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Die schwarze Spinne (Großdruck): Eine Erzählung
Jeremias Die schwarze Spinne. Eine Erzählung Lesefreundlicher Großdruck in 16-pt-Schrift Großformat, 210 x 297 mm Berliner Ausgabe, 2019 Durchgesehener Neusatz mit einer Biographie des Autors bearbeitet und eingerichtet von Theodor Borken Erstdruck Bilder und Sagen aus der Schweiz, Solothurn 1842. Textgrundlage ist die Jeremias Ausgewählte Werke in 12 Bänden. Herausgegeben von Walter Muschg, Zü Diogenes, 1978. Umschlaggestaltung von Thomas Schultz-Overhage unter Verwendung des Gerhard Wilhelm von Reutern, Auf dem Friedhof von Willenshausen, 1842. Gesetzt aus der Minion Pro, 16 pt. Henricus Edition Deutsche Klassik UG (haftungsbeschränkt)
100 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1842
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About the author
Jeremias Gotthelf
473 books26 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 - 30 of 564 reviews
July 25, 2019
This short Swiss novel from 1842--a novella really--has much to recommend it. It tells a simple compelling story of how the devil, in the form of a large lethal spider, was allowed to prey upon a peaceful community, twice: first through an actual pact with a proud woman, and much later--after the initial evil had been contained though not eliminated--through a community's complacency and the lack of a healthy respect for evil itself.
The novella's structure, consisting of a frame story and two internal narratives, is not only pleasing in itself, but also an ideal conveyor of the narratives' central themes. The frame story is set on the day of a christening celebrated by prosperous peasants at a farm, and the homely customs of this rural community are presented in such loving detail, and their world itself seems so idyllic, so noble in its simplicity, that we feel evil could never enter there. Soon, however, the grandfather begins to tell us his first story, and by the end of it we realize that centuries ago, great evil once triumphed on this very spot. As Grandfather concludes his first tale, his listeners--and we readers--grow increasingly uneasy, and he begins to tell us another story about how this same evil, although contained, was unleashed a second time in a period of time closer to the present. The entire narrative ends in thanksgiving and celebration, but the reader is now conscious of living in a world where, though God may be merciful, evil can be contained but never dispelled.
This is a classic tale of supernatural horror, and should be read by every one who appreciates such tales.
September 16, 2018
Published for spooooky month!
well, that was creepy.
this is a tiny little novella about great big evil.
it starts off all lovely, describing the natural beauty of a remote swiss village. you know the type:
Above the mountains rose the sun, shining in limpid majesty down into a welcome but narrow valley, where it woke to joyous life creatures that had been created to take pleasure in the sunshine of their days.
etc, etc.
but of course, like any good horror novel, this bucolic paradise masks ancient horrors.
but first, let's talk about the family gathered for a christening, and the big deal that is being made, with all the food and the manners and the festivities and the humorous rituals of passive-aggressive nature with its, "if you don't stuff yourself i will assume it is because you hate my cooking" etc etc. and it is funny. you almost forget you have been promised a horror novel(la).
but all the funny is going to cease once storytime begins. see, this house where everyone has gathered has this eyesore of an incongruous pole sticking up in the corner of the room. and grampa's going to explain what it is and why it is there and why it should NEVER be removed.
what follows is a wonderfully, gleefully dark fairytale-like story about what happens when you make a pact with the devil and try to shirk your side of the bargain.
nothing good, i tell you.
unless you like giant spiders growing out of your face.
giant, venomous spiders that shoot out and attack all the livestock and villagers.
it's pretty amazing, and for a book written in 1842, it holds up pretty well. it doesn't have a lot of good things to say about ladies, but i'd rather be someone who did (or tried to do) what was necessary even if it was unpleasant than someone who tried to break promises. i don't like unbaptized babies anyhow.
spiders. growing out of your face.
just wonderful.
come to my blog!
well, that was creepy.
this is a tiny little novella about great big evil.
it starts off all lovely, describing the natural beauty of a remote swiss village. you know the type:
Above the mountains rose the sun, shining in limpid majesty down into a welcome but narrow valley, where it woke to joyous life creatures that had been created to take pleasure in the sunshine of their days.
etc, etc.
but of course, like any good horror novel, this bucolic paradise masks ancient horrors.
but first, let's talk about the family gathered for a christening, and the big deal that is being made, with all the food and the manners and the festivities and the humorous rituals of passive-aggressive nature with its, "if you don't stuff yourself i will assume it is because you hate my cooking" etc etc. and it is funny. you almost forget you have been promised a horror novel(la).
but all the funny is going to cease once storytime begins. see, this house where everyone has gathered has this eyesore of an incongruous pole sticking up in the corner of the room. and grampa's going to explain what it is and why it is there and why it should NEVER be removed.
what follows is a wonderfully, gleefully dark fairytale-like story about what happens when you make a pact with the devil and try to shirk your side of the bargain.
nothing good, i tell you.
unless you like giant spiders growing out of your face.
giant, venomous spiders that shoot out and attack all the livestock and villagers.
it's pretty amazing, and for a book written in 1842, it holds up pretty well. it doesn't have a lot of good things to say about ladies, but i'd rather be someone who did (or tried to do) what was necessary even if it was unpleasant than someone who tried to break promises. i don't like unbaptized babies anyhow.
spiders. growing out of your face.
just wonderful.
come to my blog!
January 28, 2025
A simply MONSTROUS Morality Tale that bears, totally irredeemably, a subtle relation to the dreadful Panopticon of Old Age.
Understand? No, well the Grumpy Old Man of that classic, A Man Called Ove, was panoptic. All Ove sees are the faults of his neighbours…. Don't go there!
If you're unfamiliar with that term Panopticon, it's probably because it is a searingly prescient reference to the tools that - ironically - have in our age grown into a potential threat to our individual rights and freedoms.
A Panopticon - a neologism coined by the British Utilitarian thinker Jeremy Bentham - is a device he dreamed up to monitor every activity of every inmate in a maximum security prison.
Sound familiar? And a bit like Ove?
I thought so.
And a lot like this wise old man...
The old man in the peacefully idyllic old village who tells the story of the Black Spider at (of all places!) a joyful christening is a WALKING Panopticon...
A disaster in embryo for anyone who listens to him.
For the old man sees Right through the Way of all Flesh. And he SEES the devil for what he is - affable, courteous and VERY evil.
His youthful idealism shattered, he "sees life steadily and he sees it whole" - as the book Culture and Anarchy says - Warts and All!
You know, folks, the sunniest, most carefree days can be putty in Satan's hands. There we are - exposed to him and oh, so vulnerable.
And then he Seeps Between the Cracks of our innocence. Yikes!
Doom.
Time and the bell have buried the day -
The Black Cloud carries the sun away.
But a word to the wise: DON'T read this book unless you're as ready for it as this disillusioned old man is now.
The devil is truly in the ugly details of this grisly story.
So why dwell on the world’s faults when we have plenty of our OWN?
Don't go here unless you HAVE to.
I certainly won’t.
For, I too...
Have seen that Black Spider and all his evil deeds.
Have YOU?
If not, let my Three Stars act as a Word to your Discretionary Wisdom.
AVOID this world if you live in a bubble of:
Kodachro-o-me!
(It gives you the nice bright colours
It gives you the green of summers
It makes you think all the world's
A sunny day.)
For it's not, at all.
Understand? No, well the Grumpy Old Man of that classic, A Man Called Ove, was panoptic. All Ove sees are the faults of his neighbours…. Don't go there!
If you're unfamiliar with that term Panopticon, it's probably because it is a searingly prescient reference to the tools that - ironically - have in our age grown into a potential threat to our individual rights and freedoms.
A Panopticon - a neologism coined by the British Utilitarian thinker Jeremy Bentham - is a device he dreamed up to monitor every activity of every inmate in a maximum security prison.
Sound familiar? And a bit like Ove?
I thought so.
And a lot like this wise old man...
The old man in the peacefully idyllic old village who tells the story of the Black Spider at (of all places!) a joyful christening is a WALKING Panopticon...
A disaster in embryo for anyone who listens to him.
For the old man sees Right through the Way of all Flesh. And he SEES the devil for what he is - affable, courteous and VERY evil.
His youthful idealism shattered, he "sees life steadily and he sees it whole" - as the book Culture and Anarchy says - Warts and All!
You know, folks, the sunniest, most carefree days can be putty in Satan's hands. There we are - exposed to him and oh, so vulnerable.
And then he Seeps Between the Cracks of our innocence. Yikes!
Doom.
Time and the bell have buried the day -
The Black Cloud carries the sun away.
But a word to the wise: DON'T read this book unless you're as ready for it as this disillusioned old man is now.
The devil is truly in the ugly details of this grisly story.
So why dwell on the world’s faults when we have plenty of our OWN?
Don't go here unless you HAVE to.
I certainly won’t.
For, I too...
Have seen that Black Spider and all his evil deeds.
Have YOU?
If not, let my Three Stars act as a Word to your Discretionary Wisdom.
AVOID this world if you live in a bubble of:
Kodachro-o-me!
(It gives you the nice bright colours
It gives you the green of summers
It makes you think all the world's
A sunny day.)
For it's not, at all.
October 18, 2013
I thought this was incredibly charming and atmospheric, despite the fact that it's essentially the sort of simple religious allegory that normally makes me run a mile. The Christian symbolism is indeed the whole point: the author was a nineteenth-century village pastor who regarded his fiction as a kind of extended sermon. And yet his sense of pacing and the detail of his descriptions just make it such a pleasure to read for all kinds of unexpected reasons.
