KAFKA Essential E-Book

Franz kafka

• Herausgeber: Lebooks Editora
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 118

Beschreibung

Franz Kafka is widely recognized as one of the great writers of the 20th century. Associated with expressionism and existentialism, his literary creations managed to encompass themes as complex as the condition of contemporary man, anguish, guilt, bureaucracy, frustration, and loneliness, among others. In this volume of Essential Kafka, the reader has access to two important works to better understand the talent and life of this extraordinary writer: "Letter to His Father" is an intimate and profound text that takes us into Kafka's very heart and many of the reasons and inspirations for his work. It is essential for anyone who wants to understand Kafka's work better and, in general, the life of the writer. The short story "A Hunger Artist" explores familiar themes in Kafka's poetic, such as death, isolation, art, asceticism, spiritual poverty, futility, or personal failure, all within a widespread corruption of human relationships. Nothing more Kafkaesque! These works offer a deep and thoughtful insight into Kafka's world and mind, inviting the reader to explore the darkest and most complex aspects of human existence.

Leseprobe

Franz Kafka

KAFKA ESSENCIAL

Original Title:

“Kafka essencial”

Contents

INTRODUCTION

LETTER TO FATHER

A HUNGER ARTIST

INTRODUCTION

Franz Kafka

1883-1924

Franz Kafka was a Czech author whose work, written in the German language, is considered one of the most influential in 20th-century literature.

Associated with expressionism and existentialism, his literary creations managed to encompass complex themes such as the condition of contemporary man, anguish, guilt, bureaucracy, frustration, and loneliness, among others. Additionally, his works blend the dreamlike, the irrational, and irony.

From his legacy, notable novels include "The Trial" (1925), "Diaries" (1910-1923), "The Castle" (1926), "Letter to His Father" (1919), "In the Penal Colony" (1914), and "The Metamorphosis" (1915), along with numerous short stories, letters, and personal writings. Kafka was a writer who received little recognition in life, but undoubtedly, he was a great influence on subsequent authors and also one of the drivers of the renewal of the European novel in the 20th century.

Brief Biography of Franz Kafka

Franz Kafka was born on July 3, 1883, in Prague, then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, into a Jewish family relative to the petty bourgeoisie.

From a very young age, Kafka desired to pursue writing; however, he had to deal with the difficult temperament of his father, with whom he maintained a tense relationship throughout his life.

He enrolled at Charles University (Prague) to study chemistry, which he did not complete because, influenced by his father, he preferred to pursue law studies. Soon after, he began taking classes in art and literature concurrently.

Around 1907, Franz Kafka began writing his first stories while working as a consultant in an insurance company, a job that allowed him to balance with his true vocation, writing.

Shortly thereafter, he formed a friendship with Max Brod, who became the great promoter of his work. In 1912, he met Felice Bauer, a woman with whom he had a romantic relationship, which ultimately failed.

In 1914, Kafka left his family home and became independent. During this stage of his life, works such as "The Trial" and "The Metamorphosis" emerged.

Later, the author was diagnosed with tuberculosis, a disease that led him to isolation in different sanatoriums. With the arrival of the 1920s, Kafka settled in a countryside house with his sister. There, he created works such as "A Hunger Artist" and the novel "The Castle."

In 1923, the writer met the Polish actress Dora Diamant, with whom he had a brief and intense relationship during his last year of life. On June 3, 1924, Kafka died in Kiering, Austria.

Kafka's work would not have gained recognition had it not been for Max Brod, who decided to disobey the writer's last wishes, which were to have his writings destroyed. Thanks to this act, one of the most influential literary works of the 20th century could come to light.

Undoubtedly, Franz Kafka was able to portray in his books the peculiarity of the reality of the time and the condition of contemporary man in it.

