Hann Klüth: Roman

In this quietly haunting novel we step into the world of a solitary lighthouse keeper and his aging wife, living on the bleak coast of Greifswald. Their days are marked by the slow ticking of a cast‑iron clock, the relentless sea fog, and the whispered rituals that keep illness at bay. When the keeper’s fever spikes, the couple’s fragile routine unravels, and the looming presence of “the beetles” on the clock face becomes a unsettling omen.

The story is rendered in a lyrical, dialect‑tinged prose that captures both the harshness of the shoreline and the tender, if strained, bond between the two characters. Amid the crackle of oil lamps and the clatter of a nearby boat laden with potatoes, everyday chores turn into delicate negotiations with fate. As the first act unfolds, listeners are drawn into a landscape where time seems to slow, and every breath may signal either hope or an inevitable decline.