KAFKA’S FEET OF CLAY

 

    KAFKA’S FEET OF CLAY

 

I

 

         Franz Kafka died in obscurity about one hundred years ago.  After three decades, the worn-out cliché, ‘he was one of the greatest authors of the 20^th century’, was applied to him. I am dubious. For some, Kafka is good reading.  His is the world of the bizarre, the phantasmagorical and the absurd: a reader can embrace it, admire it and enjoy Kafka’s black humour. All in all, though, Kafka was an eccentric and unworldly writer.[1] Some readers are repelled by him.

            My decision to express my views about him assumes that Kafka did not seek to confine his address to literary critics. If this had been his object, I would consider myself out of my depth: I am an ordinary, albeit widely read, middle-class person. This entitles me to form a view about books I study and their authors. The decision to go ahead is further motivated by my ability to read German (which means that I can read Kafka’s originals) and by my being – like him – a Diaspora Jew.

            My assessment is based on reviewing Kafka’s oeuvre[2] and his achievements. As I intend to cover publications of Kafka’s writings as well as leading discussions of his work, it appears best to refer to pieces cited by means of abbreviations. A list thereof is set out in an Appendix.

A brief explanation highlights the issues involved in this assessment. They stem from the fact that very few of Kafka’s writings were published during his lifetime. Fortunately, he kept ‘octavo notebooks’. He carried them with him but, from time to time, started a new notebook and, subsequently, reverted to an older – an unfinished one.  In these notebooks Kafka included diary entries[3] as well as  aphorisms and drafts of literary works. These notebooks came either into the hands of Max Brod – his literary executor – or were acquired directly by publishers.  The diaries and all other posthumous publications are generally arranged chronologically.[4]

This oeuvre  is Kafka’s   contribution to the understanding of his age and of mankind. Prior to turning to an analysis thereof, it is appropriate to provide some biographical details, a consideration of Kafka’s Jewish heritage and a description of his period, which comprises the first decades of the 20^th century.

 

II

            Franz Kafka was born in 1883 to secular Jewish parents. His city of birth – Prague[5] – was the capital of the Province of Bohemia, a domain of the Austro-Hungarian (Habsburg) Empire.  Prague was a major city, next only to Vienna and Budapest. Kafka’s father, Hermann, migrated to this city from his birthplace in rural Bohemia,[6] where the dominant language was Czech.  He built up a successful business, which enabled him to give Franz a good education.

            By moving to Prague, Hermann and his family became part of a twofold minority group.  Czech was the language spoken by the population. Government employees and the gentry spoken German, which was the official language of the Habsburg empire. Mass migration from rural Bohemia to the capital led to the Czech speaking residents becoming the majority.  Jews in Prague belonged to the German speaking group but were not accepted as equals by the other German residents of Prague. The difficulty of moving into this type of class and being accepted by it is described in Arthur Schnitzler’s Der Weg in die Freie[7] and in Lion Feuchtwanger’s Judsüβ.[8] Franz Kafka was, thus, born into a Jewish cultural ghetto circle. Although the Kafka family was not physically affected by antisemitic outbursts that took place in Bohemia during the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries, Franz was keenly aware of his status.[9]

German was the language of instruction in the schools Franz Kafka attended and at the university from which he graduated.[10] At home, the spoken tongue was a German dialect (spoken mainly in rural Bohemia), known as Mauscheldeutsch, which included words rooted in Yiddish.

An asset of the Kafka’s education was his acquiring knowledge of Greek and Latin. In addition, he studied French as a second language. He also acquired a command of Italian and a reading knowledge of English. His knowledge of the German slang spoken at home enabled him to comprehend Yiddish.[11]

Kafka’s comments on his childhood are negative. An entry in his diary, of 26 December 1911, reads: “It is unpleasant to listen to Father talk with incessant insinuations about the good fortune of people today and especially of his children, [and] about the sufferings he had to entertain in his youth” [K-DB, p. 154]. Franz adds that his not having had to go through such sufferings “by no means lead to the conclusion that I have been happier than [father]” [id].

Max Brod confirms Kafka’s complex relationship with his father. He tells us that: “very early in life [Kafka] felt [that] his father’s character was something foreign to his own … [E]ven as he was growing older,[12] he still wished above all for his father’s approval…” [K-MBB, p. 30].  Kafka appears to have loved his mother,[13] although she was active in Hermann’s firm and spent most of her time away from home. Franz was brought up by Czech speaking governesses. It is due to them that Kafka became conversant in this language.[14] Further, from time to time he attended cultural events conducted in Czech.[15]            

Kafka did not feel thankful for the fine education he was granted. He asserts that his education “had done [him] great harm in some ways.”[16] He avers: “Parents who expect gratitude from their children … are like usurers who gladly risk their capital if only they receive interest.”[17] Despite this adverse stand, Kafka never freed himself from his parents’ influence and failed to attain independence. In a diary entry of 16 October 1916, he observes: “Father from the one side, mother from the other, have inevitably almost broken my spirit … They have cheated me …” [K-DE, p. 372].  Three years later, in his famous Letter to Father,[18] (written when Kafka was 36 years old) he seeks to blame his father for his own misfortune. The tone of this lengthy letter is reminiscent of Oscar Wilde’s complaining tenor in De Profundis.