Characteristics of Kafka's Work

The work of Franz Kafka often represents the spirit of the 20th century. Therefore, it is subject to all kinds of interpretations, but it is safe to say that Kafka's work addresses the possible reflection of the author's life in his work, especially the difficult family situation of Franz Kafka with his father, his skepticism, and his religious nature. Kafka's literature is complex, almost akin to a labyrinth. These are some of the most relevant features of the so-called Kafkaesque universe:

Absurd theme: the term Kafkaesque has been used to describe anything that, despite its apparent normality, is definitively absurd. The stories told in his works may seem ordinary but later become surreal situations.

Strange characters: they are often individuals with unique characteristics. They tend to be apathetic, alienated characters who exhibit frustration.

Elaborate and precise language, usually written from the perspective of an omniscient narrator.

About "Letter to His Father" (1919)

"Letter to His Father" (in German "Brief an den Vater") is the commonly given name to the letter Franz Kafka wrote to his father, Hermann, in November 1919, criticizing him for his emotionally abusive and hypocritical behavior towards him. It was published posthumously (like most of Kafka's writings) in 1952. The text is of vital importance in understanding Kafka's relationship with his father, an elemental aspect in the author's biography. Kafka hoped that the letter would shorten the growing distance between him and his father, although it provides a sharp critique of both:

According to Max Brod, Kafka actually gave the letter to his mother to be delivered to his father. His mother never delivered the letter but returned it to her son, who never gave it to his father. The original letter consisted of about 103 handwritten pages. Kafka rewrote it several times (it took him two weeks to finish it) and even had it typed. The letter was full of pencil annotations because Kafka was going to keep it for a friend of his, who also never received it.

"Letter to His Father" is an intimate, profound, and heartbreaking text that takes us to the very heart of Kafka and many of the reasons and inspirations for his work. That is why it is an essential text for anyone who wants to understand Kafka's work more and, in general, the writer's life. Furthermore, "Letter to His Father

LETTER TO FATHER

Dearest Father,

You asked me the other day why I said that I was afraid of you. As usual, I didn’t know how to answer you, partly because of my fear of you, partly because there are too many particular reasons for that fear for me to be in any way able to put them all together in one talk. And if I’m trying to answer you here in writing it’ll thus be very incomplete, because even in writing fear and its consequences hinder me in my dealings with you and because the dimension of the subject far exceeds my memory and my understanding.

The matter has always seemed very simple to you, at least insofar as you’ve talked to me about it and, without any reserve, before many others. It seemed to you to be something along these lines: you’ve worked hard all your life, you’ve sacrificed everything for your children, above all for me and as a result, I’ve lived "up to the hilt", I had complete freedom to learn what I wanted to, I had no cause to worry about food and moreover no worries at all; you didn’t expect gratitude for that, you know all about "the gratitude of children" but you expected at least some kind of agreeable behavior, some sign of mutual understanding; instead of that I’ve always kept away from you, in my room, with books, with crazy friends, with extravagant ideas; I’ve never spoken openly with you, I didn’t come over to you in the temple, I never visited you in Franzensbad{1} nor did I ever have any other sense of family, I’ve never taken any interest in your business or your other affairs, I was a burden for you in the factory and then I left you, I’ve supported Ottla{2} in her obstinacy and while I never lift a finger for you (I don’t even bring you theatre tickets!), I do everything for my friends. If you summed up your opinion of me it turns out that you don’t reproach me for anything really indecent or evil (with the exception perhaps of my recent intention to marry) but of coldness, of distancing myself from you and of ingratitude. And you reproach me with that as if it were my fault, as if I could have arranged everything differently by going in a different direction, whereas you aren’t the least bit to blame, other than that you were perhaps too good to me.

I consider your usual version of the situation to be correct only to the extent that I too think that you’re entirely blameless for our alienation. But I’m equally as entirely blameless. If I could get you to acknowledge that, then — not that a new life would be possible, we’re both much too old for that but a kind of peace, not a cessation but a softening of your incessant reproaches.

