Oskar Baum's Zwei Erzählungen collects two of his most striking novellas. They're separate stories, but they speak to each other in fascinating ways, both exploring isolation, perception, and the fragile walls we build between ourselves and others.

The Story

The first story, 'Uferdasein', is deeply personal. It follows a man, a musician, who suddenly goes blind. The narrative doesn't just tell us he's blind; it makes us feel the disorientation. The world he knew through sight dissolves, replaced by sounds, smells, textures, and memory. We follow his struggle—the frustration, the shame, the slow, painful process of learning to navigate a reality he can no longer see. It's a story about losing one identity and fighting to forge a new one from the pieces.

The second, 'Die Tür', is a complete shift in tone but not in theme. A man moves into a boarding house and becomes fixated on a single, always-locked door in the hallway. No one talks about it. His healthy curiosity warps into a consuming obsession. Who or what is behind that door? The mystery eats away at him, affecting his sleep, his work, his sanity. It's a brilliant study of how a simple, unanswered question can become the center of a universe, pushing out everything else.

Why You Should Read It

You should read this because Baum writes from a place of profound lived experience. His descriptions in 'Uferdasein' of a world perceived through touch and sound are unlike anything I've read; they feel true, not imagined. It changes how you think about the space around you. In 'Die Tür,' he shows a perfect understanding of how loneliness can twist a mundane mystery into a personal crisis. The characters aren't heroes. They're just people trying to cope, often failing, and sometimes finding a grim kind of peace. There's no sentimentality here, just clear-eyed and compassionate observation.

Final Verdict

This book is perfect for readers who love character-driven stories and psychological depth over fast-paced action. If you enjoy the tense, interior worlds of writers like Stefan Zweig or the early, psychological work of Kafka (a close friend of Baum's, incidentally), you'll find a kindred spirit here. It's also a must-read for anyone interested in disability narratives written from an authentic, early-20th century perspective. It's a slim volume, but it packs a serious emotional and intellectual punch. Don't expect easy answers or neat endings—expect to be moved and to think about these characters long after you close the book.