Records about Kafka’s life during his early years of study are scanty. He made some early attempts at writing.[19] Whilst he had no interest in music[20], he studied painting. Although he never attained fame in this field,[21] some of his art works have been preserved and published.[22]   Throughout his life as writer he continued to draw[23] and, from time to time, supplemented letters or diary entries with sketches.[24] In a letter to his fiancé Felice, of 10-12 February, 1913, which included some sketches, he explains: “I was once a great draftsman … but then I started to take academic drawing lessons with a bad woman painter and ruined my talent” [K-LF, at p. 389]. 

Kafka appears to have had an active life during his years of study. He took part in meetings of his circle, read out stories or extracts of works written by him and, in general, went to exhibitions and cultural lectures delivered in Prague.[25] He also attended some meetings of Czech circles and might have met Yaroslav Hašek, author of The Brave [Good]  Soldier Ŝvejk {Schweik} [K-RB, p. 140].

            In 1906, Kafka obtained a Doctorate of Law.  His served his year of apprenticeship at a law firm but his employment was with insurance companies. Due to the long hours of work (which did not leave him enough time for writing),[26] he resigned from his first post, at an Italian based company, and accepted employment at the Accidents Insurance Company run by the government [“AUVA”]. His task was to examine and deal with applications of accident victims.[27]

 Kafka remained in the employ of this company for the rest of his working life. He was one of the only two Jewish employees. Whilst he did not like his occupation, he distinguished himself and was promoted.  He undertook several business trips on AUVA’s behalf.

 Kafka was concerned over the prevailing inadequate safety measures and took the side of the oppressed workforce. In his reports to the management, he advocated the introduction of methods aiming to improve the standard of care in industrial establishments.[28]  Due to failing health, he was granted several periods of medical leave and eventually was pensioned early.

Kafka had an active life during his years of service. Max Brod mentions an early aviation demonstration attended by Kafka and himself. It was described by Kafka in an article entitled “The Aeroplanes at Brescia”, published in a local periodical on 28 September, 1908 [K-MBB, p. 62, 104].[29]  During vacations Kafka travelled – usually in the company of Max Brod – to Austria, Germany, the north of Italy and to Paris. His veneration of Goethe led to his staying for a few weeks in Weimar [K-DE, pp. 466-488; F-DG, pp. 499-522].[30] His Travelling Diaries [K-DE, pp. 425 et seq.; K-DG, pp. 454 et seq.] are perceptive and lively. He also spent time in natural health facilities, became a vegetarian and developed distrust in medicine and physicians [diary entry of 2 November, 1914: K-DEB, p. 333].

Of particular interest is his involvement with Yiddish theatre. Kafka befriended one of the actors, Löwy, and, despite his father’s caustic remarks, supported the cause.[31] He studied Yiddish for a few months[32] but eventually discontinued at the beginning of 1912. Notably, on 18 February, 1911, he gave a talk on this language to a meeting of Jews in Prague. Later on, in a diary entry of 20 October, 1911 [K-DE, at p. 81], he refers to a session in which Löwy read out Yiddish stories of Shalom Aleichem and J.L. Peretz and a poem by Bialik, translated from Hebrew to Yiddish. All the same, Kafka treated Yiddish (and East European Jewry) as alien. He was unimpressed with the quality of Yiddish plays,[33] remained critical of the performances of some actors and, shortly after Löwy’s departure from Prague, retreated into his own world [K-DG, pp. 177-8]

In 1911 Kafka was persuaded by his family to take part in an asbestos manufactory, named Prager Asbestoswerke & Co.[34] A diary entry of 7 November, 1911 (K-DE, p, 110) indicates that he regarded the enterprise as intrusive and showed little interest in it.[35] He felt no remorse when it failed and was closed down in 1917.

In his spare time, Kafka wrote incessantly, often until very late at night.[36] He regarded writing to be his main task in life. His output included lengthy drafts of chapters of his novels and short stories, diaries (spread over twelve notebooks), extra notebook entries,[37] aphorisms[38] and letters to sweethearts and friends.[39] About five hundred of them were addressed to his first fiancée, Felice Bauer.  A diary kept by him from about 1910 is extant. An earlier diary that he  kept[40] was destroyed by him together with many writings.  