Strangely enough you have some idea of what I want to say. For example, you recently told me: "I’ve always liked you, even if I haven’t outwardly been like other fathers tend to be, just because I can’t pretend like others can.” Now, Father, on the whole I’ve never doubted your kindness towards me but I consider that remark to be incorrect. You can’t pretend to be what you aren’t, that’s true but to say for that reason alone that other fathers are pretending is either mere arrogance that can’t be discussed any further, or else is - and in my opinion it really is - the veiled expression of the fact that something’s really wrong between us and that you’ve helped to cause it but without being guilty of it. If you really mean that, then we’re in agreement.

Of course, I’m not saying that I’ve become what I am only because of your influence. That would be a great exaggeration (although I’m even inclined to believe it). It’s very possible that even if I’d grown up completely free of your influence, I couldn’t have become a person after your own heart. I would probably have become a weak, anxious, hesitant, restless person, neither Robert Kafka{3} nor Karl Hermann{4} but quite different from what I really am and we could have gotten along splendidly. I would have been happy to have you as a friend, as a boss, as an uncle, as a grandfather, even (albeit more hesitantly) as a father-in-law. But just as a father you were too strong for me, especially since my brothers died young{5} and my sisters came long after me, so I had to bear the first blow all by myself and I was much too weak for that.

Compare the two of us: I’m, to put it very briefly, a Löwy{6} with a certain Kafka foundation, that, however, isn’t set in motion by the Kafka will to live, to do business and to conquer but by a lion-like incentive that works more secretly, more shyly, in a different direction and often stops altogether. You on the other hand are a real Kafka in strength, health, appetite, power of voice, gift of speech, self-satisfaction, worldly superiority, endurance, presence of mind, knowledge of human nature and a certain generosity, naturally also with all the faults and weaknesses belonging to those virtues that your temperament and sometimes your quick temper drive you to. Perhaps you aren’t quite Kafka in your general view of the world, as far as I can compare you with my uncles Philipp, Ludwig and Heinrich. It’s strange that I don’t see things quite clearly here either.

They were all more cheerful, fresher, more informal, more easy-going and less strict than you (in that, by the way, I’ve inherited a lot from you and managed the inheritance far too well, without however having the necessary counterweights in my nature as you have them). In that respect you’ve also gone through different periods, you were perhaps happier before your children, especially me, disappointed you and made your life difficult at home (when strangers came to visit, you were different) and have perhaps become happier again now that the grandchildren and the son-in-law are again giving you something of that warmth that your children, with the exception of Valli perhaps, couldn’t give you. In any case we were so different and in that difference so dangerous to each other that if one had wanted to calculate in advance how I, the slowly developing child and you, the developed man, would relate to each other, one could have supposed that you would simply run roughshod over me, that nothing of me would remain. That didn’t happen, the nature of living people can’t be so simply calculated, although perhaps something worse happened. But I must ask you not to forget that I’ve never in any way believed in any guilt on your part. You had the effect on me that you had to have — but you must stop thinking it a special malice on my part that I succumbed to it.

I was a timid child; nevertheless, I was certainly also stubborn, as children are; my mother certainly spoiled me but I can’t believe that I was particularly difficult to bring up, I can’t believe that a kind word, a calm taking me by the hand, a benevolent glance couldn’t have obtained everything from me that was wanted. You’re now basically a kind and soft person (what follows won’t contradict that, I’m only talking about the way you appeared to be that had an effect on the child I was) but not every child has the perseverance and the force to keep searching until he discovers benevolence. You can only treat a child the way that you’re made yourself, with strength, clamor and irascibility and in my case that also seemed to you to be very suitable because you wanted to raise me to be a strong, courageous boy.

Of course I can’t directly describe your way of educating me in the very first years but I can imagine it by drawing conclusions from later years and from your treatment of Felix{7}. In that context it’s important to keep in mind that you were younger then and therefore fresher, wilder, more original, even more carefree than you are today and that you were also completely tied up in your business — you could scarcely see me once a day and thereby made an impression on me that was all the more profound and that I can hardly ever become accustomed to.