When All the Days Have Gone

by Lars Boye Jerlach

When he is handed a collection of letters written by his predecessor, a gravedigger is rapidly immersed in a strange indeterminate narrative, that seems to overflow with mysterious characters and enigmatic apparitions.
The most ordinary of lives suddenly accelerates in stream of enticing illusions and surreal visions in which he inevitably comes to face his own deeply hidden secrets.

Genres: Fiction, Mystery, Horror, Magical Realism, Gothic, Denmark

220 pages, Paperback

First published November 1, 2017

About the author

Lars Boye Jerlach was born in Copenhagen, Denmark and has worked as an artist and professor of art for more than fifteen years.

After the last couple of decades traveling in Europe, the US and the Pacific, he now resides in Portland, Maine with his wife the British artist/ designer Helen Stringfellow and their three young daughters.

Reviews

[Jeffrey Keeten · Rating 5 out of 5]

”All you know and everything you will come to know will inevitably become part of your internal fabric. No matter what decisions you make; good, bad or insouciant, will shape your life much like a river cuts into the landscape. One thought is a fraction of all thoughts and one action is a fraction of all actions. The river broadens and narrows, curves and straightens, flattens and deepens but it’s always coming and always going. It deposits and redistributes everything you know and everything you need.”

Ambrosius is a gravedigger. An unusual profession and, as it turns out, a lonely profession. The mourners do not want to see him as his very presence reminds them that he will very shortly be scooping shovelfuls of soil on their recently departed beloved. It isn’t like someone will say, “Oh no, we are short one for dinner. Let's invite the gravedigger” (personally I’d find Ambrosius fascinating). Although from our perspective Ambrosius is a lonely man, he doesn’t seem to be adversely affected by being so. Lars Boye Jerlach’s protagonist for his first novel, The Somnambulist’s Dreams, is a lighthouse keeper who also has a lonely profession. I decided to ask the author about this lonely parallel between his two characters.

Jeffrey Keeten: In The Somnambulist's Dream, you had a protagonist who was a lighthouse keeper, and now in your new book When All the Days have Gone, you have a gravedigger as your protagonist. Both are in situations where they spend a great deal of time alone. They both are stimulated by letters left by a predecessor. So talk to me about the impact of being alone on the plotting of your novels?

Lars Boye Jerlach: "I believe I think about the idea of solitude/ loneliness a lot, not necessarily from personal experience, but more as a philosophical/ existential question of being. Deep down, I believe we are all alone, but that most of us have learned to either hide our solitude from others or live with others in our shared solitude. However, solitude/ loneliness is not only about being alone. I believe it’s a deeper, internal process and one that requires an internal exploration, a kind of forced mental labor, which can be uncomfortable, even sometimes excruciating. However, if you work hard enough, it does tend to become one of the most important relationships anybody ever has, the relationship one has with oneself."

I also wanted to explore the fact that Jerlach writes about these seemingly simple lives. By their choice of professions, they have eliminated a lot of the social aspects that the rest of us have to deal with every day.

Jeffrey Keeten: Your protagonists in both of your novels live relatively simple lives. I get the impression that you, too, would rather live in a simpler time or have a simpler life. Are you projecting those desires onto your writing?

Lars Boye Jerlach: "I believe there's an urge in everyone to somehow simplify their lives and to find relatively uncomplicated meaning in the chaos.....hence the prevalence for religiosity or indeed other non-theocratic belief systems. While I believe that there is really no 'simpler' time or even a simpler life, as the complexity of existence is entirely dependent on the internalization and analysis of the intellectual output, I do readily admit that I project my own enervated desires onto my writing. The inherent problem is that simplicity very often equals complexity, i.e: what qualifies as an empty space? The question seems simple enough, and yet it's very difficult to answer."

Ambrosius finds some letters, left by his predecessor, that have a profound effect upon him. He can’t stop thinking about them, nor can he stop reading them. The letters are not only surreal but so strangely personal, as if Ambrosius has become part of the narrative. The letter writer meets a succubus in the course of his adventures, and in an odd parallel, a strange young girl named Veronica appears in the graveyard and starts up a conversation with Ambrosius.

