Bernhard Kellermann's Ingeborg is a quiet storm of a book. Published in 1906, it feels both old-fashioned and surprisingly modern in its exploration of obsession and perception.

The Story

Peter Holm, a struggling but talented painter, stumbles upon a portrait in a dusty second-hand shop. The subject is a stunning young woman named Ingeborg. He's captivated, buys it for a song, and hangs it in his studio. The next day, walking through the city, he's stopped in his tracks. There she is—the living, breathing double of the woman in the painting. This chance encounter sparks an all-consuming fixation. Peter must know her. He engineers "accidental" meetings, learns about her life, and becomes convinced their fates are intertwined. The line between his artistic admiration, his growing love for the real woman, and his strange relationship with the painted version begins to blur. Is he chasing a person, or the idea of one? The tension builds not from action, but from the slow, unsettling unraveling of Peter's grip on what's real and what's imagined.

Why You Should Read It

This book got under my skin. Kellermann doesn't write a ghost story in the traditional sense. Instead, he writes a story about the ghosts we create in our own minds. Peter isn't haunted by Ingeborg; he's haunted by his idea of Ingeborg, an idea given form first by paint and then by flesh. The real power here is the mood. The prose is simple but heavy with feeling, painting a picture of Berlin that feels both vivid and slightly dreamlike. You're right inside Peter's head, feeling his excitement, his desperation, and his creeping doubt. It’s a masterclass in showing how a single, strange event can completely rewire a person's life.

Final Verdict

Perfect for readers who love character-driven psychological drama with a touch of the uncanny. If you enjoyed the slow-burn unease of stories like Henry James's The Turn of the Screw or the obsessive character studies in Dostoevsky, but want something more accessible, this is your next read. It's also a fantastic pick for anyone interested in early 20th-century European literature that bridges the gap between romanticism and modernism. Fair warning: it's a patient, atmospheric novel. Don't go in expecting a fast plot. Go in ready to be absorbed into one man's beautifully troubling reality.