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Three Eerie Tales from 19th Century German
Prosaic lives take on an enigmatic and wider meaning in these three suberb talkes. They go beyond the everyday world to illuminate man's place in a strange and mysterious universe. The Black Spider, Jeremias The Devil's revenge for being deceived is at the core of this masterly Swiss narrative. An intricate structure, sexual symbolism, and unerring characterization makes this a brilliant example of its genre. The Jews' Beech Tree, Annette von Droste-Hulshoff Based on an actual occurence, this dramatic tale of remorse and expiation anticipated aspects of a much later literary approach. Its author is Germany's geratest poetess. The Rider On The White House, Theodor Storm, With haunting ambience, this famous novella re-creates a legendary figure out of Storm's childhood. In his struggle against society, the protagonist, like some Shakespearean heroes, is destroyed by an excess of his own best qualities. Eathly existence, the authors of these stories attest, is but one aspect of a wider reality. These errie tales are indeed fascinating explorations of man's world.
- GenresHorror
272 pages, Paperback
First published June 1, 1975
About the author
Jeremias Gotthelf
490 books29 followersHe was born at Murten, where his father was pastor. In 1804 the home was moved to Utzenstorf, a village in the Bernese Emmental. Here young Bitzius grew up, receiving his early education and consorting with the boys of the village, as well as helping his father to cultivate his glebe. In 1812 he went to complete his education at Bern. He was a founding member of the Student Society Zofingia, the second-oldest fraternity in Switzerland (founded in 1819).
In 1820 he was received as a pastor. In 1821 he visited the University of Göttingen, but returned home in 1822 to act as his father's assistant. On his father's death (1824) he went in the same capacity to Herzogenbuchsee, and later to Bern (1829). Early in 1831 he went as assistant to the aged pastor of the village of Lützelflüh, in the Lower Emmental (between Langnau and Burgdorf), being soon elected his successor (1832) and marrying one of his granddaughters (1833).
He spent the rest of his life in Lützelflüh, where he died, leaving three children (the son was a pastor, the two daughters married pastors). During the 1840s, he steadfastly opposed radicalism and secularism and placed a conservative emphasis on piety and ecclesiastical authority. There are lives of Bitzius by C. Manuel, in the Berlin edition of Bitzius's works (Berlin, 1861), and by J. Ammann in vol. i. (Bern, 1884) of the Sammlung Bernischer Biographien.
He started writing late in life. His first work, the Der Bauernspiegel, oder die Lebensgeschichte des Jeremias Gotthelf, appeared in 1837. It purported to be the life of Jeremias Gotthelf, narrated by himself, and this name was later adopted by the author as his pen name. It sketches the development of a poor country orphan boy, but is not an autobiography. It is a living picture of Bernese (or, strictly speaking, Emmental) village life, true to nature, and not attempting to gloss over its defects and failings. It is written (like the rest of his works) in German, but contains expressions from the Bernese dialect of the Emmental, though Bitzius was not (like Auerbach) a peasant by birth, but belonged to the educated classes, so that he reproduces what he had seen and learnt, and not what he had himself personally experienced. The book was a great success, as it was a picture of real life, and not of fancifully beribboned eighteenth-century villagers. Henceforth Bitzius was a prolific writer, and in the last 18 years of his life became one of the important novelists not only of Switzerland but of the German language in general.
Commemorative plaque at his birth house in Murten/Morat
His best known work is without doubt the short novel The Black Spider (Die schwarze Spinne), a semi-allegorical tale of the plague in form of the titular monster that devastates a Swiss valley community; first as a result of a pact with the devil born out of need and a second time due to the moral decay that releases the monster from its prison again.
Among his later tales are the Leiden und Freuden eines Schulmeisters (1838–1839), Uli der Knecht (The story of a poor peasant laborer who develops into the owner of a prosperous farm; 1841), with its continuation, Uli der Pächter (1849), Anne-Bäbi Jowäger (1843–1844), Käthi, die Großmutter (1846), Die Käserei in der Vehfreude (1850), and the Erlebnisse eines Schuldenbauers (1853). He also published several volumes of shorter tales.
His works were issued in 24 vols. at Berlin, 1856–1861, while 10 vols., giving the original text of each story, were issued at Bern, 1898–1900.