”Her long raven black hair was held back by a broad white hair band revealing a face that was as flawless and expressionless as a Venetian mask. So meticulously placed were the dark symmetrical eyebrows over her large dark eyes: that it looked as if they had been artificially constructed. Her small straight nose sat over her full lips, that even in the faint light gleamed like they had been recently painted.

There was a slight iridescent glow to her pale, slightly translucent skin that made me think about sculptural works in marble and I was suddenly curious if she might also be cool to the touch.”

There are a lot of unnatural aspects to her, like being able to read the thoughts of a nearby cat, but she is so sane in her insanity that she is another puzzle for Ambrosius to ponder. She is so wise and erudite in her responses that it is hard to associate the mind with the body. This, of course, prompted another question for the writer.

JK:You have a succubus in your story, creating some sexual havoc, but you also have a precocious "girl" named Veronica, who is intriguing, beautiful, scary, and certainly confusing. There are a few overtones of Lolita as your protagonist scrambles to sort out the juxtaposition between her appearance and the wisdom enhanced conversations that are well beyond her years. Tell more about the evolution of this character and the relationship of you as a writer to the characters you create.

LBJ:"I deliberately wanted to create a series of adjacent characters that weren't necessarily bound by time, history, or place, but at the same time were interconnected conceptually and could merge with each other to create a more holistic narrative. I am, therefore, happy to hear your confusion with regards to the protagonist's relationship with the girl, who does indeed have a strong and calculated similarity with the succubus. Although 'Lolita' was not in the forefront of my mind when I started writing, I definitely began portraying 'Veronica' as enigmatically fluid to enhance the juxtaposition between her appearance and her conversational talent, but also to more succinctly link to the alluring succubus.

When I begin writing, I generally have a pretty firm idea for each of the individual characters. I do, however, allow for the natural fluidity of the writing process to guide their development, and it's only natural that my characters grow as I write, and sometimes get themselves involved in unexpected scenarios.

Though I often think I have a fairly clear idea of the individual and his or her traits, there were certainly some unanticipated surprises that arose when I wrote, “When all the days have gone,” and there's no question that I had to allow for a bit of flexibility in the narrative to appropriately accommodate the rather complex development of some of the characters. I knew from the beginning that Veronica would be a critical character and that she would flow in and out of the narrative throughout the novel, so I intentionally attempted to make her mysterious, enigmatic, alluring, intelligent, and wise to deem her unforgettable. As contrived as it sounds, I also attempt to give my characters enough time and room to breathe on the page so that they develop their individuality both naturally and fluidly. It is, as you well know, a very fine balance, and one that I'm still attempting to perfect."

”Although I hadn’t had any imprudent thoughts, her gaze nonetheless made me uncomfortable and I didn’t know how to respond to her gaze other than returning a somewhat strained smile.”

Who is she exactly? What is she? Intelligence is always an attractive trait in a woman/girl/succubus, although, as we all know, intelligence is not a box that needs to be checked as an attractive trait regarding a succubus. By design they are everything you desire.

Jerlach certainly explores a lot of ancient philosophical thought. Is the table really there sort of thing, but he wraps it all in this mystical tale that brings new life, new meaning to what we try to understand about our lives.

JK:You wrap mysticism around classical philosophical thoughts in your books. It can seem like an odd pairing, but both deal with what is real and what is not real. One may have more respect than the other in academic circles, but I get the impression that you, in your search for greater understanding, have embraced both mysticism and philosophy equally. For you, what is the definition of real?

LBJ: "The question about what is real and imagined is obviously one of the driving forces in writing the novel and in building the structure of the narrative. I believe my interest in mysticism can easily be seen as standing in contrast to the rationalist view under which one could argue that reason alone is considered evidence for the truth or falsity of some propositions. However, I am of the belief that anything you experience or reflect on, whether it be fantasy, imagined, dreamt, or tangible, past, present, or future, becomes an intrinsic part of the fabric of your individual reality. So in a sense, everything you have ever experienced and will come to experience, therefore, has to be regarded as real."

