#stefan kiesbye

Your House is On Fire, Your Children All Gone by Stefan Kiesbye (⭐⭐⭐)

I picked this slim novel up in a book buying binge last fall, when I was craving some real eerie reading deep in my bones. It’s one of those novels that doesn’t really do a great job explaining itself, but the jacket comparison to Shirley Jackson is what pushed me to take it to the register.

It reads like a cross between short story and novel: each chapter is told by one of four children (or, as they age, adolescents) who live in a small German village. The period is post-WWII, but likely starts within the first few years after the war. And the first chapter post-prologue is perfect table setting: an engaging enough tale of small town life and ritual, ended with a real punch which immediately justified the Jackson comparisons. I was in.

For my tastes, the first chapter was the strongest, if you’re looking for disturbing psychological horror. But what became more interesting was how the chapters built and how each performed within the genre. Early on in the book the horror is manifest and physical - the chapters concern the physical violence we inflict on one another with little thought to consequence or compassion. Since the violence is usually inflicted by and/or upon children, it’s made all the more troubling.

As the foursome grow older, though, the horror is not born out in physical acts of cruelty, but the subtler shades of how we psychologically harm one another - through accident or otherwise. Yet the consequences were deeper; we can heal from physical wounds, emotional ones leave scars we may never even recognize within ourselves. Which against the background of the first half really made me consider: was I more comfortable with these chapters because of the stories which came before? or because this is the kind of violence we more commonly trade in? It’s easy to stop ourselves from encouraging a child to drown himself; it’s harder to stop ourselves from indulging our jealousies and resentments via manipulation, passive-aggression, and justifying our own rewards. But Kiesbye clearly outlines that those violences are no less impactful, on both victim and perpetrator. Then, in the final chapters, he merges these two kinds: the kind of violence that manifests as physical harm but is rooted within internal struggles, and carries the heavier consequences of each form.

In this episode Stefan Kiesbye reads “Dictionary” and “Litter,” two short companion pieces. These stories are characteristic of his work; they’re dark and uncomfortable and not for the faint of heart.