Kafka had a harmonious relationship with his sisters but, as is clear from the passages cited, did not get on with his father, a self-made man, who – according to Franz – was a hard and domineering person. It is certain that Hermann was a self-assured and successful businessman, who could be impatient with and hard on employees. He would have liked Franz, his only surviving son, to take over the enterprise. There is little evidence supporting Kafka’s negative assessment of his father’s personality.

Franz Kafka’s biographers relate that he was a tall, good looking and presentable man. The image gleaned from his writings – that of an introverted and lonesome man – differs from what is related by his acquaintances. They considered him a pleasant individual and a good mixer. Kafka was an active participant in small gathering[41] but was overcome by shyness and reticence when in public gatherings. An entry in his notebooks indicates that he did not seek the attention associated with winning.[42] He felt compassion for those overtaken thereby.

Kafka’s inner circle comprised well known German speaking Jewish intellectuals, such as the philosopher Hugo Bergmann,[43] the historian Oskar Pollak, the author Franz Werfel[44] the musician Oscar Baum, the journalist Friedrich Welch and Kafka’s close friend and biographer Max Brod. Quite regularly, Kafka read out some of his writings to these friends and commented on their efforts.[45]

 Kafka liked the company of women.[46] A diary entry of 2 June, 1916, reads: “What a muddle I’ve been in with girls, in spite of all my headaches, insomnia, grey hair, despair. Let me count them: there have been at least six since the summer” [K-DE, p. 362].   One of his early stories,[47] suggests that he might even have contemplated accosting attractive girls bypassing him, except that, in many such cases, was overcome by shyness and diffidence. His Travel Diaries (published with his Diaries) confirm that he had an eye[48] for women although he was keenly aware of their imperfections and his description of them – in his letters and writings – is usually unflattering.[49] He frequented brothels,[50] had numerous affairs but, at the same time, had reservations about lasting relationships and settling down.[51]

Whilst he bemoans a bachelor’s loneliness and isolation, he tells us, in one of his first published works: “That’s how it will be, except that in reality both today and later on, he [the bachelor] remains independent in his own body and head…”.[52] This passage, as well as Kafka’s conduct over the years, confirms that he had difficulties in committing himself to wedlock, in which a wife would become part of his inner life and aspirations.[53]

Kafka was engaged four times. In 1912 he met Felice Bauer, a relative of Max Brod [diary entry of 20 August 1912, K-DE, p. 207]. Despite his having found her plain, he dated her.[54] A day was set for the formal engagement ceremony, to take place in Berlin.[55] In a diary entry of 8 March 1914, he observes: “I couldn’t marry then; everything in me revolted against it, much as I always loved F.[56] It was chiefly concern over my literary work that prevented me, for I thought marriage would jeopardise it” [K-DE, p. 262; K-DEB, pp. 264-5]. Eventually, after acrimonious outbursts [diary entry of 23 July 1914: K-DE, p. 239; K-DG, pp. 309-310], she decided not to go ahead.[57]

Even thereafter, Kafka continued to write to her. They were reengaged[58] but, in 1917, when Kafka was diagnosed as having succumbed to tuberculosis, their ways parted.[59] Kafka’s letters suggest that, basically, he wanted to settle down and build up a family.[60] Felice was keen although it is gleaned, from Kafka’s numerous letters to her, that she was not deeply in love with him. Eventually, she married an investment banker. When she faced financial reverses after having moved to the United States, she sold Kafka’s letters to a publishing house.

In 1919 Kafka ignored his parents’ disapproval, based on the lower status of the intended bride’s family, and proposed to marry Julie Whoryzcek, the daughter of a Jewish shoemaker. Julie was a vivacious and attractive woman. She had been engaged previously but her fiancé was killed in WWI. She had met Kafka in Zürau and the two saw each other regularly.  Kafka cancelled the engagement after the date for a wedding had already been fixed.[61] Thereafter, she continued to live with him for a while in Prague; but the relationship came to its end when, in 1920, he met Milena Jesenskā.