There is one last aspect of this novel that I found very intriguing. Ambrosius is trapped in his house in a snowstorm. Every time he feels the call of nature, he has to shovel his way to the outhouse. The snow is up to the windowsills and continues adding more inches of fresh snow every day. He is a man who notices the way a blue sky looks differently from the bottom of a grave, or the beauty in a dead mouse, or the yellow designs left in the snow by a cat.

JK: One of the things I really liked in this book was Ambrosius's ability to see beauty in the mundane, dead rodents, cat pee stains in the snow, etc. I, too, have always tried to notice more than just the things we are supposed to notice as we gallop through life. I have a feeling you are the same way. Share about how those unusual things that others may not bother to notice influence your writing and your art?

LBJ "Although I think we all have a tendency to observe the world around us as “the bigger picture,” it's probably somewhat unique that some people seem to pay closer attention to the smaller details in our daily life. I have quite a few friends who're artists/ writers/ other creatives, and it seems as if nearly all of us have an urge to highlight the insignificant so to make it significant. All the images, sounds, smells, touches we collate throughout our lives, no matter how small, are all just tiny fragments that together create the much larger, more complex whole. Although I am like everyone else, who most often look at 'the bigger picture' world around us, I am aware that I tend to be automatically drawn to the unobserved even when I'm not trying, so when I write about Ambrosius's tendencies, a lot of them come from my own personal experiences. I believe that the aggregate of qualities in the very small, often unnoticed, things are what gives the most unexpected pleasure to the senses and, therefore, exalts the mind and the spirit."

I want to thank Lars Boye Jerlach for graciously answering my questions. As you can see, this short novel, 220 pages, is full of grand ideas and explores the relationship that we all have with the world around us. Some of what happens to us is not readily explainable, and I think we have to learn to be comfortable with the uncomfortable. What is real? What is surreal? Is one more substantial than the other? I can’t imagine any reader walking away from reading this book without being inspired to look at the world around them with a more discerning eye.

If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
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[Jim Fonseca · Rating 4 out of 5]

The author himself calls this a ‘desolate tale’ and we certainly have the setting for it. An immigrant arrives somewhere in New England near the Canadian border as a gravedigger. Since he traveled on a sailing ship to get to the US we assume this story takes place around the turn of the last century. He is alone and dreams of seeing his wife and child, apparently left behind for now.

While digging graves he begins to be visited by a precocious 14-year-old girl with her black cat. She thinks about why people do terrible things such as “…and the worst of it is, that all these terrible things are often powered by some form of dark self-interest that goes way way back, perhaps even to the beginning of time.” And she speculates “The question is: if solitude increases the perception of self and grants us something valuable, why is it then that we choose not to be alone?” The gravedigger never finds out where the girl lives or who her parents are.

The girl claims to transmit thoughts from the cat: “It mainly has thoughts about art, ethics, religion and more complex thoughts about what it means to exist.”

Winter comes. The girl leaves but the cat stays. This is Winter with a capital ‘W.’ it snows for days with bitter cold and each day the gravedigger has to shovel out the path to the outhouse, the chicken coop and firewood. I kept thinking of Orhan Pamuk’s book Snow.



The cemetery director gives him a box of letters left behind by the last occupant of the house. They are written in a foreign language, which turns out to be his own – Danish. Each night he reads a letter the previous occupant wrote to his wife. (Why were they never mailed? There’s a mystery.)

The story become hypnotic. With no grave-digging to do in the frozen ground, the main character lives in absolute solitude. Each day he shovels, gathers eggs, cooks them with a slice of canned meat, stokes the fire, feeds the cat, makes hot tea. Day after day, night after night.

His dreams intertwine with the story he is reading and the story starts to intertwine with his life. The story and his dreams are laden with symbolism: an albatross, a friar on the ship who plunges overboard attracted by a voice, a black cat, a white cat, a lantern with strange symbols on it – left behind by the prior occupant and dangling in front of him as he reads. It turns into quite a philosophical tale.