The bucolic early scenes of life in a tiny Swiss village are clearly written from experience, and I was just fascinated by the insight into daily life that's on show here. The way the maids tie their hair into bunches, how the old men light their pipes, how thickly the bread should be cut – lovely rich sense-pictures of all the kitchen activity:
Drinnen in der weiten, reinen Küche knisterte ein mächtiges Feuer von Tannenholz, in weiter Pfanne knallten Kaffeebohnen, die eine stattliche Frau mit hölzerner Kelle durcheinanderrührte, nebenbei knarrte die Kaffeemühle zwischen den Knien einer frischgewaschenen Magd […].
Inside in the big, clean kitchen a huge fire of pine wood was crackling; in a big pan could be heard the popping of coffee beans which a stately-looking woman was stirring around with a wooden ladle, while nearby the coffee mill was grinding between the knees of a freshly washed maid….
These are part of the preparations for a meal to celebrate a christening. The first course, incidentally, is a crazy local speciality that sounds like some sort of sweet-savoury mulled wine, yum:
…guten Bernersuppe, bestehend aus Wein, geröstetem Brot, Eiern, Zucker, Zimmet und Safran, diesem ebenso altertümlichen Gewürze, das an einem Kindstaufeschmaus in der Suppe, im Voressen, im süßen Tee vorkommen muß.
…good Bernese soup, consisting of wine, toasted bread, eggs, sugar, cinnamon and saffron, that equally old-fashioned spice which has to be present at a christening feast in the soup, in the first course after the soup and in the sweetened tea.
So if you ever have to celebrate a christening in Bern, now you know what to serve.
Anyway, I'm making this sound like a culinary textbook. It's actually an effectively creepy tale of Satanic possession – one that draws on that whole folkloric tradition of simple villagers making pacts with the Devil. There is much thunder and lightning and several dramatic set-pieces involving new-born babies, green huntsmen, evil knights, heroic priests, hideous deaths, and of course the anticipated variety of arachnean antics.
Having just read A Concise History of Switzerland, it was interesting to me that the story-within-a-story comprising the main part of this tale takes place in the sixteenth century, before this little patch of the Emmental had become fully part of the Swiss confederacy. One theme that emerges from Swiss history is the idea of different communities banding together to form self-governing political units, without the feudal overlordship that was the norm everywhere else in Europe. It's striking then that when this nineteenth-century villager is telling a story about the bad old days, he looks all the way back to when this little area was still a commandery of the Teutonic Knights, when the villagers had to bow their heads to the lord of Sumiswald Castle. Clearly this is secondary to the religious allegory on show here, but it adds a fascinating extra layer to the story.
And indeed, going through the original German text, even a beginner like me can see that it contains several specifically Swiss elements – local foodstuffs like Züpfe (translated as ‘Bernese cake’) or Hafermus (‘porridge’), as well as words like Meitschi ‘girl’, which is here given a comparably regional flavour by the translation ‘lass’. Actually the translation as a whole, from HM Waidon back in 1958 (reprinted in the 2009 OneWorld Classics edition), is wonderfully supple and readable.
Thomas Mann famously said that he admired The Black Spider ‘like almost no other piece of world literature’, and sure enough, although it really shouldn't be that interesting, somehow it seems to add up to more than the sum of its parts. I recommend turning the lights down and indulging in a copy for a literary, arachnophobic Halloween treat.
October 3, 2021
Jeremias Gotthelf’s novella reads like a wonderfully macabre fairy tale. Published in 1842, it’s set in a secluded Swiss village where a family’s hosting a feast to celebrate the baptism of their first son. A chance remark prompts the baby’s grandfather to reveal secrets from the community’s past, taking his audience back to a troubling time when downtrodden peasants entered into an agreement with a devilish figure. The villagers’ reluctant pact with this mysterious, green huntsman sparks a series of uncanny events. These culminate in the unleashing of eldritch creatures in the form of hideous black spiders, sowing the seeds of an evil that’s perpetually threatening to re-emerge.
Gotthelf's narrative draws on Swiss folklore tracing back to the Black Death but adds a layer of Christian morality, in keeping with his position as a Protestant pastor. Fortunately, the religious elements aren't too overwhelming, although it’s clear Gotthelf had annoyingly conservative views on women’s roles. In general, the people in his sinister story appear more archetypal than fully fleshed-out individuals, adding to the impression Gotthelf’s conjuring up images of a timeless, mythic horror. The Black Spider influenced Thomas Mann’s Doctor Faustus and apparently gave Robert Walser chills, and no wonder, I thought it was beautifully observed and the spiders were genuinely unnerving. I enjoyed this gothic piece immensely, an excellent choice for a dark, wintry evening in the run-up to Halloween. I have the NYRB edition featuring a fluid translation by Susan Bernofsky.
Gotthelf's narrative draws on Swiss folklore tracing back to the Black Death but adds a layer of Christian morality, in keeping with his position as a Protestant pastor. Fortunately, the religious elements aren't too overwhelming, although it’s clear Gotthelf had annoyingly conservative views on women’s roles. In general, the people in his sinister story appear more archetypal than fully fleshed-out individuals, adding to the impression Gotthelf’s conjuring up images of a timeless, mythic horror. The Black Spider influenced Thomas Mann’s Doctor Faustus and apparently gave Robert Walser chills, and no wonder, I thought it was beautifully observed and the spiders were genuinely unnerving. I enjoyed this gothic piece immensely, an excellent choice for a dark, wintry evening in the run-up to Halloween. I have the NYRB edition featuring a fluid translation by Susan Bernofsky.
October 9, 2024
A pleasantly creepy little horror novella from 1842, sure to please fans of that sort of thing, if unlikely to inspire converts. The horror here is twofold: the devil, in the guise of a devious green huntsman and terrible black spider, is the terror intended; God, who we are meant to fear in an entirely different way, a comfort that’s curdled with time. Two centuries before, Swiss pastor Jeremias Gotthelf would surely have been burning witches; two centuries after, just as surely railing against the godless women of our own time, with their cursed desire for independent thought and action. Still, it is important, I think, that we continue to read these old books about God, from a world that believed in His power; to reckon with what we lost when we decided that, after all, salvation was to be found in earthly things, and that the heavenly realm, not the world of the senses, was history’s great illusion—and, of course, to reckon with all that we gained. Add to this a vivid sense of place, a lost world on many levels, and a genuinely creepy forebearer of the 20th-century’s myriad literary monsters, and you have a lovely read for an October evening, perfect for fans of Theodor Storm or Adalbert Stifter, of whom I am certain at least a dozen still live.
November 27, 2015
My final buddy-read for Spooktober, with none other than the lovely Heather!!
Commencing October 28...
(Oh look, a gif to give EVERYONE nightmares - except Synsthesia who loves spiders *shudders*)
3.5 Stars
Black Spider and I got off to a shaky start, there were a few word choices early on that made me seriously question the translator’s comprehension of writing style. However, once I got into the story this fell away and became much better – with the one notable exception of an EXTREME overuse of the word ‘vainglory’ towards the end of the story. Seriously, it was in every other sentence for two pages.
However, overall I would say this translation is a win, especially for a story that is as old as this one. I am curious to how the original would stack up, because this is a serious non-crunchy classic in its translated form.
Onto the story, I basically felt this entire story was one big:
And while I can forgive that because of the timeframe that the story was written, I am still not much of a fan of stories designed to fill their readers with the righteous fear of God.
This is a story within a story type of book (which I love). An old grandfather is telling a family tale about a time when god wasn’t held within the hearts of the villagers quite so well as he is now.
Once upon a time the villagers had an impossible situation (because of one stubborn, jerkface Knight) and the Devil appeared to them, offering them an easy way out of said horrible situation – all it would cost is an unbaptised soul.
I think we ALL know that you aren’t supposed to entertain deals with the devil. That can be a lot easier said than done, though. Especially when all the men folk run away, leaving a lone sass-mouthed female to deal with him all by her lonesome.
(Above all, no matter how attractive or kind he may seem, NEVER let the devil kiss you...)
It’s a fun and creepy little piece that would likely hit a little higher with persons of faith. Having never been baptised myself I think a little of the menace of the story was lost on me.
Category: A Book Originally Written in Another Language
Commencing October 28...
(Oh look, a gif to give EVERYONE nightmares - except Synsthesia who loves spiders *shudders*)
3.5 Stars
Black Spider and I got off to a shaky start, there were a few word choices early on that made me seriously question the translator’s comprehension of writing style. However, once I got into the story this fell away and became much better – with the one notable exception of an EXTREME overuse of the word ‘vainglory’ towards the end of the story. Seriously, it was in every other sentence for two pages.
However, overall I would say this translation is a win, especially for a story that is as old as this one. I am curious to how the original would stack up, because this is a serious non-crunchy classic in its translated form.
Onto the story, I basically felt this entire story was one big:
And while I can forgive that because of the timeframe that the story was written, I am still not much of a fan of stories designed to fill their readers with the righteous fear of God.
This is a story within a story type of book (which I love). An old grandfather is telling a family tale about a time when god wasn’t held within the hearts of the villagers quite so well as he is now.
Once upon a time the villagers had an impossible situation (because of one stubborn, jerkface Knight) and the Devil appeared to them, offering them an easy way out of said horrible situation – all it would cost is an unbaptised soul.
I think we ALL know that you aren’t supposed to entertain deals with the devil. That can be a lot easier said than done, though. Especially when all the men folk run away, leaving a lone sass-mouthed female to deal with him all by her lonesome.
(Above all, no matter how attractive or kind he may seem, NEVER let the devil kiss you...)