Milena was the wife of one of Kafka’s acquaintances. Initially, she proposed to translate one of his stories to Czech; before long, their relationship developed into an affair.  Kafka’s closeness to her becomes clear from the voluminous letters[62] he wrote her and from his having given her – as parting gift when she decided to discontinue the relationship – his notebooks.[63] She explained the breach by advising that she had not got over her love for her estranged husband.[64]

Kafka’s last association was with Dora Diamant, the daughter of a Polish Rabbi. The two met in 1923 in  Hebrew classes Kafka attended at the time.  Max Brod writes: “Franz came back from his summer holidays [having met Dora] full of high courage. His decision [was] to cut all ties [with his employers], get to Berlin, and live with Dora” [K-MBB, p. 197]. It would appear that these were the happiest days of Kafka’s life. They stayed together for a while in  Berlin but, due to the deterioration in his health, he had to move to a sanatorium.[65] Dora looked after him during the final days of his illness and wrote an obituary. Marriage was ruled out by Kafka’s health and also because Dora’s father opposed the match.[66] 

Franz Kafka remained in the service of AUVA until 1922. However, he took an extended period of leave in 1917, following two haemorrhages,[67]  and spent most of it in Zürau, where one of his sisters – Ottla – manged a farm.[68]  He liked the place and felt at home [K-LF, p. 137]. Whilst there, he composed aphorisms.  He also set out his object in life: “I am not actually striving to be a good human being … but rather quite the opposite, [my aim is] to survey the whole human and animal community, to recognise their fundamental predilections, desires, moral ideals, to trace them back to simple rules and to adapt myself to them … so that I might carry out the vulgarities residing in me openly, before the eyes of all” [K-DEB, p. 446].  Readers of Kafka’s works have to judge whether or not he achieved this object.

Felice Bauer and Max Brod visited him during his months in Zürau. Kafka’s health kept deteriorating even after his days in Zürau. In a diary entry of 16 January, 1922 he tells us that he “suffered something very like a [nervous] breakdown” [K-DE, p. 398].

At the end of WWI, the Habsburg Empire collapsed and Bohemia became part of Czechoslovakia. Thereupon, Czech replaced German as the official language. As from then, it was used by all government departments and bodies. As Kafka was proficient in the tongue, his services became of major importance. Still, his health kept declining and in 1922 he finally opted for full retirement.  All the same, he made a last effort to recuperate. In the company of a physician, he spent a few weeks in Spindlermüle, in the Czech Mountains. During his stay there he commenced the writing of his last – unfinished – novel: Das Schloss [The Castle].  

Kafka was badly affected by the inflation of that period. Its severity is vividly described by Erich Maria Remarque in The Black Obelisk and Der Weg Zurück [The Way Back]. Kafka’s pension, which was not index tied, did not provide adequate means for livelihood. He augmented his income with some royalties but, even so, needed the support of friends and parents.

In 1924 Kafka died of tuberculosis, which spread into his larynx and made the taking of food extremely difficult. He was but 41 years old and had not attained any recognition or fame. His most popular publication was The Metamorphosis. His last letter was written to his father on 2 June, 1924 [K-TT, p. 577]. He died on the very next day [id.]

            Kafka’s name was saved from obscurity by the efforts of Max Brod,[69]  whom Kafka constituted his executor. Although Kafka did not leave a formal testament, Brod found a note in which Kafka instructed him to burn his unpublished writings. Kafka had made the same request in an earlier encounter whereupon Brod told him that, if this were his wish, he ought to appoint someone else as executor. In tandem with this sentiment, Brod  published Kafka’s three novels within three years of his friend’s demise. He also retained Kafka’s other papers and even took them with him when he escaped in 1939 to Palestine. Kafka’s fame and renown is due to Brod’s devotion. Two Nobel Laureates – Thomas Mann and Hermann Hesse – assisted by lauding Kafka’s writings. The breakthrough came with the publication in 1931 of The Great Wall of China by the Gustav Kiepenheuer Verlag in Berlin. It was reprinted in 1948, that is, after the end of WWII.  

            As already noted, Kafka’s writings ought to be divided into those published during his lifetime and those that saw light posthumously. During his life Kafka did not publish any novel, although the draft of Der Proceβ was practically complete.  

Years earlier, Max Brod had encouraged his friend to publish a collection of short stories entitled Meditation. This appeared in 1913. In the same year, Kafka published two works. The first is The Judgment [Verdict: Das Urteil], which he had written during the previous year during a single session that took place shortly after he had met Felice Bauer [diary entry of 23 September, 1912, K-DE, p. 212; and see K-DE, pp. 214-5, explaining the tome]; the second was The Stoker,[70] re-published posthumously as the first chapter of his Amerika.

The three years following 1912 were a highlight in Kafka’s literary life. The novella, The Metamorphosis [Die Verwandlung] was written during it and saw light in 1915[71]. In the Penal Colony (discussed subsequently) was published in 1919 but was written on 5 October 1914; and Kafka read it to friends years before it saw light [K-TT, pp 292, 295].