Some passages I liked:

Father Fromm had had the most unpleasant tendency to hold on to his hand a fraction too long … he had nonetheless suspected that the grip from the hand of death itself would not be too dissimilar.

About Greek urns on grave markers: It was more the strangely conflicting fact that so many Americans had chosen to have a draped urn standing on top of their earthly remains for all eternity since none of them, as far as he knew, were Greek nor had chosen to be cremated.

A good read and I also enjoyed the author’s The Somnambulist’s Dreams that I have also reviewed.
(Here:) https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

I appreciate the author sending me a copy of this book in exchange for a review.

photo from barryfalk.com

[Elyse Walters · Rating 5 out of 5]

.....A cat that reads minds....

.....A gravedigger....
.....a man who prefers to eat alone....who while usually a lot on his mind....tries not to think too much while he is eating. And why would a man who lives alone - spends most of his time alone - need to empty his thoughts while eating? Was he simply reflecting/ meditating? Perhaps he has silly or naughty thoughts that he feels won’t digest well with his cooking?

.....A mysterious enchanting young girl, Veronica, ....with a beautiful voice....humming something a cat was thinking earlier.....meets our mysterious gravedigger, Moerk, in the cemetery one evening.

.....Ambrosius Moerk, was curious. He didn’t understand how Veronica could know a particular piece of music as well as she did. He knew it was by the composer Johannes Brahms.... and that she was humming the beginning bars to Requiem.
Veronica had no idea who wrote that tune. Like she says: “ The cat was working through some thoughts, and the piece of music must have gotten stuck in my head”.
Makes perfect sense, right? Ha! Does it?

.....The conversation that follows between Moerk and Veronica is priceless.
You’ll be so glad they became acquainted..... and that you became acquainted with them. These two characters are memorable— readers will remember them both long after finishing this short creative novel.

.....Moerk is handed a collection of letters written by his gravedigger-predecessor—� he couldn’t rid himself the feeling that many connections between himself and the author of those letters —( although supposedly just imaginative fantasies), — were filled with similarities and coincidences.

Lars writing is filled with images that stay bright in your mind- tangy smells in the air - temperatures- graphic details- from snow covered grounds - to lanterns, - a candescent glow - honey colored tea - hauling buckets of heavy clay - a mouse curled up on its side - lifeless rodents - sputtering faucet - creaking floor to the fireplace - etc. etc. His writing is both playful and reflective.

This book is ‘quality’ writing....with juicy vocabulary words-and gorgeous detail descriptions. Simply outstanding!
On every page - I could pause and reflect - often think about experiences.... those we have lived - and those we have imagined - and ultimately what’s the difference? I thought about the wandering souls - loners in our world who prefer to live in seclusion. What can I learn from them?

“When All The Days Have Gone” is a compelling piece of work… an enlightening form of solitude that is both rich and nourishing.

Here’s just ‘one’ beautiful excerpt:
“When you look into the lake everything beneath the surface is as clear and as vivid as you could possibly imagine. In fact, it appears as if there is no surface at all, and that you are looking deep into an infinite ocean with a complete comprehension of what you are seeing. However, as soon as you begin to contemplate the things you discover, an infinitesimal ripple appears on the surface that ever so slightly obscure what you thought you already knew. So you attempt to concentrate on what recently escape to you, and by doing so you create more ripples, only this time the ripples are slightly larger than the last time and further obscure your view. The more you think, the bigger the ripples become, until the entire surface is in turmoil and you have forever been deprived of what you originally found”.

Thank you, Lars.... this book is exquisite! You’re becoming one of my favorite writers....
Sincerely! You have a rare talent - an artistic flair that is unique —� intelligent - and your writing is absolutely beautiful!

[Glenn Russell · Rating 5 out of 5]

“That is where my dearest and brightest dreams have ranged — to hear for the duration of a heartbeat the universe and the totality of life in its mysterious, innate harmony.”