It’s a fun and creepy little piece that would likely hit a little higher with persons of faith. Having never been baptised myself I think a little of the menace of the story was lost on me.
Category: A Book Originally Written in Another Language
November 8, 2016
The Black Spider is my second choice for German Literature Month (http://germanlitmonth.blogspot.co.uk/). It was first published in German in 1842, and was written by a Swiss pastor. The edition I read was translated in 1958 by H.M.Waidson. There is a newer translation available, which is reputed to be much better, though I haven’t read it for comparison.
In many ways, The Black Spider is quite a simple religious allegorical tale, but it does have some genuinely terrifying and horrific moments. The novella starts off with a charming scene of country life. A village child is being baptised and we read about the ins and outs of the ritual and superstition surrounding this. When one of the women in the party asks about the ugly black window frame in the otherwise new house, “grandfather” begins the tale of how it came to be. The tale is quite a dreadful one, involving a pact with the Devil that was reneged upon, thus dooming the villagers to be attacked by a fearsome spider, which could only be vanquished by a fine God-fearing villager. This part of the story is wonderfully gothic and sinister, and I think the fact that it is framed within the initial charming pastoral scene makes it all the more effective.
The Black Spider reads like a cross between a fable and a book from the Old Testament. The God-fearing message is somewhat obvious and blunt, but nevertheless this book is well worth a read, and can definitely be appreciated by the modern reader.
In many ways, The Black Spider is quite a simple religious allegorical tale, but it does have some genuinely terrifying and horrific moments. The novella starts off with a charming scene of country life. A village child is being baptised and we read about the ins and outs of the ritual and superstition surrounding this. When one of the women in the party asks about the ugly black window frame in the otherwise new house, “grandfather” begins the tale of how it came to be. The tale is quite a dreadful one, involving a pact with the Devil that was reneged upon, thus dooming the villagers to be attacked by a fearsome spider, which could only be vanquished by a fine God-fearing villager. This part of the story is wonderfully gothic and sinister, and I think the fact that it is framed within the initial charming pastoral scene makes it all the more effective.
The Black Spider reads like a cross between a fable and a book from the Old Testament. The God-fearing message is somewhat obvious and blunt, but nevertheless this book is well worth a read, and can definitely be appreciated by the modern reader.
April 30, 2023
Highly enjoyable novella written in the early-mid 19th century that reads much better than some from the same time period. I think the translation itself is superb. I do admit that I've never seen the term 'vainglory' used as many times combined in all my reading experiences, yet that doesn't hurt it. I will also admit that with my ridiculous pedantic ways, the usual admirable NYRB book designer, Katy Homans, got me riled up with the cover; the book is "The Black Spider", not "The Black Beetle" (hence the 6 and not 8 legs which arachnids have).
May 23, 2020
So yes, I did have a pretty massive and extensively comprehensive mandatory reading list for my second comprehensive exam (for my PhD in German literature) and of course and naturally, Jeremias Gotthelf's 1842 frame narrative horror novella Die schwarze Spinne (The Black Spider) was as a classic of 19th century Swiss German literature featured on said list and therefore also and absolutely required reading.
Now while I do readily admit that Die schwarze Spinne is definitely and in particular with regard to Jeremias Gotthelf's writing style and his modes of literary expression absolutely and definitely a shining example of Swiss Biedermeier (but that I actually and personally do tend to consider Biedermeier as in fact being simply and primarily a part of poetic realism and thus not all that much if at all a separate literary epoch), I for one have mostly extremely and personally uncomfortably negative reading experience memories of Die schwarze Spinne. For yes indeed, my perusal (in March of 1996) of Die schwarze Spinne, it did content and theme wise, with the gigantic spider that kills, with the images of the Devil, with its scenes of murder and mayhem, with multiple visions of horror and tragedy cause me far too many sleepless nights and some rather vivid and not at all pleasant nightmares. And thus, even if I can appreciate and indeed much enjoy Jeremias Gotthelf's penmanship as a craft, I really do equally mostly wish on an emotional and not at all keen on horror stories level that I never had to read Die schwarze Spinne in the first place, that this story had actually not been included in my comprehensive exam reading list (although I do of course and readily admit that Die schwarze Spinne is most definitely an interesting and a well organised and conceptualised tale, but yes, even just thinking about the plot and the gigantic spider last night and without actually even rereading Die schwarze Spinne, this was already more than sufficient for me to once again experience a similar nightmare as I did in 1996).
Therefore and my appreciation of Jeremias Gotthelf's writing talents quite notwithstanding, I cannot and will not claim that Die schwarze Spinne is in any manner a story that I find even somewhat, even remotely a personal reading pleasure (and I can also really only recommend it to and for those of you who have no issues with horror stories and actually enjoy them). But in fact and indeed, my final ranking of only one star for Die schwarze Spinne is not only because I have found the presented plot too uncanny and too creepy for my likes and for what I can emotionally handle, but also because on an intellectual level, I have equally found Jeremias Gotthelf's intense focus on collective guilt and his rather problematic misogyny (with women in Die schwarze Spinne in my humble opinion rather being seen by the author as the root of all evil and as the conduit and the plaything of and for the Devil) as something at best problematic and majorly uncomfortably troubling.
Now while I do readily admit that Die schwarze Spinne is definitely and in particular with regard to Jeremias Gotthelf's writing style and his modes of literary expression absolutely and definitely a shining example of Swiss Biedermeier (but that I actually and personally do tend to consider Biedermeier as in fact being simply and primarily a part of poetic realism and thus not all that much if at all a separate literary epoch), I for one have mostly extremely and personally uncomfortably negative reading experience memories of Die schwarze Spinne. For yes indeed, my perusal (in March of 1996) of Die schwarze Spinne, it did content and theme wise, with the gigantic spider that kills, with the images of the Devil, with its scenes of murder and mayhem, with multiple visions of horror and tragedy cause me far too many sleepless nights and some rather vivid and not at all pleasant nightmares. And thus, even if I can appreciate and indeed much enjoy Jeremias Gotthelf's penmanship as a craft, I really do equally mostly wish on an emotional and not at all keen on horror stories level that I never had to read Die schwarze Spinne in the first place, that this story had actually not been included in my comprehensive exam reading list (although I do of course and readily admit that Die schwarze Spinne is most definitely an interesting and a well organised and conceptualised tale, but yes, even just thinking about the plot and the gigantic spider last night and without actually even rereading Die schwarze Spinne, this was already more than sufficient for me to once again experience a similar nightmare as I did in 1996).
Therefore and my appreciation of Jeremias Gotthelf's writing talents quite notwithstanding, I cannot and will not claim that Die schwarze Spinne is in any manner a story that I find even somewhat, even remotely a personal reading pleasure (and I can also really only recommend it to and for those of you who have no issues with horror stories and actually enjoy them). But in fact and indeed, my final ranking of only one star for Die schwarze Spinne is not only because I have found the presented plot too uncanny and too creepy for my likes and for what I can emotionally handle, but also because on an intellectual level, I have equally found Jeremias Gotthelf's intense focus on collective guilt and his rather problematic misogyny (with women in Die schwarze Spinne in my humble opinion rather being seen by the author as the root of all evil and as the conduit and the plaything of and for the Devil) as something at best problematic and majorly uncomfortably troubling.
November 17, 2021
And so the spider was first nowhere, then there, then down in the valley, then up in the mountains; it streaked through the grass, dropped from the ceiling, popped out of the ground.
this is why I don’t fuck with spiders and neither should you
read as part of spooky season haunted tales that hopefully keep me up till the witching hour
🕸 picture of dorian gray
🕸 we have always lived in the castle
🕸 rules for vanishing
🕸 dracula
🕸 dangers of smoking in bed
🕸 fever dream
🕸 dr.jekyll and mr.hyde
🕸 the houseguest and other stories
🕸 frankenstein in baghdad
🕸 the woman in black
🕸 carmilla
🕸 the collector
🕸 the only good indians
🕸 the black spider
September 1, 2025
2.5
The spider imagery was cool, but I have to admit I was mostly bored, and the story got quite repetitive, despite its brevity.
The spider imagery was cool, but I have to admit I was mostly bored, and the story got quite repetitive, despite its brevity.
November 1, 2013
A cautionary morality tale which will be appreciated by the religious-minded. It's surprising that this 1842 novella feels so modern,maybe cause the elemental struggle between the forces of good & evil has an evergreen,eternal aspect to it.
The quaint,charming village of Emmental,reminded me of the atmosphere in Haneke's The White Ribbon in that how the diabolical is always bubbling below the surface calm.
If you've enjoyed Hawthorne's Young Goodman Brown ( Stephen King has called it his favourite horror story.), then this is the book for you. There is a lot of richness to the text- a sense of historical time,class struggle,feminism,though,to be fair,the frame tale tends to drag towards the end. Still,a short,enjoyable read esp.for the Halloween season.
From the intro by H.M. Waidson:
"In 1949, Thomas Mann wrote that there was scarcely a work in world literature that he admired more than The Black Spider, and its position as one of the outstanding examples of narrative fiction in the German language is now generally recognized. Perhaps the psychological theories of Freud and Jung and the nightmare fantasies of Kafka had to be absorbed before the European imagination was ready for Gotthelf’s The Black Spider."
The quaint,charming village of Emmental,reminded me of the atmosphere in Haneke's The White Ribbon in that how the diabolical is always bubbling below the surface calm.
If you've enjoyed Hawthorne's Young Goodman Brown ( Stephen King has called it his favourite horror story.), then this is the book for you. There is a lot of richness to the text- a sense of historical time,class struggle,feminism,though,to be fair,the frame tale tends to drag towards the end. Still,a short,enjoyable read esp.for the Halloween season.