In December 1919, Kafka published another collection of short stories, entitled A Country Doctor. It included Vor dem Gesetz (Before the Law), later incorporated in chapter 9 of The Trial (Der Prozeβ). By then, Kafka was a sick man. His last publication, A Hunger Artist, including Josephine, die Sängerin oder Das Volk der Mäuse, appeared in 1924, shortly after  his death, although he had corrected the proofs. The royalties were needed to settle the bills of the sanatorium in which he stayed at that time: Kierling on the outskirts of Vienna.

            Kafka’s three novels, Amerika, The Trial [Der Proceβ] and The Castle [Das Schloss], as well as his Letter to Father, collections of his letters, diaries,  short stories and aphorisms were published over and over again during the next three decades.   Wilma and Edwin Muir’s translations into English are outstanding and made Kafka’s work available to monolingual readers in North America and the United Kingdom.  In due course Kafka became a well established and highly regarded writer. His works have been translated into many languages.[72]

            Kafka was not a steady performer. Frequently, he started work on an opus, turned to another, returned to the first after a long break and left the work in the form of an incomplete draft. Beschreibung eines Kampfes [K-GW, pp. 215 et. seq., translated as Description of a Struggle: K-EST, pp. 253 e. seq.] is a case in point. Kafka started work on it in 1904 and came back to it from time to time until 1909. He then abandoned it and gave the rough draft to Max Brod. Another example is the novel Amerika. Kafka commenced work on it in 1911[73] but turned to other works after completing chapter 8 in 1914.

            As already mentioned, Kafka regarded writing to be his real vocation. He was a perfectionist. Works that appeared during his lifetime are meticulously fine-tuned and copy edited. Although the text may be subject to varying interpretations, it is clear and can be read in one breath.  This is not so in the case of some of the works published posthumously.[74]     

             

III

         Antisemitism was prevalent all over 19^th century Europe. Prague was no exception. An eruption of nationalism of Czech residents in 1894, which, ostensibly, was an uprising against the German population (and Habsburg supremacy), turned  into a pogrom.[75] On a subsequent occasion, one of Kafka’s friends, Oskar Baum, was hit by a stone and blinded. A few years later, when Hermann Kafka’s Czech employees resigned en masse, Franz talked them into resuming their posts.[76] Kafka was keenly aware of being a member of a minority. Whether his status affected his writing is disputed.  The question is discussed in detail by Ritchie Robertson [K-BR, cap. 1] and Reiner Stach [K-RSFJ, pp. 166 et seq.].[77]  

            Franz Kafka’s Jewish home was secular. In his letter to father [composed in November 1919: K-TT, p. 437; K-GW, pp. 459 et seq.], he complains that he was not given a traditional Jewish upbringing. He points out that his father went to the Synagogue just about four times a year but even on these occasions remained aloof. He adds that the traditional Passover Feast – the Seder – was perfunctory and, in effect, devoid of meaning; and that his Bar Mitzva – which encompassed the reading out in the Synagogue of a Parasha [applicable passage of the Old Testament] – involved the learning of the text by heart. He feared this public performance; but it  did not bring him close to the source [K-GW, pp. 484-486].

            In an entry of 11 October 1911, Kafka tells us that he felt bewildered when attending Synagogue on Yom Kippur [the Day of Atonement] and explains that there was a “[s]uppressed murmur of the stock exchange” [K-DE, p. 59]. He adds that he “was stirred more deeply by Judaism” in an Eastern European synagogue [id]. [78]

            T      he contrast between secular Jews in Prague and East European Jewry is echoed in Kafka’s description of two ceremonies. On 24 December 1911, his nephew was circumcised in a secular ceremony at the parents’ home. Kafka tells us that “those present … spent the time in dreams or boredom with a complete lack of understanding of the [moule’s assistant] prayer”. On the very next day he describes the ‘Kabbalistic’ nature of circumcision in Russia [K-DE, pp, 147, 151]. The latter, he explains, leaves a deep impression; the former is ritualistic. Kafka was also impressed with the ritual bath – the Mikveh – of East European Jews [diary entry of 27 October, 1911 [K-ED, p. 91; and see K-DEB, p. 103 (re purifying by water)].

            Kafka showed interest in Judaism as of 1911 and, as from July 1912,  kept reading the bible from time to time [K-TT, p. 163]. Apart from attending the Yiddish theatre and his long-term friendship with the actor L wy, he read about Hassidic culture and its history.[79] He also became familiar with the studying in Yeshivas [K-DEB, pp. 183-4][80] and started to learn Hebrew.[81] Of particular interest is his analysis of the enlightenment (the ‘Haskalah’). He tells us that the ‘Maskilim’ wish to promote Hebrew but that, to “spread its ideas the Haskalah must use Yiddish …, much as its hates the latter…” [K-DE, p. 174].