In 1820 he was received as a pastor. In 1821 he visited the University of Göttingen, but returned home in 1822 to act as his father's assistant. On his father's death (1824) he went in the same capacity to Herzogenbuchsee, and later to Bern (1829). Early in 1831 he went as assistant to the aged pastor of the village of Lützelflüh, in the Lower Emmental (between Langnau and Burgdorf), being soon elected his successor (1832) and marrying one of his granddaughters (1833).
He spent the rest of his life in Lützelflüh, where he died, leaving three children (the son was a pastor, the two daughters married pastors). During the 1840s, he steadfastly opposed radicalism and secularism and placed a conservative emphasis on piety and ecclesiastical authority. There are lives of Bitzius by C. Manuel, in the Berlin edition of Bitzius's works (Berlin, 1861), and by J. Ammann in vol. i. (Bern, 1884) of the Sammlung Bernischer Biographien.
He started writing late in life. His first work, the Der Bauernspiegel, oder die Lebensgeschichte des Jeremias Gotthelf, appeared in 1837. It purported to be the life of Jeremias Gotthelf, narrated by himself, and this name was later adopted by the author as his pen name. It sketches the development of a poor country orphan boy, but is not an autobiography. It is a living picture of Bernese (or, strictly speaking, Emmental) village life, true to nature, and not attempting to gloss over its defects and failings. It is written (like the rest of his works) in German, but contains expressions from the Bernese dialect of the Emmental, though Bitzius was not (like Auerbach) a peasant by birth, but belonged to the educated classes, so that he reproduces what he had seen and learnt, and not what he had himself personally experienced. The book was a great success, as it was a picture of real life, and not of fancifully beribboned eighteenth-century villagers. Henceforth Bitzius was a prolific writer, and in the last 18 years of his life became one of the important novelists not only of Switzerland but of the German language in general.
Commemorative plaque at his birth house in Murten/Morat
His best known work is without doubt the short novel The Black Spider (Die schwarze Spinne), a semi-allegorical tale of the plague in form of the titular monster that devastates a Swiss valley community; first as a result of a pact with the devil born out of need and a second time due to the moral decay that releases the monster from its prison again.
Among his later tales are the Leiden und Freuden eines Schulmeisters (1838–1839), Uli der Knecht (The story of a poor peasant laborer who develops into the owner of a prosperous farm; 1841), with its continuation, Uli der Pächter (1849), Anne-Bäbi Jowäger (1843–1844), Käthi, die Großmutter (1846), Die Käserei in der Vehfreude (1850), and the Erlebnisse eines Schuldenbauers (1853). He also published several volumes of shorter tales.
His works were issued in 24 vols. at Berlin, 1856–1861, while 10 vols., giving the original text of each story, were issued at Bern, 1898–1900.
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
May 22, 2016
Quick point 1: I always take notes when I'm reading, to help me compose my reviews, and while that's supremely helpful, the truth I'm finding is that if I don't get to the review within a week or so of the reading (which happened in this case because I've been extremely busy with many things), I worry that the review from notes ends up being a little...stale? dry? Eh, well, anyway, that's by way of a vague apology.
Quick point 2: Since holding a reader's attention becomes a more difficult proposition in this day and age, I've recently instituted a tiered system to my reviews - a shortened condensation up front, and then the full review (probably of more interest to this who have read the work) - which I'll be applying from time to time if the length warrants it.
So, here's a re-read on my part as the endless flood of modern fictions submissions (for the PSEUDOPOD horror fiction podcast which I co-edit) and the 1940s-1950s era fiction I edit at my day job at times makes me pine for older fiction, which I find challenges me a bit more as a reader.
SHORT VERSION - modern readers expecting "horror" should probably adjust their expectations. Still, Jeremias Gotthelf's "The Black Spider" is a definite must read, as a malignant, demonic force runs rampant through a "pious" community - something like a Christian fable spiced with moments of evil and surprising body-horror (believe it or not)! Those intrigued, and who have a taste for vaguer, more evocative weird tales, might find a lot to like in "The Jew's Beech Tree" by Annette von Droste-Hülshoff. Only Theodor Storm's "The Rider On The White Horse" disappoints - and if you dig reading about details of small-town community life, there's things to enjoy there as well.