From the intro by H.M. Waidson:
"In 1949, Thomas Mann wrote that there was scarcely a work in world literature that he admired more than The Black Spider, and its position as one of the outstanding examples of narrative fiction in the German language is now generally recognized. Perhaps the psychological theories of Freud and Jung and the nightmare fantasies of Kafka had to be absorbed before the European imagination was ready for Gotthelf’s The Black Spider."
September 3, 2016
The Devil seals the promise with a kiss. And when the promise is broken, the cheek where he placed his lips starts to burn. A black mound forms. Legs crack out of the skin. And the black spider is loose. An allegory, perhaps; and a crackling good read.
October 25, 2017
A classic in horror literature (first published in 1842), "The Black Spider" still manages to provoke dread in readers. While rather bombastic, this review (written in 2013) pretty much sums up some of my issues with religion, faith, and belief. It's perhaps odd and ironic that horror fiction can elicit strong spiritual and faith responses in me, but I've always found it to be true. Then again, horror stories have always been some of the most moralistic and religiously pedantic stories. Just look at the Bible: it's full of horror stories...
“God-fearing” is not an adjective one hears a lot these days. When it is used, it is more often than not accompanied with looks of either indifference or confusion.
The indifference inhabits the faces of those who no longer---or never actually did to begin with---believe in God: Why and how can you fear something that doesn’t exist? The concept is ridiculous.
On the other hand, the confusion emanates in the countenances of many believers, devout or on-the-fence, who equally don’t understand the concept of fearing God. It is, for many, antithetical to a view of God as a deity of Love and Forgiveness and Ultimate Peace. Why would you fear God, if God is Pure Love? The concept is ridiculous.
It goes without saying that many religious-minded people have lost their ability to fear God. Much of that is due to the society in which they live in, a 21st-century society that has eliminated any (viable) form of accountability for anyone.
Deiphobia (probably not the best word to use to describe the type of God-fearing that I am referring to, but it will do) is supported by the idea of accountability, if not in this life then in the next.
An argument could be made that much of that supportive idea has been eroded by a secularization of society, an argument that many conservatives make about liberals. After all, most liberals (conservatives claim) don’t like accountability because it goes against the liberal concepts of freedom, self-expression, and individual autonomy.
Of course, the liberal argument can be made just as easily that most conservatives have lost sight of their own accountability and are guided more and more by self-interest.
In any case, regardless of where one stands on the political spectrum, accountability is lost, and perhaps nowhere is it most visible than on our TV screens.
On a daily basis we are given images of high-powered corporate executives who have made bad financial decisions that have ruined the lives of thousands of people, and they are often given nothing more than a slap on the wrist, due to loopholes and laws written into the system that protect them from prosecution. The more money you steal in this country, the less accountable you are.
We elect politicians who ignore the majority views and mandates of their constituents to do as they please, making them essentially accountable to no one, least of all those they are meant to represent. The more political power you gain, the less accountable you are...
We root for and secretly envy reality show “celebrities” for being ruthless and finding new ways to screw over people in order to get ahead, and this behavior is rewarded with prizes. Why would I fear God if I can get away with anything? The concept is ridiculous.
Accountability, the primary structural support of deiphobia, has lost its sting in this world and, thusly, people have less and less to fear from God.
Of course, the other main structural support of deiphobia is belief, which, depending on the statistics one reads, is either seriously dwindling or transforming into something most religiously-minded people of yesteryear would not recognize as belief.
Arguably, many Christians today, liberal and conservative, play a game of “pick and choose” when it comes to matters of faith and doctrine. The more liberal-minded, according to the Right, have chosen to ignore certain Biblical statutes, most recently in regards to homosexuality and same-sex marriage. The more conservative-minded, according to the Left, have lost sight of the compassion toward the poor, the disenfranchised, and the weaker among us, in direct contradiction to Christ’s teachings.
Both sides may make good points, but neither side can objectively be considered “right” or “wrong”, because neither side has a monopoly on Truth, an ever-elusive concept, especially in this morally relativistic society. While both sides would like to claim possession of the Absolute Truth, the real truth is: God only knows.
Many Christians (myself included) have lost the ability to fear God because many have lost the ability to believe in any accountability in this world, let alone the next one. If deiphobia is predicated on the principle that everything that we say or do has consequences, positive and negative, then, based on everything the media is telling us, that principle no longer holds much weight anymore and deiphobia is thusly no longer the over-riding motivator for the average person.
A glaring lack of consequences is oft-cited as the main reason parents seem to no longer be able to discipline their children.
It is the oft-cited reason educators are given for not being able to maintain classroom discipline.
It is the oft-cited reason why teen pregnancies seem to be on the rise (despite the fact, based on reliable statistics, that they are in fact NOT rising) or why violent crime is on the rise (also despite the statistics suggesting that the opposite is true).
It’s the excuse people give for unsympathetic Wall Streeters and politicians who continually make bad or unethical financial decisions that affect millions.
It’s the irony behind Evangelicals who rail against the destruction of the institution of marriage and the family due to same-sex marriage and yet later find themselves embroiled in scandalous adulterous (and occasionally homosexual) affairs.
It’s the befuddling inconvenient truth behind world business leaders and industrialists who continue to support environmentally destructive business methods and practices while completely dismissing all the scientific evidence pointing to the deleterious contribution that industry makes to global climate change.
Many Christians (myself included) have lost the ability to fear God because they have grown weary of the petty, prudish provincialism of a segment of the religiously-minded who refuses to listen to Reason. For this segment of the religious population, fear of God has been replaced with a fear of Science, a fear of Nature, a fear of a finite universe.
God, by definition, is supernatural, acting above and beyond Nature. In a universe governed by laws of nature and science, God ultimately has no place. For this reason, these desperate believers cling tenaciously to God and refute science because, in their mind, to accept scientific fact would be to destroy their belief in God.
Perhaps they are right, but some of us can’t accept, let alone fear, a God that dissipates like the pollen of a dandelion in the winds of knowledge and facts. How could anyone believe in a God like that, if it meant denial of reality? The concept is ridiculous.
Strangely enough, the only time a real fear of God comes into play for me is when I read a good, old-fashioned scary horror story or watch a well-made horror movie. I have always loved the horror genre, mainly because I am intrigued---and terrified---by the premise that there are things still beyond our comprehension or even imagination about our vast universe. I am fascinated and horrified by the thought that, somewhere out there, great cosmic bogeymen float in the ether, and we are merely dust particles to them. So, it’s not so much a sense of a belief in God that is triggered by these stories as it is more of a sense of a strong suspension of disbelief.
It’s nearly impossible to prove a positive such as “God exists” mainly because there is no frame of reference. People simply don't think about why life is good when life is actually good. They just accept it.
Building a strong case, however, for the negative---demons and Hell and eternal damnation---is much easier because we have a frame of reference. When times are bad, we do nothing but question why: Why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this? Why does God/the Universe hate me?
Everyone knows that bad emotions are felt more powerfully than good emotions. We all experience pain and loss and sadness throughout our lives, and when we do, it feels like the good times never happened or they happened to someone else, so we can, deep within our dark subconscious, easily believe in a place of eternal pain, continual loss, and endless sadness.
Heaven, in all its eternal glory and brightness and never-ending Joy, is frankly difficult to buy as a concept. Hell, on the other hand, simply isn’t that hard to imagine.
Some of the best fire-and-brimstone preachers in history have capitalized on this fact. In 1842, one of those preachers (whether or not he was of the “fire-and-brimstone” variety is speculation on my part) wrote a weird little novel, technically a novella, that, even by today’s standards of the horror genre---a genre lately inundated with a disturbing amount of violence simply for the sake of violence (think “torture porn” movies like the “Saw” series or “Hostel”)---still manages to be downright scary.
Albert Bitzius, a Swiss pastor (writing under the pseudonym Jeremias Gotthelf) penned “The Black Spider” almost 200 years ago, but what it has to say about society is still relevant today. Thankfully, the New York Review Books (NYRB) publishers, along with translator Susan Bernofsky, felt the same way.
The story starts out pleasant enough, during a christening ceremony held on a beautiful summer Sunday morning in a small village in Switzerland. As townsfolk celebrate in the home of the village’s oldest patriarch, one curious guest addresses the grandfather about the strange blackened post stuck in blatantly amidst the newly-refurbished window frame. Hesitantly at first, the old man begins a story-within-a-story about a depraved, corrupt knight who cruelly abuses his serfs, a pact made with the Devil, and a demonic curse that plagues the entire countryside and threatens to kill every last person.
“The Black Spider” is, like all good horror stories, a morality tale that stands as a warning to all God-fearing readers to lead a godly life. It covers all bases, too, from warning the upper-class about mistreating the poor and needy; warning workers from being insubordinate to their superiors; warning the strong-headed from going against the majority rule; warning God-fearing Christians from becoming corrupted from worldly things; warning all from dabbling in the Black Arts. Most of all, it is a dark fable that warns readers to lead a God-fearing life, or else. Because there is a very good reason one should fear God.
I can only imagine that, at the time of its publication, its impact would have been earth-shattering terror. It was, I imagine, the type of book that church pastors secretly adored but outwardly shunned for its macabre themes. It was probably the type of book parents forbade children to read, thus making it more of a fun forbidden fruit to enjoy at night, by candlelight, after everyone was asleep. It was, I’m sure, the kind of books that gave many readers nightmares for weeks after reading it.
