❝Few things are so unkind as one's most restless thoughts.❞
❝ Then I awoke, and knew not whether to throw myself into the sea or to live on and make the best of it. ❞ — The Odyssey
In a labor independent of his current university connections, one Dr. I. Rochat has acquired, translated, and annotated a journal from the mid-18th century. Collected in this volume are the memoirs of an apothecary living in a small Swiss town of which no other record exists.
Professor Rochat provides an introduction to the text, as well as numerous footnotes, additions, and a brief selection of appendices. With regards to what he dubs "the Lundberg account," he notes, "It is the most quiet chronicle of a such long and terrible struggle; I merely wish to amplify its voice."
Erlebnisse is a postmodern horror novel which follows the first-person narratives of two dubiously-reliable narrators living centuries apart. The Lundberg account is the primary focus of the novel, but these memoirs are supplemented by frequent and often autobiographical interjections from Rochat, as well as brief notes, transcripts, and correspondences from others, some of which reference fictional media and events.
Look forward to the foreword! An excerpt of Erlebnisse will be available on this site in 2017.
18th Century ✾
Anselm Lundberg An ostracized apothecary tormented by dreadful night terrors. His memoirs are the basis of the novel.
Liesel A stray cattledog adopted by Lundberg. She may have been similar to an early Appenzeller Sennenhund.
The Townspeople The residents of the town Lundberg refers to as "Davoshelm." Many are wary of him, some are actively hostile to him, and fewer still are kind to him.
21st Century ✾
Ivor Rochat Responsible for re-discovering, preserving, and annotating Lundberg's memoirs. A volkskunde enthusiast and a professor of Social Sciences and Philosophy.
Contacts & Colleagues The cast of Rochat's "Acknowledgments" section - other with whom he consults and engages while working with Lundberg's journal.
"I awakened to the sound of fell voices, or so I believed at the time. Rushing whispers closed over my head and I went limp, afloat in noise, utterly weightless and timeless and still. It was a long moment of breathlessness until I understood what had happened. I would have cried out, but those voices, deft as never before, crept into my mouth and made my tongue their own.
I lost myself for a time, then; I fainted, and recovered myself to find that night had fallen and the water had crept in— and with it had come greater and more terrible voices than before."