This is a collection of three novella-length works "from 19th Century German", like it says on the cover (cool pseudo-woodcut cover, btw, with great colors). The three pieces are not just related chronologically and geographically, but stylistically as well, as Edward Mornin's excellent introduction makes apparent. What you're getting here are three examples of "poetic realism" - loosely defined as the product of German writers wrestling with the stylistic advances made by Dickens, Zola and Balzac, et. al.. - but *tilted* by the fact that Germany had not undergone the economic booms of London and Paris, so "realism" is manifested in a provincial, small-scale, prosaic concentration on life's details, but the writing is still concerned with "larger truths", rather than the character's subjective experiences.
In "The Black Spider", Jeremias Gotthelf (a pastor), weaves a tale of a small mountain village that begins with a careful rendering of all the sundry details that made up a baptism ceremony at the time - crowds of village folk, fulsome praise, carefully prepared and deployed food, alcohol, etc. Someone asks why an old window post, with a conspicuously stoppered hole, was incorporated into his building and therein hangs a tale of long ago... A tale of Hans Von Stofflen, a Teutonic Knight and wealthy land-holder who "knew not the needs of poor men" and so demanded a "shady walk" be prepared to his castle, which meant the peasants had to dig up, transport and replant, full healthy trees (and, by Von Stofflen's demand, in a unrealistic amount of time). But a mysterious huntsman, "clad in green", appeared and offered to complete the task in a blink, provided he is supplied with "an unbaptized child". The pious peasants balk, but Christine (one of the wives) meets the Huntsman to negotiate better terms and agrees to the offer, planning on tricking the Huntsman by making sure all the town's babies get baptized as soon as they are born, thus foiling the deal. But this sets into a motion a chain of events that curses the town with a ravening horde of poisonous spiders that lay waste to the cattle and countryside. The villagers try to figure out a solution to their conundrum, but as it progresses, the spiders manifest (in a vividly gruesome, action-filled scene) into one huge Spider that now begins wantonly killing townspeople with its burning venom. Eventually a trap (if not a solution) is enacted, but while the town resumes its normal life and years pass, the villagers eventually backslide in their piousness and the Spider (which was never defeated, but only held in abeyance) returns again until the same sacrifice must be made to trap it.
This is a really enjoyable read, and it surprises at almost every turn. In truth, it's slow to start, but then the scene needs to be set to present the contemporary situation, as it will contrast and compliment the historical scenes. Trust me, there's a lot of strong moments encompassing tropes like body horror (a birthmark that erupts into the initial horde of spiders), classic "deal with the devil" scenarios (a pact not sealed in blood but merely with a kiss!), mob logic (the town eventually capitulating to the idea that they must give the Devil a baby), Christian fable (a wonderfully understated scene in which a toddler on a mission of mercy is escorted by wild animals), sacrifice (a mother's noble struggle ends, in a nicely succinct scene, with her ascension to heaven) and violent action (the Spider must be engaged physically!) and shock horror (the malignant, glowering, giant black spider marauding the countryside and wiping out lone travelers, valiant knights and a whole compliment of warriors essentially transforms the narrative, unexpectedly, into something like an 18th Century Christian Fable crossed with a 1950s B-monster movie!). Of course, it's in service of moral lessons about Christianity and staying on the narrow path, but the conception is subtle and complicated and never didactic. One can trace the chain of events but it is never traced FOR the reader. The first sequence (the arrogant, thoughtless Knight, the tempted townsfolk who try to trick the Devil, the moral responsibility the whole town has incurred, the eventual cycling back to a comeuppance for the pleasure-loving Knight and his retinue) dovetails nicely into the second sequence, which is closer in time and, so, complicated with some psychological observations (the community has never actually discharged its responsibility for the sin and so it must always be guarded against, waiting to re-surge at the merest laxness - here marked by the rise of vanity, materialism, gluttony and irreligiousness and, in particular, the unsupervised servants who make a "game" of threatening the Spider's wrathful return - I smiled warmly that the book's previous owner had underlined that particular passage) when on Christmas Eve (no less) the revelers must endure more carnage. A thoroughly worthy read, it was adapted into two operas (1936, 1983) and filmed twice (under Die Schwartze Spinne, natch): as a silent in 1921 and again in 1983, but I've seen neither of those (although I'd like to, it really is a text ripe for visual treatment).