Today’s horror audiences probably wouldn’t flinch. Numbed by blood-drenched films filled with gut-splattering aliens and blade-fingered child murderers that haunt dreams, bored by unstoppable hockey-masked machete-wielding summer camp squatters and jigsaw-inspired serial killers who make others do the work for them, the horrors of “The Black Spider” are comparatively tame.
Yet, like the best kind of horror stories, this one manages to get under the skin and plant seeds of horrific wonder. Much like its titular creature, this book spins a tight web of dread and discomfort that is difficult to shake long after reading it.
“God-fearing” is not an adjective one hears a lot these days. When it is used, it is more often than not accompanied with looks of either indifference or confusion.
The indifference inhabits the faces of those who no longer---or never actually did to begin with---believe in God: Why and how can you fear something that doesn’t exist? The concept is ridiculous.
On the other hand, the confusion emanates in the countenances of many believers, devout or on-the-fence, who equally don’t understand the concept of fearing God. It is, for many, antithetical to a view of God as a deity of Love and Forgiveness and Ultimate Peace. Why would you fear God, if God is Pure Love? The concept is ridiculous.
It goes without saying that many religious-minded people have lost their ability to fear God. Much of that is due to the society in which they live in, a 21st-century society that has eliminated any (viable) form of accountability for anyone.
Deiphobia (probably not the best word to use to describe the type of God-fearing that I am referring to, but it will do) is supported by the idea of accountability, if not in this life then in the next.
An argument could be made that much of that supportive idea has been eroded by a secularization of society, an argument that many conservatives make about liberals. After all, most liberals (conservatives claim) don’t like accountability because it goes against the liberal concepts of freedom, self-expression, and individual autonomy.
Of course, the liberal argument can be made just as easily that most conservatives have lost sight of their own accountability and are guided more and more by self-interest.
In any case, regardless of where one stands on the political spectrum, accountability is lost, and perhaps nowhere is it most visible than on our TV screens.
On a daily basis we are given images of high-powered corporate executives who have made bad financial decisions that have ruined the lives of thousands of people, and they are often given nothing more than a slap on the wrist, due to loopholes and laws written into the system that protect them from prosecution. The more money you steal in this country, the less accountable you are.
We elect politicians who ignore the majority views and mandates of their constituents to do as they please, making them essentially accountable to no one, least of all those they are meant to represent. The more political power you gain, the less accountable you are...
We root for and secretly envy reality show “celebrities” for being ruthless and finding new ways to screw over people in order to get ahead, and this behavior is rewarded with prizes. Why would I fear God if I can get away with anything? The concept is ridiculous.
Accountability, the primary structural support of deiphobia, has lost its sting in this world and, thusly, people have less and less to fear from God.
Of course, the other main structural support of deiphobia is belief, which, depending on the statistics one reads, is either seriously dwindling or transforming into something most religiously-minded people of yesteryear would not recognize as belief.
Arguably, many Christians today, liberal and conservative, play a game of “pick and choose” when it comes to matters of faith and doctrine. The more liberal-minded, according to the Right, have chosen to ignore certain Biblical statutes, most recently in regards to homosexuality and same-sex marriage. The more conservative-minded, according to the Left, have lost sight of the compassion toward the poor, the disenfranchised, and the weaker among us, in direct contradiction to Christ’s teachings.
Both sides may make good points, but neither side can objectively be considered “right” or “wrong”, because neither side has a monopoly on Truth, an ever-elusive concept, especially in this morally relativistic society. While both sides would like to claim possession of the Absolute Truth, the real truth is: God only knows.
Many Christians (myself included) have lost the ability to fear God because many have lost the ability to believe in any accountability in this world, let alone the next one. If deiphobia is predicated on the principle that everything that we say or do has consequences, positive and negative, then, based on everything the media is telling us, that principle no longer holds much weight anymore and deiphobia is thusly no longer the over-riding motivator for the average person.
A glaring lack of consequences is oft-cited as the main reason parents seem to no longer be able to discipline their children.
It is the oft-cited reason educators are given for not being able to maintain classroom discipline.
It is the oft-cited reason why teen pregnancies seem to be on the rise (despite the fact, based on reliable statistics, that they are in fact NOT rising) or why violent crime is on the rise (also despite the statistics suggesting that the opposite is true).
It’s the excuse people give for unsympathetic Wall Streeters and politicians who continually make bad or unethical financial decisions that affect millions.
It’s the irony behind Evangelicals who rail against the destruction of the institution of marriage and the family due to same-sex marriage and yet later find themselves embroiled in scandalous adulterous (and occasionally homosexual) affairs.
It’s the befuddling inconvenient truth behind world business leaders and industrialists who continue to support environmentally destructive business methods and practices while completely dismissing all the scientific evidence pointing to the deleterious contribution that industry makes to global climate change.
Many Christians (myself included) have lost the ability to fear God because they have grown weary of the petty, prudish provincialism of a segment of the religiously-minded who refuses to listen to Reason. For this segment of the religious population, fear of God has been replaced with a fear of Science, a fear of Nature, a fear of a finite universe.
God, by definition, is supernatural, acting above and beyond Nature. In a universe governed by laws of nature and science, God ultimately has no place. For this reason, these desperate believers cling tenaciously to God and refute science because, in their mind, to accept scientific fact would be to destroy their belief in God.
Perhaps they are right, but some of us can’t accept, let alone fear, a God that dissipates like the pollen of a dandelion in the winds of knowledge and facts. How could anyone believe in a God like that, if it meant denial of reality? The concept is ridiculous.
Strangely enough, the only time a real fear of God comes into play for me is when I read a good, old-fashioned scary horror story or watch a well-made horror movie. I have always loved the horror genre, mainly because I am intrigued---and terrified---by the premise that there are things still beyond our comprehension or even imagination about our vast universe. I am fascinated and horrified by the thought that, somewhere out there, great cosmic bogeymen float in the ether, and we are merely dust particles to them. So, it’s not so much a sense of a belief in God that is triggered by these stories as it is more of a sense of a strong suspension of disbelief.
It’s nearly impossible to prove a positive such as “God exists” mainly because there is no frame of reference. People simply don't think about why life is good when life is actually good. They just accept it.
Building a strong case, however, for the negative---demons and Hell and eternal damnation---is much easier because we have a frame of reference. When times are bad, we do nothing but question why: Why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this? Why does God/the Universe hate me?
Everyone knows that bad emotions are felt more powerfully than good emotions. We all experience pain and loss and sadness throughout our lives, and when we do, it feels like the good times never happened or they happened to someone else, so we can, deep within our dark subconscious, easily believe in a place of eternal pain, continual loss, and endless sadness.
Heaven, in all its eternal glory and brightness and never-ending Joy, is frankly difficult to buy as a concept. Hell, on the other hand, simply isn’t that hard to imagine.
Some of the best fire-and-brimstone preachers in history have capitalized on this fact. In 1842, one of those preachers (whether or not he was of the “fire-and-brimstone” variety is speculation on my part) wrote a weird little novel, technically a novella, that, even by today’s standards of the horror genre---a genre lately inundated with a disturbing amount of violence simply for the sake of violence (think “torture porn” movies like the “Saw” series or “Hostel”)---still manages to be downright scary.
Albert Bitzius, a Swiss pastor (writing under the pseudonym Jeremias Gotthelf) penned “The Black Spider” almost 200 years ago, but what it has to say about society is still relevant today. Thankfully, the New York Review Books (NYRB) publishers, along with translator Susan Bernofsky, felt the same way.
The story starts out pleasant enough, during a christening ceremony held on a beautiful summer Sunday morning in a small village in Switzerland. As townsfolk celebrate in the home of the village’s oldest patriarch, one curious guest addresses the grandfather about the strange blackened post stuck in blatantly amidst the newly-refurbished window frame. Hesitantly at first, the old man begins a story-within-a-story about a depraved, corrupt knight who cruelly abuses his serfs, a pact made with the Devil, and a demonic curse that plagues the entire countryside and threatens to kill every last person.
“The Black Spider” is, like all good horror stories, a morality tale that stands as a warning to all God-fearing readers to lead a godly life. It covers all bases, too, from warning the upper-class about mistreating the poor and needy; warning workers from being insubordinate to their superiors; warning the strong-headed from going against the majority rule; warning God-fearing Christians from becoming corrupted from worldly things; warning all from dabbling in the Black Arts. Most of all, it is a dark fable that warns readers to lead a God-fearing life, or else. Because there is a very good reason one should fear God.
I can only imagine that, at the time of its publication, its impact would have been earth-shattering terror. It was, I imagine, the type of book that church pastors secretly adored but outwardly shunned for its macabre themes. It was probably the type of book parents forbade children to read, thus making it more of a fun forbidden fruit to enjoy at night, by candlelight, after everyone was asleep. It was, I’m sure, the kind of books that gave many readers nightmares for weeks after reading it.
Today’s horror audiences probably wouldn’t flinch. Numbed by blood-drenched films filled with gut-splattering aliens and blade-fingered child murderers that haunt dreams, bored by unstoppable hockey-masked machete-wielding summer camp squatters and jigsaw-inspired serial killers who make others do the work for them, the horrors of “The Black Spider” are comparatively tame.
Yet, like the best kind of horror stories, this one manages to get under the skin and plant seeds of horrific wonder. Much like its titular creature, this book spins a tight web of dread and discomfort that is difficult to shake long after reading it.
September 5, 2010
I have a general rule that, once I have started to read a book, I must continue with it to the end before I can claim the right to comment on it.
In the case of 'The Black Spider', I was beginning to get depressed by page 20 of this classic early nineteenth century Swiss horror novella. One fifth of the tale gone and I had been treated to a lengthy, rather dull and wholesome account of a christening feast for the child of a prosperous Swiss peasant circa 1842.
