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40 pages, Paperback
Published April 1, 2021
...whose only "acquaintance and friends" are the crags and chasms and vast vistas of the perilous heights:O the mountains, rivers, rocks and plains, which ages had familiariz'd to my view! With you I seemed at home; here [awake] I am like a banish'd man; every thing appears strange, wild and savage! […]How one blast of wind dashed you to pieces! (26)If Sterne is as bereft to awake from all of this as Jean Paul is in his own first piece, in his second, "The Dead Christ Proclaims That There is No God" is a true nightmare, one which begins thusly:
When we are told in childhood that, at midnight, when sleep draws near to our souls and darkens our dreams, the dead arise from their sleep and in churches act out the masses of the living, we shudder then at death, on account of the dead; and in the lonliness of night we turn our eyes in terror from the tall windows of the silent church, fearful to examine whether the glitter comes from the moonlight, or from something else.Hint: it's something else, all right, one which ends as all dreams do, with morning, but which in this particular case harrows the dreaming souls of writer and reader alike a-meanwhile, with the dead Son declaiming in frankly quite spectacular writing that He has no heavenly Father, at all—and nor do we. Instead, it's all just "the nothingness and boundless void, saying, "O dead dumb nothingness! Eternal, cold Necessity! O mad Chance! When will you rend this fabric into atoms, and me as well?