            All in all, though, Kafka’s interest vanished. On 6 January, 1912 [K-ED, p. 167] he states: “My receptivity to the Jewishness in these [Yiddish] plays deserts me because they are too monotonous and degenerate into wailing that prides itself on isolated, violent outbursts. When I saw the first plays it was possible for me to think that I had come upon a Judaism on which the beginning of my own rested, a Judaism that was developing in my direction and so would enlighten and carry me farther along in my clumsy Judaism; instead it moves farther away from me the more I hear of it.”

            Two years later, on 8 January, 1914, he summarises his conclusion about Judaism as a whole: “What have I in common with Jews? I have hardly anything in common with myself and should stand very quietly in a corner, content that I can breathe” [K-DE, p. 252].[82] The emerging picture is clear: a highly introverted man,[83] who does not find salvation in his people’s culture and religion. It is, thus, not surprising that he declined to become an editorial member of Martin Buber’s periodical (Der Jude).[84]

            This conclusion is not shattered by Kafka’s aphorisms. In one of his notebooks he states: “Man cannot live without a permanent trust in something indestructible in himself, though both the indestructible element and the trust may remain permanently hidden from him. One of the ways in which this hiddenness can express itself is through faith in a personal god” [K-NB, p. 29]. In the very same notebook, he avers: “The messiah will come only when he is no longer necessary, he will come only one day after his arrival, he will not come on the last day, but on the last day of all” [ibid., p. 28].[85] The picture that emerges is that of a religiously inclined person who is not committed to a given faith. In essence, Kafka was a highly spiritual man but religiously undecided.[86] An entry in his diary, of 2 November, 1914 [K-DEB, p. 333], indicates that he doubted miracles.

            This was, actually, the position of secular Central European Diaspora Jews, who had little in common with the traditionally inclined Jewry of Eastern Europe. Kafka’s veneration of gentile authors such as Goethe and Dostoevsky suggests that he put emphasis on orientation rather than or religion.

Kafka’s appreciated how the Enlightenment [Haskalah] led to Zionism [K-DEB, p. 188] but his approach to the movement  was distant. As early as 1902 he made negative comments about it to his friend, Hugo Bergmann, who was an ardent Zionist and, actually, migrated to Palestine [K-TT, p. 48; K-DEB, p. 229].[87] From time to time, Kafka attended functions dealing with Zionism.[88] But he was not attracted to it. In a letter to a friend of 11 June, 1914, he expresses his aversion of it [K-TT, p. 279]. When Bergmann promoted Zionism in his Bar-Kochba circle, Kafka did not join. In a letter to Felice, of 12 September, 1916 he writes: “I am not a Zionist” [K-LE, p. 501].  Kafka remained largely unaware of the initiatives taken by Theodor Herzl.[89] His orientation is neatly summarised by Ritchie Roberson: “[Kafka] always remained on the sideline of the movement and shunned practical involvement with it, however great his theoretical sympathy became” [K-RB, p. 143].[90]

            Kafka studied Hebrew when Pua Ben Tovim came to Prague for a period of about two years for advanced  studies. Kafka acquired considerable proficiency in the language[91] and thought of migrating to Palestine.  In 1923, he arranged to accompany Bergmann’s wife on her way back home to Jerusalem; but, at the last moment, he pulled out.[92] As Kafka was, at that time, a very sick man, his decision is understandable.

            Kafka and other Jews in Prague were fortunate to obtain accomplished tuition in Hebrew. Whilst Hebrew became a literary (secular) language in the 19^th century, its revival as a spoken means of communication involved a slow process.

The first school employing Hebrew as a teaching language was opened in Rishon LeZion in 1896; but Hebrew was not yet widely spoken. During the periods of the First and Second Ascents [Aliyot, viz. streams of migrants], many Jewish migrants continued to use their mother tongues. It was only after General Allenby conquered Palestine in 1917, that the country experienced massive migration – the Third Ascent – from Eastern Europe. The revival of Hebrew as a modern spoken language was promoted by Ben-Yehuda’s reforms, mainly after 1922. By then, Britain obtained its mandate over Palestine and, in due course, Hebrew became one of the recognised languages of the country.

            Pua Ben Tovim came from one of the Hebrew-speaking homes of Palestine. During her lifetime Hebrew became the common language of the Jewish Yishuv {Settlement} in Palestine. Modern Hebrew literature developed mainly after the foundation of Israel in 1948.[93]

To sum up, it would be unrealistic to regard Kafka a committed Zionist or an ardent Jew.

IV

The first two decades of the 20^th century experienced major developments.[94] In 1900, Max Planck formulated the quantum theory and five years later Albert Einstein came up with the Theory of Special Relativity. Sigmund Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams appeared at the turn of the century. In 1901, Marconi set up the first radio communication between the United States and Europe. Commercially, his radio became available in the course of that decade.