"The Jew's Beech Tree" is based on a supposed true event, here fictionalized. Annette von Droste-Hülshoff adds a bit more psychological understanding to her characters than the previous story (and with a sharper economy of style), as we are introduced to Friedrich, the son of an abusive, alcoholic father and a long-suffering mother, eventually (after the father's death) taken under the wing of his ne'er-do-well Uncle Simon, who finds him employment (as a cattle-herder, a job for someone older than he), introduces him to drink and fashion (he becomes a bit of a dandy), interrogates him on his religious beliefs and teams him with the strangely taciturn Johannes Nobody (who in some way is Friedrich's doppelganger). Meanwhile, timber thieves (the Blue Smocks) plague the local forests and murder the local forest warden, while Friedrich is openly mocked at a community dance by a Jewish money-lender, who is also later found dead under a beech tree - upon which Friedrich and Johannes disappear from the town. 30-odd years later, Johannes (or is it?) returns as a broken man, and his eventual fate devolves into a return to the self-same beech tree. This is a very odd story and seems, as the introduction points out, to be deliberately seeded with irrational, illogical details that serve to undermine the belief that rationality can fully encompass the unfathomable world of men and their actions. Small details (Friedrich's father drowns in the swamp and is rumored to become a will-of-the-wisp who leads drunks astray; Uncle Simon's vague intimations of irreligious beliefs, the odd figure of the submissive, inarticulate Johannes Nobody, truly a pathetic figure by the end) make this an intriguing read, filled with more questions than answers (although the long build up to a rather rapid denouement works somewhat against it).
Theodor Storm's "The Rider On The White Horse" finishes the book with the recounting of a 100-year-old fable that illuminates the background of a ghostly horseman figure seen desperately riding the earthen dikes on stormy, destructive evenings. We meet Hauke Haien, and follow as he grows from an observant, rational boy into a respected man, the Dikegrave of the Fresia area whose job it is to oversee the maintenance and repair of the enormous dikes which hold back the destructive sea and reclaim land for use in planting and harvesting crops. We follow his romancing and marriage to Elke, and the birth of their "slow" daughter, as well as Hauke's hubris in constructing an enormous new dike to reclaim even more land - which eventually results in his downfall. It's not a bad story - little touches like young Hauke reading Euclid and deducing the dikes are incorrectly built (as well as identifying that the locally feared "sea ghosts" are just herons misperceived in the twilight), his vengeful murder of an old woman's cat, the details of a game of "Eisboseln" (essentially, ice-golf), and Hauke's rejection of the folkloric sacrificial custom of burying a live dog in the new earthen construction are all interesting details. But the "eerie" elements are sparse - only the desperate ghostly rider and the initial appearance of a spectral, disappearing white horse on a remote island - and the story works better as a snapshot of regional life than a fable.
Quick point 2: Since holding a reader's attention becomes a more difficult proposition in this day and age, I've recently instituted a tiered system to my reviews - a shortened condensation up front, and then the full review (probably of more interest to this who have read the work) - which I'll be applying from time to time if the length warrants it.
So, here's a re-read on my part as the endless flood of modern fictions submissions (for the PSEUDOPOD horror fiction podcast which I co-edit) and the 1940s-1950s era fiction I edit at my day job at times makes me pine for older fiction, which I find challenges me a bit more as a reader.
SHORT VERSION - modern readers expecting "horror" should probably adjust their expectations. Still, Jeremias Gotthelf's "The Black Spider" is a definite must read, as a malignant, demonic force runs rampant through a "pious" community - something like a Christian fable spiced with moments of evil and surprising body-horror (believe it or not)! Those intrigued, and who have a taste for vaguer, more evocative weird tales, might find a lot to like in "The Jew's Beech Tree" by Annette von Droste-Hülshoff. Only Theodor Storm's "The Rider On The White Horse" disappoints - and if you dig reading about details of small-town community life, there's things to enjoy there as well.
This is a collection of three novella-length works "from 19th Century German", like it says on the cover (cool pseudo-woodcut cover, btw, with great colors). The three pieces are not just related chronologically and geographically, but stylistically as well, as Edward Mornin's excellent introduction makes apparent. What you're getting here are three examples of "poetic realism" - loosely defined as the product of German writers wrestling with the stylistic advances made by Dickens, Zola and Balzac, et. al.. - but *tilted* by the fact that Germany had not undergone the economic booms of London and Paris, so "realism" is manifested in a provincial, small-scale, prosaic concentration on life's details, but the writing is still concerned with "larger truths", rather than the character's subjective experiences.