But 'Jeremias Gotthelf' knows what he is doing. He has set the reader up for a multi-layered morality tale that loosely bases itself on pre-modern folk interpretations of the causes of the plague. He weaves, from the security of the first section, a genuinely horrific and disturbing tale of a demon black spider that punishes all those who have defied God and tried to short-circuit the demands of authority with an appeal to the Devil. The spider, a truly nasty creation, punishes not a few good people also (although the reader knows that these latter die only to take the straight path to Heaven).
I wonder which is more horrific today - the graphic account of death and mayhem at the behest of the spider or the fact that a whole society was being held together socially on the basis of fear and anxiety. The horror, for me, lay as much in the latter as the former but then, if the author is right, my lack of fear of God would have meant that I would not have lasted long if the demon spider had been released in my town.
How ironic was Gotthelf (actually a Protestant pastor called Josef Bitzius) in his portayal of the roots of evil? One suspects not at all. Allowing for any problems of translation, irony - that irony that says that, surely, this writer cannot possibly have believed this nonsense (not the spider as such, of course, because it is clearly allegorical but the pre-scientific belief-system to which the spider belongs)- is absent. Even if he gives himself a pseudonym, Pastor Bitzius fully endorses the values of the Swiss free peasant in a story that is valuable evidence of what historian Peter Laslett once called ' The World We Have Lost'.
However, we know that he was also a progressive by contemporary standards - interested in welfare issues - so there is an ambiguity in the tale. It is as if he wants to improve the lot of his peasant congregation but not at the expense of the values that hold the community together. Right conduct is cemented by a horror story that provides the space in which right-minded persons like Pastor Bitzius can do their stuff.
Regardless of Bitzius' own views (we are not expert), there is much meat for a cultural analysis of Middle European pre-modernity in its last days in this story. It is instructive to see how the recalcitrant crooked timber of men (house timber represents an apposite metaphor as you will see if you read the tale) is brought into line by fear of the physical and supernatural consequences of questioning tradition and defying authority. This is a quietly sinister book in more ways than the obvious ones.
'The Black Spider' is highly recommended if you are interested in the self-policing of sexuality and private conduct and the maintenance of order in pre-industrial rural Europe (remember that this is the world of witch-hunts as you read the tale) but also if you are interested in the evolution of the European tale of horror.
In the case of 'The Black Spider', I was beginning to get depressed by page 20 of this classic early nineteenth century Swiss horror novella. One fifth of the tale gone and I had been treated to a lengthy, rather dull and wholesome account of a christening feast for the child of a prosperous Swiss peasant circa 1842.
But 'Jeremias Gotthelf' knows what he is doing. He has set the reader up for a multi-layered morality tale that loosely bases itself on pre-modern folk interpretations of the causes of the plague. He weaves, from the security of the first section, a genuinely horrific and disturbing tale of a demon black spider that punishes all those who have defied God and tried to short-circuit the demands of authority with an appeal to the Devil. The spider, a truly nasty creation, punishes not a few good people also (although the reader knows that these latter die only to take the straight path to Heaven).
I wonder which is more horrific today - the graphic account of death and mayhem at the behest of the spider or the fact that a whole society was being held together socially on the basis of fear and anxiety. The horror, for me, lay as much in the latter as the former but then, if the author is right, my lack of fear of God would have meant that I would not have lasted long if the demon spider had been released in my town.
How ironic was Gotthelf (actually a Protestant pastor called Josef Bitzius) in his portayal of the roots of evil? One suspects not at all. Allowing for any problems of translation, irony - that irony that says that, surely, this writer cannot possibly have believed this nonsense (not the spider as such, of course, because it is clearly allegorical but the pre-scientific belief-system to which the spider belongs)- is absent. Even if he gives himself a pseudonym, Pastor Bitzius fully endorses the values of the Swiss free peasant in a story that is valuable evidence of what historian Peter Laslett once called ' The World We Have Lost'.
However, we know that he was also a progressive by contemporary standards - interested in welfare issues - so there is an ambiguity in the tale. It is as if he wants to improve the lot of his peasant congregation but not at the expense of the values that hold the community together. Right conduct is cemented by a horror story that provides the space in which right-minded persons like Pastor Bitzius can do their stuff.
Regardless of Bitzius' own views (we are not expert), there is much meat for a cultural analysis of Middle European pre-modernity in its last days in this story. It is instructive to see how the recalcitrant crooked timber of men (house timber represents an apposite metaphor as you will see if you read the tale) is brought into line by fear of the physical and supernatural consequences of questioning tradition and defying authority. This is a quietly sinister book in more ways than the obvious ones.
'The Black Spider' is highly recommended if you are interested in the self-policing of sexuality and private conduct and the maintenance of order in pre-industrial rural Europe (remember that this is the world of witch-hunts as you read the tale) but also if you are interested in the evolution of the European tale of horror.
May 20, 2015
No question that this is a violent, terrible, yet entertaining, story! Written in 1842, and despite reflecting attitudes common to the era about women and class, it is as scary and horrific and disgusting as any modern horror novel! Baby sacrifices! Large man-eating venomous spiders! Earthquakes! Ominous lightening and thunder storms! Evil, dissipated sadistic aristocrats! Impoverished tortured serfs! Vicious servants! Pervasive smell of sulfur! Priests in combat!
Quote from the book:
"Christine tried to comfort herself, saying it was nothing, it would soon go away; but the pain did not let up, and imperceptibly the speck grew, and soon everyone could see it and asked about the black dot on her face. No one thought much of it, but their words were like barbs driven into her heart, awakening the heavy thoughts once more, and again and again she was forced to remember that this was the very spot where the green man had kissed her, and that the same burning pain that had flashed through all her limbs at the moment of the kiss now burned and gnawed at her without respite. Sleep abandoned her, and everything she ate tasted of fire. Agitated, she went here, went there, seeking comfort and finding none, for the pain continued to sharpen, and the black dot grew larger and blacker, isolated dark streaks radiated from it, and at the edge of the spot that was closest to her mouth a bump had risen."
Cue the dark music of lost souls screaming....
Soooooooo. Grandfather decides to tell dark stories of damnation after a beautiful baptism. Why not, right? Strike while everyone is relaxed and happy and dressed up. So, after a delightfully described domestic affair of celebration, love, hope and shared bliss for the first 24 pages, the author sends the reader to a dark place of pain, death and eternal burning.
As usual with many religious allegories based on older folk tales, there is so much general collateral damage, it makes it difficult for me to see the point of being a Christian. I can never figure out why religious people think the Christian god is good or just, since every religious story demonstrates exactly the opposite (as in, god will kill the baby to teach you a lesson in humility and obedience). However, even if confused mixed and horrifically unjust messages is all the comfort the living can count on from faith, praise the Lord, right? Right?!?!?!
In the book, grandfather tells the happy baptismal party two stories, warning of the terrifying morality and justice of god. In story #1 the entire village is screwed, no matter if the serfs were good people or sinful and in horrific story #2 a household of low-class people are poisoned - the lesson to be learned is apparently the best protection from god's wrath is to be a white male of substance and leisure.
The Knight von Stoffeln, tortures, maims, beats, starves and murders his peasants while enjoying a very decadent lifestyle. His serfs suffer under his torments without relief. The priests commiserate, but nonetheless, the enslaved serfs' lives are made up of unending misery and early death without justice. But then a mysterious stranger, the green man, arrives.
In grandfather's second story, he tells of a slothful group of partying servants having too much fun after their 14-hour day slaving for their master with almost no recompense except for the rewards of servitude and serving their betters, without any economic or educational resources. To relax is declared wicked by our hero, god. This looks like another job for - the SPIDERS!
Did Gotthelf, a Swiss pastor, unconsciously expose the holes in Christian morality or was he consciously pointing them out, thinking fear should trump logic? The book is not a satire or a comedy, but is written as a deadly serious, if entertaining, morality tale, with familiar themes in Christian theology. However, to those of a critical and questioning turn of mind, the unintentional exposure of the logical craziness and incoherence behind the theology is screamingly apparent.
Whatever. Actually, I thought the most weird element, most startling and strongly outlined as THE plot peculiarity, if ever so swiftly inserted and moved swiftly past - was the virgin orphan boys, one in each story.
Why? Hmmmmm.
I didn't really see in this book an instance of justice actually done - only indiscriminate pointless death of the poor and innocent. Better to be killed than to follow your own judgement, or to learn from your mistakes (even a single error) or to take responsibility for your choices and correct your course! No actual redemption or relief is possible from god's punishment if you try to avoid starvation and torture. One wrong step and you're toast. God is watching.
In any case, I award points for inventive creativity, if nothing else.
Quote from the book:
"Christine tried to comfort herself, saying it was nothing, it would soon go away; but the pain did not let up, and imperceptibly the speck grew, and soon everyone could see it and asked about the black dot on her face. No one thought much of it, but their words were like barbs driven into her heart, awakening the heavy thoughts once more, and again and again she was forced to remember that this was the very spot where the green man had kissed her, and that the same burning pain that had flashed through all her limbs at the moment of the kiss now burned and gnawed at her without respite. Sleep abandoned her, and everything she ate tasted of fire. Agitated, she went here, went there, seeking comfort and finding none, for the pain continued to sharpen, and the black dot grew larger and blacker, isolated dark streaks radiated from it, and at the edge of the spot that was closest to her mouth a bump had risen."
Cue the dark music of lost souls screaming....