Whilst Alexander Bell patented the telephone in 1876, the network was established only by the beginning of the 20^th century. So did the cinema, although the first ‘talking’ film – that is, a film incorporating synchronised soundtracks and dialogue – appeared in 1927. The silent film was, however, commonplace. Charlie Chaplin was scouted for the film industry in the United States in 1919. By then he had become well known. Early Sherlock Holmes films were in circulation from the start of the 20^th century.

An important development of the period was the replacement of older propelling means by electricity. Whist the “war of the currents” was won by Nicola Tesla and Westinghouse in 1893, the spread of the system was gradual. Similarly, in 1879, Thomas Edison patented the light bulb but its spread to everyday use was slow.  Electrical light was available in most urban settlements (including Prague) by the turn of the century; but it had not yet been available in rural communities.

The surge of motorcars – invented towards the end of the 19^th century but popularised at the beginning of the 20^th – was yet another significant advance. The Ford Motor Company was founded in 1903 and its famous model T Car came onto the market in 1908. The trams in Prague were electrically propelled as from 1891. By the turn of the century, they were fully operative.  Other innovations included the gramophone and the rise of aviation. The Wright Brothers’ first flight took place in 1903.

There were also political developments. The English Labour Party was founded in 1900. In Europe, Germany maintained its military and political superiority, notwithstanding Bismarck’s death in 1898.  The first Russian Revolution, including ‘Red Sunday’ in St. Petersburg, took place in 1905. So did the sad ‘Battleship Potemkin’ saga, involving a sailors’ mutiny. In contrast to the weakening of Czarist Russia, the Habsburg Empire remained in force. Actually, in 1908, it annexed Bosnia and Herzegovina. All the same, sentiments for social reform were on the increase.

Bohemia – still part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire – underwent changes. In 1897, the Badeni Language Decrees sought to give Czech the status of an ‘internal official language’. Opposition from the German minority prevented implementation. Eventually, a watered-down version thereof was adopted.   The Young Czech Movement was reorganised by Karel Kramāf. Czech nationalism was on the rise.

Literature, too, was developing rapidly. For instance, H.G. Wells published The Time Machine in 1985. Oscar Wilde and Ibsen died shortly after the turn of the century. Romain Roland, an ardent pacifist, started publishing in 1902. Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim appeared in 1900 and James Joyce’s Dubliners saw light in 1904. Chekhov, Gorky, Thomas Mann, Pirandello, Rilke, George Barnard Shaw and Zola had established themselves.  

Some leading plays were performed in Prague. Kafka often attended them.[95] His favourites, Fyodor Dostoyevsky and Wolfgang von Göthe, belonged to previous centuries; but they had become household names and were celebrated.

These early decades of the 20^th century were also significant for the growth of Zionism. Two affairs turned Jews to it. The first was the shameful Dreyfus Affair, which involved the conviction of a Jewish senior French military officer on drummed up espionage charges. The absurdity thereof was pointed out in Émile Zola’s famous J’Accuse in 1989. Although the conviction was later on quashed and Dreyfus was reinstated, the ensuing message was clear. Jews were aliens. Many felt the need to find a home of their own. Two assimilated German speaking Jews – Theodor Herzl and Max Nordau – became leaders of the movement.

The second affair was the Kishinev slaughter of 1903. This pogrom and the policy of Czarist Russia, as well as the rise of antisemitism in Central Europe, convinced many Jews of the need to find a new solution.  The first Zionist Congress took place in Basel in 1897 and  the movement gained strength at the beginning of the 20^th century. Notably, Tel Aviv – an important centre of Jews in Palestine –  was founded in 1909.

The evolutionary processes of the turn of the 20^th century and the fermenting sociological drives were halted by the outbreak of the First World War [“WWI”]. The event triggering it off was the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand – the successor to the Habsburg throne – on 28 June, 1914 in Sarajevo by a Serbian fanatic.[96] Austria declared war on Serbia one month later.[97] The fateful WWI, which engulfed many countries in both the Eastern and the Western world, came to an end after the United States stepped in on the side of the Allies in 1917.  The fighting – largely carried out in the trenches – ended with the Armistice of 11 November, 1918. The Treaty of Versailles, signed on 28 July, 1919, imposed heavy sanctions on Germany.

One of the consequences of WWI was the collapse of empires. The Ottoman Empire lost a number of Balkan countries and, under the takeover by the Young Turks, became a republic. In parts of the Middle East, including Palestine (which used to be part of the Ottoman Empire), the British rose to power. The Balfour Declaration made in 1917 – prior to General Allenby’s conquest – laid the foundation for a Jewish home in the country. The Austro- Hungarian (Habsburg) Empire collapsed and was replaced by a number of independent countries. Austria was transformed into a small landlocked state, with its government in Vienna. The Czarist regime in  Russia was superseded by the Bolsheviks.