We are in nineteenth century New England with a gravedigger by the name of Ambrosius Moerk. He’s handed a batch of letters written in Danish; he has a series of magical encounters with, among others, a young lady, a monk and various animals, most notably cats. But this is but the outer shell. When All The Days Have Gone is a deeply inward journey of the spirit, a novel reminding me of the writing of none other than that German romantic, Hermann Hesse. Thus the above quote from Hesse’s novel Gertrude is very much in keeping with this fine imaginative yarn by Danish born, American author Lars Boye Jerlach.

Reading Hermann Hesse in my early twenties, I had the distinct feeling his poetic words were graceful markers for one’s own self-discovery. Likewise, with Lars' novel. Thus I have linked my own musings with several direct quotes from the book:

“He found that the longer he stared at the images the further he was from understanding them. There was no florid fragrance, no corporeality of tactility, exuding from the two dimensional plane, the fact that he could find absolutely nothing alive in the painting, and yet they had an unnatural almost spellbinding grip on him that he found both mysterious and inexplicable, as he had never been especially interested in the world of flora.” ---------- The flora spoken of here are flowers portrayed in Flemish oil paintings. A warmhearted aunt would take young Ambrosius on educational tours of Copenhagen’s Museum of Art. Through a number of passages, such as “When looking at real flowers, he could hardly distinguish one from another, but when faced with a painting he found himself drawn to counting the number of petals in a crown or the number of leaves on a stem.” we are given a glimpse of the ways a youngster first awakens to his own calling as an artist.

“He discovered that he was most intrigued by the smaller nondescript assemblies of feathers or tufts of fur. If there were any recognizable parts of the animal left or the smell of decay was still polluting the air, the image on the ground immediately lost its appeal and he never found the urge to sketch it.” ---------- Young Ambrosius recollects those penetrating memories of his out in the natural world, with animals especially, as a first step in transforming powerful experience into art. Sidebar: Another common ground with Hermann Heese: Lars Boye Jerlach is also a visual artist.

“You’re absolutely right,” she said, “The most intricate parts of the mind are indeed a dangerous maze full of pitfalls and perilousness not to be shared lightly and believe me when I say that there are a lot of thoughts in the world that are better left alone in the deepest darkest depths of their lairs never to see the light of day.” ----------- A captivating lass the age of Lewis Carroll’s Alice appears to Ambrosius Moerk when he is walking through the woods. This mysterious presence brings to mind the girl from Arthur Machen’s tale The White People with her knowledge of secret wisdom and nature cults echoing the worlds of Gnosticism and shamanism. And let’s not forget the English translation of the gravedigger’s last name is "mørk" as in dark, black. Very appropriate recognizing the depth of the main character’s metaphysical and psychological probings.

“A talking ship’s cat that for reasons unknown had promised the author the impossible gift of time, the author’s outlandish dream and his realization that the cat could read his mind was not only unbelievable, but surely the ravings of a deeply disturbed man. Yet, there was something about the order in which the letters had ben written and the honesty of the writer that for some reason or other made the narrative seem less ridiculous.” ---------- But one of the cats with special, otherworldly gifts casting its spell in the tale. Cats have long been connected to magic going back to the time of the ancient Egyptians. And through the medieval period cats were more directly viewed as occult messengers and a witch frequently kept a black cat as a companion to act as her familiar.

“As he was close to stepping off the precipice to lose himself in the efficacious coital vortex that would suck him to the endless bottom, he heard an innominate voice originating from somewhere near the center of his mind. “I wanted you to know that we can share each other’s dreams,” it said. He let himself go and was instantaneously lost in the vehement multisensory maelstrom.” ---------- ---------- I include this quote here to highlight the author’s luscious, lyrical writing. I highly recommend you treat yourself to When All The Days Have Gone.


Author Lars Boye Jerlach at a bookstore in Maine.

[BlackOxford · Rating 4 out of 5]

Never-ending Recurrence

A Danish gravedigger, from Hamlet perhaps; a sailor, apparently from the disastrous Franklin expedition to the far North of Canada in 1848; a girlish apparition, who provides some continuity between the two; and several opinionated cats and birds - Jerlach has once again assembled an enigmatic cast in a sort of metempsychotic fantasy.