Soooooooo. Grandfather decides to tell dark stories of damnation after a beautiful baptism. Why not, right? Strike while everyone is relaxed and happy and dressed up. So, after a delightfully described domestic affair of celebration, love, hope and shared bliss for the first 24 pages, the author sends the reader to a dark place of pain, death and eternal burning.
As usual with many religious allegories based on older folk tales, there is so much general collateral damage, it makes it difficult for me to see the point of being a Christian. I can never figure out why religious people think the Christian god is good or just, since every religious story demonstrates exactly the opposite (as in, god will kill the baby to teach you a lesson in humility and obedience). However, even if confused mixed and horrifically unjust messages is all the comfort the living can count on from faith, praise the Lord, right? Right?!?!?!
In the book, grandfather tells the happy baptismal party two stories, warning of the terrifying morality and justice of god. In story #1 the entire village is screwed, no matter if the serfs were good people or sinful and in horrific story #2 a household of low-class people are poisoned - the lesson to be learned is apparently the best protection from god's wrath is to be a white male of substance and leisure.
The Knight von Stoffeln, tortures, maims, beats, starves and murders his peasants while enjoying a very decadent lifestyle. His serfs suffer under his torments without relief. The priests commiserate, but nonetheless, the enslaved serfs' lives are made up of unending misery and early death without justice. But then a mysterious stranger, the green man, arrives.
In grandfather's second story, he tells of a slothful group of partying servants having too much fun after their 14-hour day slaving for their master with almost no recompense except for the rewards of servitude and serving their betters, without any economic or educational resources. To relax is declared wicked by our hero, god. This looks like another job for - the SPIDERS!
Did Gotthelf, a Swiss pastor, unconsciously expose the holes in Christian morality or was he consciously pointing them out, thinking fear should trump logic? The book is not a satire or a comedy, but is written as a deadly serious, if entertaining, morality tale, with familiar themes in Christian theology. However, to those of a critical and questioning turn of mind, the unintentional exposure of the logical craziness and incoherence behind the theology is screamingly apparent.
Whatever. Actually, I thought the most weird element, most startling and strongly outlined as THE plot peculiarity, if ever so swiftly inserted and moved swiftly past - was the virgin orphan boys, one in each story.
Why? Hmmmmm.
I didn't really see in this book an instance of justice actually done - only indiscriminate pointless death of the poor and innocent. Better to be killed than to follow your own judgement, or to learn from your mistakes (even a single error) or to take responsibility for your choices and correct your course! No actual redemption or relief is possible from god's punishment if you try to avoid starvation and torture. One wrong step and you're toast. God is watching.
In any case, I award points for inventive creativity, if nothing else.
May 20, 2020
I stayed up late to finish The Black Spider. Sunday starts with a Baptism for an infant. The setting is the beautiful Swiss Countryside. The family must be well off as they are following up with quite a spread. A very happy celebration...until a guest remarks about "black window post beside the first window". Rumors that no one ever tells the whole story. So the grandfather does, it is this tale that leads us to the story of The Black Spider.
The story goes back hundreds of years, when the locals had to do what the Lord said. One Lord was demanding. They had to build him a castle and when that was done, he had them transplant full grown trees to line a walk way to the castle. He only gives them a month to complete the task.
Desperate to complete the task they get help from a man that promises he can help. It is a Devil's deal. He does get it done but the deal is struck. They think they might be able to avoid holding up their side of the bargain with the Devil and they try to weasel out of their side of it. It does not go well.
Gotthelf's tale is creepy: the spider's feet had burned their way through...Lesson of the day: you DO NOT mess with the devil. Deals with the devil, are a big no no.
The dark part of The Black Spider feels pretty modern the Author Gotthelf had quite the imagination and tells this creepy story well.
The story goes back hundreds of years, when the locals had to do what the Lord said. One Lord was demanding. They had to build him a castle and when that was done, he had them transplant full grown trees to line a walk way to the castle. He only gives them a month to complete the task.
Desperate to complete the task they get help from a man that promises he can help. It is a Devil's deal. He does get it done but the deal is struck. They think they might be able to avoid holding up their side of the bargain with the Devil and they try to weasel out of their side of it. It does not go well.
Gotthelf's tale is creepy: the spider's feet had burned their way through...Lesson of the day: you DO NOT mess with the devil. Deals with the devil, are a big no no.
The dark part of The Black Spider feels pretty modern the Author Gotthelf had quite the imagination and tells this creepy story well.
February 10, 2023
3.5*
This is a good solid read for a short story.
It seemed to try and hit the message home a little repetitively but the guts of this was very good. Its working with a couple of timelines here and although we dont get confused its made for an interesting read.
It all focuses on a baptism at first. When a member of the family tells us of the villages past and occurrences regarding a very un wanted visitor. This is spooky and surprising in parts and great as a halloween time story with the added element of life lesson.
The underlying message is very well put across and relevant.
It does seem to repeat a little more than is maybe needed towards the end. Although the story is so creepy and strong it would be hard to forget this. Ohhh the black spider!!😭😱. Very much worth the read!
This is a good solid read for a short story.
It seemed to try and hit the message home a little repetitively but the guts of this was very good. Its working with a couple of timelines here and although we dont get confused its made for an interesting read.
It all focuses on a baptism at first. When a member of the family tells us of the villages past and occurrences regarding a very un wanted visitor. This is spooky and surprising in parts and great as a halloween time story with the added element of life lesson.
The underlying message is very well put across and relevant.
It does seem to repeat a little more than is maybe needed towards the end. Although the story is so creepy and strong it would be hard to forget this. Ohhh the black spider!!😭😱. Very much worth the read!
April 15, 2017
Jaja, die Gemütlichkeit des Biedermeiers: Das Böse platzt einer Bäuerin in Form schwarzer Spinnen aus dem Gesicht, bis diese selbst zur Spinne wird, und der heuchlerischen, gotteslästerlichen Dorfbevölkerung stirbt das Vieh weg. Zum Glück gibt es aber eine devote Mutter und einen Typen namens Christian (klar), die es mit dem Bösen aufnehmen. Das Verrückte ist, dass diese moralinsaure Horror-Story sehr atmosphärisch, stimmungsvoll und gruselig ausgestaltet ist und deshalb einfach unglaublich viel Spaß macht!
November 1, 2017
Jeremias Gotthelf’s writing had profound influence on a young Friedrich Dürrenmatt. In a high school essay cited by his biographer, Peter Rüedi, Dürrenmatt wrote,
Gotthelf’s allegorical tale is obviously an extension of his sermons. His story, set in a small Swiss village and beginning in the Middle Ages, idyllic life is upset by economic hard times and difficult demands forced on peasants by the nobleman they serve. One of the women of the village, Christine, is cornered by a Grüner, the devil dressed in green with a fiery red, pointed beard, which was a common incarnation in folklore. For the price of an unbaptized child, which he convinces her to deliver to him when one is born, he promises the village a better, easier, more prosperous life. He seals the pact with a kiss:
The black spider is the embodiment of evil, either present in everyone’s life and thoughts, or submerged and forgotten, but always poised to reappear and reap havoc. The most obvious part of Gotthelf’s sermon is in the naming of the two most consequential characters. Christine—the fallen Christian and, of course, a woman—and Christian—a more aggressive Jesus-like character and, of course, a man. Christine and Christian: get it? Gotthelf’s Calvinist roots require the establishment and maintenance of a clear heirarchy:
„Dieser Mann war ein DICHTER. / Es war ein berühmter Dichter, das heißt ein zwar noch nicht bekannter Poet, der aber die besten Aussichten hatte dass, gesetzt der Fall, wenn man sein Gesammelte Werke im Jahre 3399 in einem Kehrichtkübel finden würde, er doch noch unter den Gelehrten jener fernen Zeiten Ansehen und Bedeutung finden würde.”Gotthelf was the pen name of Albert Bitzius, a Swiss pastor from the first half of the 19th century. Dürrenmatt was the son of Swiss pastor who, although he did not follow his father’s path, was obsessed with questions of theology, ethics, and justice his entire life. Dürrenmatt’s masterpiece, Der Besuch der alten Dame (The Visit) , was strongly influenced by Die schwarze Spinne. A commentator noted that Die schwarze Spinne, much like Der besuch der alten Dame, is a story about collective evil or, to put it more precisely, that each story is about “the democratization of evil” (die Demokratisierung des Bösen).
(“This man was a POET. / He was a famous poet, that is, not necessarily a well-known poet, but he had the best prospects, and, in case it happened, if one found his collected works in a garbage can in the year 3399, he would still be considered by the learned of that distant time of having earned and secured his reputation and significance.”)
Gotthelf’s allegorical tale is obviously an extension of his sermons. His story, set in a small Swiss village and beginning in the Middle Ages, idyllic life is upset by economic hard times and difficult demands forced on peasants by the nobleman they serve. One of the women of the village, Christine, is cornered by a Grüner, the devil dressed in green with a fiery red, pointed beard, which was a common incarnation in folklore. For the price of an unbaptized child, which he convinces her to deliver to him when one is born, he promises the village a better, easier, more prosperous life. He seals the pact with a kiss:
„Da berührte der spitzige Mund Christines Gesicht, und ihr war, als ob von spitzigen Eisen aus Feuer durch Mark und Bein fahre, durch Leib und Seele; und ein gelber Blitz fuhr zwischen ihnen durch und zeigte Christine freudig verzerrt des Grünen teuflisch Gesicht, und ein Donner fuhr über sie, als ob der Himmel zersprungen wäre.”Life improves in the valley, but the demand for an unbaptized child is not fulfilled, leading to the emergence of a black spider from the spot where the devil kissed Christine on the cheek.