In "The Black Spider", Jeremias Gotthelf (a pastor), weaves a tale of a small mountain village that begins with a careful rendering of all the sundry details that made up a baptism ceremony at the time - crowds of village folk, fulsome praise, carefully prepared and deployed food, alcohol, etc. Someone asks why an old window post, with a conspicuously stoppered hole, was incorporated into his building and therein hangs a tale of long ago... A tale of Hans Von Stofflen, a Teutonic Knight and wealthy land-holder who "knew not the needs of poor men" and so demanded a "shady walk" be prepared to his castle, which meant the peasants had to dig up, transport and replant, full healthy trees (and, by Von Stofflen's demand, in a unrealistic amount of time). But a mysterious huntsman, "clad in green", appeared and offered to complete the task in a blink, provided he is supplied with "an unbaptized child". The pious peasants balk, but Christine (one of the wives) meets the Huntsman to negotiate better terms and agrees to the offer, planning on tricking the Huntsman by making sure all the town's babies get baptized as soon as they are born, thus foiling the deal. But this sets into a motion a chain of events that curses the town with a ravening horde of poisonous spiders that lay waste to the cattle and countryside. The villagers try to figure out a solution to their conundrum, but as it progresses, the spiders manifest (in a vividly gruesome, action-filled scene) into one huge Spider that now begins wantonly killing townspeople with its burning venom. Eventually a trap (if not a solution) is enacted, but while the town resumes its normal life and years pass, the villagers eventually backslide in their piousness and the Spider (which was never defeated, but only held in abeyance) returns again until the same sacrifice must be made to trap it.
This is a really enjoyable read, and it surprises at almost every turn. In truth, it's slow to start, but then the scene needs to be set to present the contemporary situation, as it will contrast and compliment the historical scenes. Trust me, there's a lot of strong moments encompassing tropes like body horror (a birthmark that erupts into the initial horde of spiders), classic "deal with the devil" scenarios (a pact not sealed in blood but merely with a kiss!), mob logic (the town eventually capitulating to the idea that they must give the Devil a baby), Christian fable (a wonderfully understated scene in which a toddler on a mission of mercy is escorted by wild animals), sacrifice (a mother's noble struggle ends, in a nicely succinct scene, with her ascension to heaven) and violent action (the Spider must be engaged physically!) and shock horror (the malignant, glowering, giant black spider marauding the countryside and wiping out lone travelers, valiant knights and a whole compliment of warriors essentially transforms the narrative, unexpectedly, into something like an 18th Century Christian Fable crossed with a 1950s B-monster movie!). Of course, it's in service of moral lessons about Christianity and staying on the narrow path, but the conception is subtle and complicated and never didactic. One can trace the chain of events but it is never traced FOR the reader. The first sequence (the arrogant, thoughtless Knight, the tempted townsfolk who try to trick the Devil, the moral responsibility the whole town has incurred, the eventual cycling back to a comeuppance for the pleasure-loving Knight and his retinue) dovetails nicely into the second sequence, which is closer in time and, so, complicated with some psychological observations (the community has never actually discharged its responsibility for the sin and so it must always be guarded against, waiting to re-surge at the merest laxness - here marked by the rise of vanity, materialism, gluttony and irreligiousness and, in particular, the unsupervised servants who make a "game" of threatening the Spider's wrathful return - I smiled warmly that the book's previous owner had underlined that particular passage) when on Christmas Eve (no less) the revelers must endure more carnage. A thoroughly worthy read, it was adapted into two operas (1936, 1983) and filmed twice (under Die Schwartze Spinne, natch): as a silent in 1921 and again in 1983, but I've seen neither of those (although I'd like to, it really is a text ripe for visual treatment).