Time is stretched, distorted, and turned inside out. Maelstroms and terrestial sinkholes act like astronomical black holes to permit time travel. Characters therefore have a sort of eternal Platonic existence. They are their (our?) collective past, bound up in little packages of anonymous thought and feeling that are passed mysteriously from generation to generation. Thus we necessarily become our forebears in a way that is more than genetic. The days never do end until thought and feeling cease entirely. Do I detect a Jungian tendency?

My first thoughts were that the book needed a better English editor. The vocabulary is frequently archaic or arcane, and some usages less than idiomatic. But eventually it became clear that these were part of the 19th century flavour that was intended. Coleridge plays a big part, as does Poe, Scandinavian myth, and perhaps even Mark Twain, Charles Dodgson and Thomas Aquinas (as Brother Thommen OP!). The names Ambrosius and Veronica point to Augustine but perhaps that’s only in my head. As the story settles into my unconscious, I’m quite sure many more literary allusions will become clearer.

Jerlach is discursive, allusive, erudite, and great fun. Reading him is like being inside Hermann Hesse’s Glass Bead Game, unexpected connections across various dimensions pop up continuously. A literary sleigh-ride.

[Thomas Stroemquist · Rating 5 out of 5]

In my opinion, Lars Boye Jerlach set the bar impossibly high for himself with the mesmerizing The Somnambulist's Dreams. And then he stepped right up to it, and commenced by stepping right over it with When All the Days Have Gone.

After a fraction more hesitant start, I was soon engulfed in the narrative and more than once, this story made me lose focus of the outside world (I do most of my reading while commuting, and books range from 'I heard everything my seat neighbor yapped about on the phone' to 'where am I? is this the right bus?').

One of the things to love about this book (as well as the first) is that - although chock-full of literary references and philosophical intricacies, it never once feels like a test of knowledge or intelligence, but lays itself open to interpretation by the reader in a beautiful way. Either that or, you know, I’m too stupid to get it all, and that would not really matter, since I loved the book.

I realize I didn’t say much about the story, but I really wouldn’t want to as to disturb anyone’s perception of it, so just read the ‘blurb’ to decide if it’s for you and then sail off! Brace for the ending, I should have seen that coming, but really didn’t and it hit me like a tonne of bricks - I‘m happy none of my fellow commuters looked up from their smartphones as they probably would have thought I just had a stroke.

[withdrawn · Rating 2 out of 5]

Okay. This was a disappointing read for me - for several reasons. First, I had read friends’ reviews, one of which totally misled me. (Was this the same book?)

Second, the book seemed to be quite promising: lots of mystery built up; shifting parallel scenes (a structural feature I particularly enjoy); discussions involving rather well thought out epistemological considerations. I also enjoyed the rather realistic setting in a snow storm (sort of like we’re getting into here today, in April), cut off from social interaction (cabin fever). I could relate. Also, I enjoy stories with a hint of the mystical in them. Something I’ve carried over from my younger days.

Third, Author Lars Boye Jerlach is a good writer. While his use of language takes a bit of getting used to, it clearly works in the story and creates ambience. Quite enjoyable. Thus, there is a great deal here that kept me engaged, from beginning until, almost, the end.

So why am I being curmudgeonly? Why so stingy with the stars? So, the book turns on the mystery or mysteries. Why are these two men’s stories so overlapping at places? How did they both travel, from Denmark, to the north east of the USA to undertake (pun intended) the same work, as a grave digger? What became of the first man? We are told that he “passed away some time ago”. Who is the girl, or are the girls? And the cat(s)? But . . . . I don’t want to give too much away here, so I won’t go into it.

My problem with the book is that when push comes to shove, it doesn’t hang together. There is no necessity to the resolution - as though Agatha Christie were to resolve the mystery by telling us that “the ghost did it!” And doesn’t bother to explain why. Not a word of explanation as to what is behind it all. Maybe just a totally neurotic reaction on the part of our main character(s).

Back in the mid-90s, my wife and I, having just moved to a new city, decided to go out to a movie. We left the four kids with a 16 year old and went to see ‘Dead Man’, starring Johnny Depp. Like this book, it was fascinating in its development: a good story, dramatic tension, and a North American indigenous guy spouting William Blake poetry. Perfect. Except that . . . we hadn’t checked the weather.

We got down to what seemed to be the last ten or fifteen minutes of the movie when the power went off. After about another ten minutes, an announcement informed us that “due to the hurricane, the power would not likely be coming back on.” So we left . . . avoiding trees moving horizontally down the street. As usual, I let my wife drive. (Another mystery, why was the theatre open in the first place?)

In any event, I still don’t know how the movie ended. I don’t know how the threads were brought together. It remains a disappointment.

Likewise with this book. The mystery was resolved with a “deus ex machina”. I have loose threads hanging all over the place. I’m disappointed.

[Yesmo · Rating 5 out of 5]

To start, I dont know what kind of material this book is made out of exactly but WOW it sure feels nice. The binding is strong, the pages are crisp, the font is great and the book itself is very soft and comfortable to hold. I just recieved The Poriferous Darkness in the mail yesterday and I am very pleased to see that it's also made like When All The Days Have Gone and I'm expecting that his other book The Somnambulists Dream is also going to feel this way (it should be here in a few days).

Onto the book. What can I really say?

I have a very hard time not just rushing through a book. I dont mean that I'm actually in a hurry, I just read fast naturally. If I love it, I cant put it down. With this book I had to put it down. This sounds like a slight to the book but it isnt.

Within the first few chapters I was already sad, knowing that the book ends eventually. It's so well written that its impossible not to picture every scene unbelievably crystal clear. His prose is so pleasing that he makes the mundane seem... enthralling. I LOVED reading the descriptions of the main character cooking, eating, walking, etc.

Somehow he took a book about a solitary man, who kind of doesn't do very much and turned it into a story that i will never forget. This is a book I will re-read many times and encourage absolutely everybody I know to read.

Recently I read The Real Life of Sebastian Knight by Vladimir Nabokov. Fairly early in the book I called the ending but somehow when I got to the ending... it still blew me away. It was the ending I expected but it was so beautifully written and somehow still shocking that I was blown away. This book is similar.

I had a feeling I knew what was coming but I had no idea how he was going to end it. The execution was... beautiful. It ended how I thought it would but not at all how I thought it would. It's ironic too, considering the philosophical nature of the book.

Anyways, I cant recommend this book enough. There were a few moments that were so creative and described so well and it was visually so shocking that I had to stop reading for a minute and kind of shake my head and grin... dude...

I cant wait to read his other two books. I ordered them immediately after the first time I put the book down. I seriously read a couple chapters and then when I stopped for the night I ordered the other two right there and then.

This is a book to take your time with. Like I said, I generally read very fast. A book every day or two. This book took me a week. I read a little bit every night and chiselled my way slowly through. Taking my time. Savoring every little drop of ink it took to build this story. This beautifully written, extremely creative, fantastically sad and happy story.

Thank you Lars Boye Jerlach. You have become a favorite author of mine. Pynchon, Wallace, Nabokov, Salinger, Kafka, Joyce, Gaddis, Jerlach. (In no specific order)

[Andy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Last year when I read Jerlach's first novel "The Somnambulist's Dreams" I was impressed, but this one is even better. Both of these novels center on lonely figures set apart from the world. That novel was about a lighthouse keeper, here we find a gravedigger who lives alone in a small cottage beside a cemetery as winter closes in. He is given a series of very odd letters written by his predecessor which were never sent.

I cannot help but reference Sadegh Hedayat's "The Blind Owl" as I did when I reviewed Jerlach's first novel. There are recurring themes and dreamlike archetypes with overlapping narratives which make time meaningless. This is a very introverted tale of silence and contemplation, gradually revealing itself to be a journey inward, exploring the nature of reality and perception.

I believe this is better than Jerlach's first novel, however I must warn that you'll need to be prepared for a very slow and repetitive read. Everything is done in an extremely deliberate manner. There are long sections devoted to shoveling snow, putting away shovels, lighting lanterns and making tea...a lot of tea. I like this stuff, but even I have to be in the proper mood for it. Also I think it's probably erroneous to approach this as a horror novel, although it contains some elements of that. The slowness of the pacing, combined with Jerlach's wonderful prose create an interesting, meditative mood that closed around me. But I imagine some will say this could have been a short story, instead of an 80,000 word novel.

[Leo Robertson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Interview with author coming soon :) Maybe this evening if I get my shit together!

[Nikki "The Crazie Betty" V. · Rating 4 out of 5]

I don’t even know how to put into words this surreal, magical, and slightly uncomfortable read. I wasn’t sure if JLB was going to be able to do again what he did with the Somnabulist’s Dreams, but color me more than surprised. And oh so happy.

Ambrosius is about to go on a life changing and affirming adventure. All from his little table in a little cabin on the outskirts of a small cemetery. As he reads letters left by the previous gravedigger tenant, he finds eerie similarities to himself and his own life. Until he’s finally questions what is real. Reading alongside Ambrosius is a strange trip, and even as you believe you’ve figured out what’s going on, you are turned on your head and left pondering what you’ve just read. Putting the book aside so that you can meditate on the magical realism of the world he inhabits. There really is no way for me to describe this book, its plot, and its contents. In fact, when I finished reading the last page, I immediately went back and read it again so that I could sponge up every possibly detail to complete the desolate tale JLB wove. All I can say is that if you enjoyed TSD, and if you enjoy magical realism that makes you feel like you can’t keep your feet on the ground, and losing which side is up, this is the book for you. I’m so happy to have the beautiful book sitting on my shelf next to TSD. They are both stunning works of art that I would recommend to any.

I received a copy of this story from the author, and have provided a review of my own accord.

[Brian Cronin · Rating 5 out of 5]

The prose has a halting, yet elegant movement. The main character's life is a repetitive one. But, there is more going on behind the fluid layer of existence we call reality. If you are willing to take this journey, you will be richly rewarded. Each layer of the story circles back on itself, in surrealism. There is no difference between reality and dream, between past and present. What seems to take place during one winter's snowstorm in New England is in fact an eternity.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book.

[Bobbie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lars Jerlach does it again in producing a truly original book with a list of bizarre characters. We have a cat that can read people’s mind, and a gravedigger who lives alone - spends most of his time alone. But why would a man like this need to clear his mind while eating? Is he just spending time in reflection or is he thinking prurient or dirty that might affect his eating? Then we also have a mysterious but charming young girl Veronica with a beautiful lilting voice. Add to this list of characters, an intriguing premise of the gravedigger Ambrosius Moerck who receives a bundle of letters in the cemetary where he works, and you have an unusual story that will grab your attention and grip you till the end. I really enjoy Jerlach’s writing; it is beautiful in its prose especially in the conversations that Ambrosius and Veronica have in always weaving a unique tale. It's as if we the readers have an actual part in these scenes that's richly rewarding. It's deeply philosophical too. I don’t want to give away too much. Check it out for a satisfying read. I can’t wait to see what Jerlach writes next!

[Noah Wanhala · Rating 3 out of 5]

An enjoyable, slow paced, and supernatural tale.

Intriguing but very dry, mundane, and wordy for the majority of the book.

[Sarah]

DNF - Sounds like a neat story but it could not hold my attention. Lots of descriptions & goes off on tangents about this guy's thoughts, but it feels like a bunch of facts being shoved down my throat all at once rather than a graceful getting-to-know-you kind of thing. I only read a few pages but still, absolutely nothing happened in those pages. Dude walks around, does nothing else. Lots of vomit about his life/personality, but this is all happening before I've been shown why I should care about him.

May attempt again later, but I just couldn't get into it.

[Ciel Dahlberg · Rating 4 out of 5]

I did not enjoy this as much as the somnambulists dreams. this was very good, but something about the story didn't quite drag me into it and I felt like my existence was bland and the book was bland and it was bleaching out into every aspect of my life when I picked this up. I didn't like the long passages in italics and the philosophy felt dry. but I loved the setting. the mood and feel of the book was good and there was enough mystery to keep me engaged and wanting to know more, but I know this could have been better.