You Should Have Left

April 17, 2017
A family vacation in the mountains goes terrifyingly off-script in Kehlmann’s brief and chilling novel. The narrator, a screenwriter working on a sequel to his last successful film, begins a notebook to record the highlights of the trip. At first, this record shows the conventional frustrations of marriage: the screenwriter feels distant from his wife, an actress named Susanna, and is bored by caring for their four-year-old daughter, Esther. As the rift between spouses widens, however, he begins to notice and describe inexplicable and increasingly frightening phenomena. His reflection goes missing from the windows of the rented house; photographs appear and disappear from the walls; disturbing dreams of “an empty room, a naked light bulb on the ceiling,” and a woman with “awful eyes” haunts his sleep. Then a stranger encountered in the nearest village advises him to “quickly get away,” and the same message also begins to appear in the notebook, in his own handwriting—but it may already be too late to escape the house’s influence. Kehlmann (Measuring the World) makes deft use of horror staples and offers commentary on the distinction between art and life: “in a movie it’s funny when a life falls apart, because the people say clever things while it’s happening, but in reality it’s only dismal and repugnant.” But the plot of this spare and occasionally thrilling novel is ultimately indistinguishable from a by-the-numbers horror flick.

May 1, 2017
A beautifully crafted exercise in terror from one of Germany's most celebrated contemporary authors.The unnamed narrator of this novella is a screenwriter trying to complete a sequel to his hit, Besties. In order to help him work, he and his wife retreat to a rental house in the mountains, taking their 4-year-old daughter with them. This is, of course, hardly a distraction-free environment. The notebook that is supposed to be devoted to his script is filled with more personal matter--good-natured grumbling about raising a small child, descriptions of the tensions within his marriage, and complaints about the difficulties he's having figuring out what happens next for his characters. The parenting vignettes are funny: "Meanwhile Esther was telling us about a friend from preschool who is named either Lisi or Ilse or Else and either took a toy away from her or gave her one...; little kids are not good storytellers." The conflicts between the narrator and his wife, Susanna, are less innocent, and they threaten to darken what should be an innocuous chick flick. Then the bad dreams begin, and it's not long before the line between these night terrors and everyday reality begins to blur. This novel is, in many ways, a classic haunted-house tale. There are warnings about the house from the people in the village below. There's a creeping sense of horror. There are frightening phenomena that the narrator cannot explain. And there are specters. Kehlmann (F, 2014, etc.) uses all these familiar tropes beautifully. But he also creates a sense of existential dread that transcends the typical ghost story. The relationship between the narrator and his daughter adds a level of anxiety; he has to protect her not just from the house, but also from knowledge of what's happening. And Kehlmann deserves special notice for recognizing just how uncanny a baby monitor can be. A book to keep you up at night.

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