"The Jew's Beech Tree" is based on a supposed true event, here fictionalized. Annette von Droste-Hülshoff adds a bit more psychological understanding to her characters than the previous story (and with a sharper economy of style), as we are introduced to Friedrich, the son of an abusive, alcoholic father and a long-suffering mother, eventually (after the father's death) taken under the wing of his ne'er-do-well Uncle Simon, who finds him employment (as a cattle-herder, a job for someone older than he), introduces him to drink and fashion (he becomes a bit of a dandy), interrogates him on his religious beliefs and teams him with the strangely taciturn Johannes Nobody (who in some way is Friedrich's doppelganger). Meanwhile, timber thieves (the Blue Smocks) plague the local forests and murder the local forest warden, while Friedrich is openly mocked at a community dance by a Jewish money-lender, who is also later found dead under a beech tree - upon which Friedrich and Johannes disappear from the town. 30-odd years later, Johannes (or is it?) returns as a broken man, and his eventual fate devolves into a return to the self-same beech tree. This is a very odd story and seems, as the introduction points out, to be deliberately seeded with irrational, illogical details that serve to undermine the belief that rationality can fully encompass the unfathomable world of men and their actions. Small details (Friedrich's father drowns in the swamp and is rumored to become a will-of-the-wisp who leads drunks astray; Uncle Simon's vague intimations of irreligious beliefs, the odd figure of the submissive, inarticulate Johannes Nobody, truly a pathetic figure by the end) make this an intriguing read, filled with more questions than answers (although the long build up to a rather rapid denouement works somewhat against it).
Theodor Storm's "The Rider On The White Horse" finishes the book with the recounting of a 100-year-old fable that illuminates the background of a ghostly horseman figure seen desperately riding the earthen dikes on stormy, destructive evenings. We meet Hauke Haien, and follow as he grows from an observant, rational boy into a respected man, the Dikegrave of the Fresia area whose job it is to oversee the maintenance and repair of the enormous dikes which hold back the destructive sea and reclaim land for use in planting and harvesting crops. We follow his romancing and marriage to Elke, and the birth of their "slow" daughter, as well as Hauke's hubris in constructing an enormous new dike to reclaim even more land - which eventually results in his downfall. It's not a bad story - little touches like young Hauke reading Euclid and deducing the dikes are incorrectly built (as well as identifying that the locally feared "sea ghosts" are just herons misperceived in the twilight), his vengeful murder of an old woman's cat, the details of a game of "Eisboseln" (essentially, ice-golf), and Hauke's rejection of the folkloric sacrificial custom of burying a live dog in the new earthen construction are all interesting details. But the "eerie" elements are sparse - only the desperate ghostly rider and the initial appearance of a spectral, disappearing white horse on a remote island - and the story works better as a snapshot of regional life than a fable.
June 20, 2013
I read this hella ago but I wanted to throw a review up 'cause a new translation of the first story is coming out via NYRB pretty soon. Unless you are reading this hella from now and it's already out. So yeah. Cool. The Black Spider is tight. The rest of the stories in this are super fucking cool too, but for real, The Black Spider stands out like woah. There is this spider (black!) that comes out of this girl's face. She also carries around a bloody baby at one point. Satan kills a priest and ride a flaming goat into the sky. I'm pretty sure he wears an all green outfit too, but that might be another story. Anywho, it's really fucking cool. The other stories are cool too but I'm not going to write anymore right now because my friend is texting me. Maybe later but probably not.
July 25, 2008
Contains three extraordinarily rich novellas on supernatural themes:
Jeremias Gotthelf "The Black Spider"
Annette con Droste-Hülshoff "The Jew's Beech Tree"
Theodor Storm "The Rider on the White Horse"
Jeremias Gotthelf "The Black Spider"
Annette con Droste-Hülshoff "The Jew's Beech Tree"
Theodor Storm "The Rider on the White Horse"
July 8, 2019
four stars is only for The Black Spider--I didn't read the other two novellas in this book. but The Black Spider is an interesting mash-up of Christian morality fable and pre-Lovecraftian weird tale. perhaps a surprisingly early example of body horror? also a bit sexist in parts but it's from 1842, so... enjoyable supernatural story overall.
November 5, 2015
as the title says, we have three stories here, gotthelf's "the black spider", droste-hülshoff's "the jew's beech tree", and storm's "the rider on the white horse". "the black spider" is easily the best of the lot, a pretty grim tale of the devil terrorizing a bunch of peasants trying to get free labor, and when they don't comply 100% with his demands a bunch of spiders get released. not even the morality play bits at the end can bring this one down. "the jew's beech tree" is a fictionalized account of an unsolved mysteries type story involving a few murders and is just ok. "the rider on the white horse" is an eerie spooker involving dutch dikes and the surging wrath of the sea, appropriately written by someone named "storm". i think my only other experience with german literature at this point is the nibelungenlied which is obviously completely different than these. would like to drill down deeper at some point
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews