In 2000, the Austrian Academy of Sciences finished its project of publishing the ten 400 to 500 page volumes of Schnitzler's diary, having started in 1981 to bring order to his entries between 1879 and his death in 1931. Predictably, easier access to the diary confirmed the suspicion that Schnitzler brooded over concerns far more multifarious than love and death, something astute readers had known for decades. Beyond serving to support interpretations of texts or to prove Schnitzler was capable of diversity, the diary became an object of scrutiny in its own right, reflecting a determination, especially in Vienna, to prove that this man's legacy was worth preserving. The discipline demanded by such prolific journal writing could alter the image of a man so long considered impressionistic before the First World War and out of step afterwards. What has been shown to be consistent and trustworthy is, after all, worth preserving. In the scholarship that discusses Schnitzler the diarist and autobiographer, or in the biographical approaches that rely on these genres, an ambivalent fascination has emerged not always to the liking of Schnitzler aficionados. The turn toward non-fiction has shone the spotlight more brightly on Schnitzler's complexity, but also on his pathologies.

The Diary Project (1981–2000)

Schnitzler's diary wrote predictability into his life as a bulwark against the unpredictable. Made credible by excruciating self-honesty, the diary became his anchor against an experience of slippage rivaling that of his characters.