(“The pointed mouth touched Christine’s face, and it was as if sharpened iron from the fire was driven from her marrow through her legs, through body and soul; a yellow bolt lit between them and Christine saw the joyful, twisted, satanic face of the green one, and it thundered over them, as if Heaven had exploded.”)
The black spider is the embodiment of evil, either present in everyone’s life and thoughts, or submerged and forgotten, but always poised to reappear and reap havoc. The most obvious part of Gotthelf’s sermon is in the naming of the two most consequential characters. Christine—the fallen Christian and, of course, a woman—and Christian—a more aggressive Jesus-like character and, of course, a man. Christine and Christian: get it? Gotthelf’s Calvinist roots require the establishment and maintenance of a clear heirarchy:
„Daher war drunten keine Ordnung und bald auch keine Gottesfurcht, und wo kein Meister ist, geht es so durchweg. Wenn kein Meister oben am Tische sitzt, kein Meister im Hause die Ohren spitzt, kein Meister draußen und drinnen die Zügel hält, so meint sich bald der der Größte, welcher am wüstesten tut, und der der Beste, welcher die ruchlosesten Reden führt.”Redemption and order requires fear, not of evil, but of God.
(“Therefore, no Order was down there and soon also no fear of God, and where no master exists, that, without exception, is how it goes. When there is no master above who sits at the table, no master in the house who keeps his ears peaked, no master outside and in who holds the reins, then pretty soon the biggest start to think that he is the best, creates the most chaos, which leads to the most evil talk.”)
„Und so blieb es in der Familie, und man fürchtete die Spinne nicht, denn man fürchtete Gott, und, wie es gewesen war, so soll es, so Gott will, auch blieben, solange hier ein Haus steht, solange Kinder den Eltern folgen in Wegen und Gedanken.”In Gotthelf’s universe, it is the primacy of God, of organized religion, and of humanity’s submission to them that brings moral order to human life. In Dürrenmatt’s, humanism, ethics, and justice are fragile; his is ultimately a plea for individuals’ decency and fairness to counter human fallibility. Both seek a path to redemption, they just have differing ways of getting there. While I was entertained by Gotthelf, Dürrenmatt’s questions and challenges haunt me every day.
(“And so it was with the family, and one didn’t fear the spider because one feared God, and, as was, so shall it be, so God wants to remain, as long as a house stands here, as long as children follow the ways and wishes of their parents.”)
August 1, 2013
First time that I am the first person to rate this novella. A story about cruel knights, their peasants and the devil. There is also a headstrong female, one of the wives who thinks she can trick the devil. Who do you think won? Oh and if you hate spiders this book will probably give you nightmares.
Read
August 12, 2023Originally published in 1842, The Black Spider is the most celebrated work of Swiss author Jeremias Gotthelf. A 100-page gothic horror novella with bleak, dark religious themes.
Like many other gothic works of its time, The Black Spider begins with a framing device: a community in an idyllic Swiss valley are celebrating the baptism of a newborn babe.
During the celebrations, an elderly man — who has lived in the same house in the valley all his life — is caught staring ominously at a particularly old and blackened wooden post in his home.
My full thoughts: https://booksandbao.com/best-horror-n...
Like many other gothic works of its time, The Black Spider begins with a framing device: a community in an idyllic Swiss valley are celebrating the baptism of a newborn babe.
During the celebrations, an elderly man — who has lived in the same house in the valley all his life — is caught staring ominously at a particularly old and blackened wooden post in his home.
My full thoughts: https://booksandbao.com/best-horror-n...
January 14, 2019
Time has a way of making us forget to be good people. This little story shows us that. Everything has a price.
Leer horror/terror termina siempre siendo una experiencia extraña. Por alguna razon espero encontrar algo que me haga gritar o algo asi.si ya se, super estupido
En esta historia corta de terror sobrenatural, un pueblo es tentado por la maldad y golpeado por una maldicion. Nos muestra que ante una situacion desesperada, cualquiera aunque tenga buena intencion, cae en el camino incorrecto, y en esta historia, un pueblo es llevado casi a la perdicion. La atmosfera es increiblemente siniestra de una forma sutil y elegante.
La vena religiosa y el mensaje de Temor a Dios es obvia pero sirve mucho hoy en dia tambien. Cualquier lector moderno leera The Black Spider y va a concordar que una vez tocado el mal, este no desaparece ni de tu vida, ni de tu historia.
Leer horror/terror termina siempre siendo una experiencia extraña. Por alguna razon espero encontrar algo que me haga gritar o algo asi.
En esta historia corta de terror sobrenatural, un pueblo es tentado por la maldad y golpeado por una maldicion. Nos muestra que ante una situacion desesperada, cualquiera aunque tenga buena intencion, cae en el camino incorrecto, y en esta historia, un pueblo es llevado casi a la perdicion. La atmosfera es increiblemente siniestra de una forma sutil y elegante.
La vena religiosa y el mensaje de Temor a Dios es obvia pero sirve mucho hoy en dia tambien. Cualquier lector moderno leera The Black Spider y va a concordar que una vez tocado el mal, este no desaparece ni de tu vida, ni de tu historia.
May 3, 2020
3.5 stars rounded up because the novella gave me such a great feeling of childhood and home.
It is the tale within a tale about a deal the villagers negotiated with the devil but didn't pay their end of the bargain, so the devil sends his punishment in the form of a black spider.
Gotthelf tells bis story in a vivid prose and a fast pace. It is one of those narrations where you can't put the book down once you have started reading.
I read it in the original Swiss German and it was lovely to hear words again I haven't heard since my childhood (I grew up at the Swiss border). The description of the devil and the attempts of the villagers to outsmart him brought back memories of local myths my father told me in my childhood. The writing didn't feel outdated, the horror was delightfully creepy without being yucky.
It is the tale within a tale about a deal the villagers negotiated with the devil but didn't pay their end of the bargain, so the devil sends his punishment in the form of a black spider.
Gotthelf tells bis story in a vivid prose and a fast pace. It is one of those narrations where you can't put the book down once you have started reading.
I read it in the original Swiss German and it was lovely to hear words again I haven't heard since my childhood (I grew up at the Swiss border). The description of the devil and the attempts of the villagers to outsmart him brought back memories of local myths my father told me in my childhood. The writing didn't feel outdated, the horror was delightfully creepy without being yucky.
April 12, 2024
Finished reading The Black Spider. I know for a fact that some people did like this book. But for me it didn't do much in regard to me liking it. It did have some weird scenes in it. My rating for it will be 3/5
November 2, 2015
Buddy read with the spookalicious Karly.
PSA: NEVER FEAR, THERE WILL BE NO SPIDER GIFS IN THIS REVIEW.
Everyone knows you don't agree to anything with the devil. The only time that worked out was in a Charlie Daniels song, and Bedazzled (but Brendan Fraser had to go through a lot of crap first, so there). The people in this story are God-fearing enough to know that, but circumstances being what they were, shit happened. (It was the knights' fault. Those stupid asshole knights wanting their stupid asshole birches.)
This was surprisingly good after a weird beginning. It was a fast read for a classic, and a fairly decent translation. There was some crazy stuff in here, enough for sheer entertainment value, which is usually lacking in classics.
The story does get a bit preachy toward the end. Good people who believe in God will never have troubles! Translation: People who do not believe in God are the frickin' worst, engaging in all sorts of crimes against humanity and farm animals, and the devil will get them. Because good people who don't believe in God don't exist, duh.
Shit, I'm screwed.
PSA: NEVER FEAR, THERE WILL BE NO SPIDER GIFS IN THIS REVIEW.
Everyone knows you don't agree to anything with the devil. The only time that worked out was in a Charlie Daniels song, and Bedazzled (but Brendan Fraser had to go through a lot of crap first, so there). The people in this story are God-fearing enough to know that, but circumstances being what they were, shit happened. (It was the knights' fault. Those stupid asshole knights wanting their stupid asshole birches.)
This was surprisingly good after a weird beginning. It was a fast read for a classic, and a fairly decent translation. There was some crazy stuff in here, enough for sheer entertainment value, which is usually lacking in classics.
The story does get a bit preachy toward the end. Good people who believe in God will never have troubles! Translation: People who do not believe in God are the frickin' worst, engaging in all sorts of crimes against humanity and farm animals, and the devil will get them. Because good people who don't believe in God don't exist, duh.
Shit, I'm screwed.
October 20, 2013
I'm tempted to say that the best thing about The Black Spider is its cover in the new NYRB edition. Originally published in 1842 by the Swiss pastor Jeremias Gotthelf and translated several times into English, this classic horror story was one of Thomas Mann's favorite tales (and played a role in the composition of Doctor Faustus). For me, it was a bit flat despite its bizarre arachno-theology. But however mechanistic its plot, the framing device of the fiction held my attention all the way through. (It probably helped that I was stuck in a plane with nowhere to go.)
January 4, 2016
Susan Bernofsky has done such an incredible job with her translation of Die Schwarze Spinne that I created a new shelf for it: "Magnificent Translations." Here is one small, perfect word she chose: "vainglorious." You just don't see that word very much any longer in English language books. But how perfect a word to capture Gotthelf's early 19th century prose, as well as his world view. Wonderful.
April 10, 2018
Bijzondere klassieker uit de Biedermeier-periode. Een religieuze allegorie, bij momenten ijzingwekkend. Bewonderd door Elias Canetti en Thomas Mann. Originele en complexe narratieve structuur, met een tweeledige raamvertelling waarbij het interne verhaal op geheel natuurlijke wijze overvloeit in de raamvertelling zelf.
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