Bohemia, which was no longer a province of the once mighty empire, became part of the new state of Czechoslovakia. Prague continued to be the see of the government. German, though, ceased to be the official language. Czech replaced it.     

WWI had far-reaching economic consequences. Hyperinflation commenced shortly after the surviving soldiers returned home from the battle fronts. Many found resettlement difficult. The period is vividly described by Erich Maria Remarque [ante]. The war had led to the destruction of agriculture. Food became scarce and expensive. Black markets thrived all over Europe.

How far did these developments and tribulations affect Kafka? In this regard, it is important to draw a distinction between the man and his writings.

On the personal level, Kafka was affected  by this period. As from his days as a teenager, he was keenly aware of leading cultural and sociological developments. He attended lectures (including one by Albert Einstein on 24 May, 1911 [K-TT, p. 125]), read widely and, in general, had sympathy for the fermenting spirit  of the period. By way of illustration, he took part in launching the asbestos factory already mentioned. In February 1913, he obtained information about parlography – a precursor to tape recorders and dictating machines – and acquired prospectuses concerning them [K-TT, p. 202].

  Kafka was familiar with the views expressed by Edison about the acquisition of American know-how in Bohemia in consequence of the return home by Czech migrants [K-DEB, p. 124]. But he took the view that their influence involved a slow process. On 25 December, 1911 [K-DE p. 148] he tells us that “many benefits of literature, the stirring of minds, the doctrine of national consciousness, [are] often unrealised in public life.” 

All in all, Kafka’s approach to the innovations of the period is ambivalent. On 10 December, 1913, he tells us that “[d]iscoveries have imposed themselves on people” [K-DEB, p. 319]. All  the same, he used them. For instance, on 17 February, 1910, he watched together with Max Brod The White Slave, one of the early full length films [K-TT, p. 118]. Similarly, he made full use of telephones installed by his employers. But he knew that the spread of the new instrument was slow. For instance, in the first chapter of The Castle, K is surprised to discover that a telephone had already been installed in an inn of a village. Similarly, his Country Doctor uses a cart pulled by horses and not an automobile.

Was Kafka’s life-flow interrupted, or affected, by the outbreak of WWI? The Austrian ultimatum to Serbia was delivered on 23 July, 1914. Most observers saw the writing on the wall. Kafka, in contrast, was so absorbed in his involvement with Felice that he did not refer in his diary to the then impending doom. But he was affected by the enlistment in the army of his two brothers in law.

On 31 July, 1914 he noted the general mobilisation and added: “I am little affected by all the misery and am firmer in my resolve [to remain alone] than ever. I shall have to spend my afternoons in the [asbestos] factory; I won’t live at [my parents’] home, for [sister] Eli and the two children are moving in with us. But I will write in spite of everything, absolutely; it is my struggle for self-preservation” [K-DE, p. 300].

In August 1914, Kafka left his parents’ home and moved to a place of his own [K-TT, p. 303]. As his employers considered his services vital, he was not enlisted. In his spare time, he attended patriotic propaganda functions. On 6 August, 1914, he wrote: “These parades are one of the most disgusting accompaniments of the war” [K-ED, p. 302]. Yet, he bemoaned the reverses of the Habsburg army [K-TT, p. 291; K-DEB, p. 286].

In 1915 some of Kafka’s colleagues, both at the insurance company and at the factory, joined the army. Kafka’s workload was affected thereby [K-DEB, p. 284]. He was aware of the stream of Jewish refugees escaping from Galicia and helped to accommodate them.  At about the same time he had to decide whether or not to acquire war bonds. In this context, he sensed the effect of the war. He tells us: “I felt myself directly involved in the war … But gradually my excitement underwent a transformation, my thought turning to writings” [diary entry of 5 November, 1915, K-DE, p. 351].[98]

A four months’ break in Kafka’s diary suggests that he was fully occupied with his own problems and with writing. The ongoing war did not disrupt his daily activities. Then, on 11 May, 1916, he felt the need to join the army [K-DE, at p. 361; K-TT, p. 326].  However, his application to enlist was declined due to his deteriorating health. Later on, at about July 1917, his sputum turned red. On 11 August, he had his first haemorrhage. 

The most significant political development of the time was Massaryk’s Announcement, of 27 November 1918, that Bohemia had become part of the newly founded Czech Republic, which was constituted part of Yugoslavia. Antisemitic outbreaks took place a few days later [K-TT, p. 422]. Kafka was not affected. A subsequent antisemitic outburst in Munich [ibid., at p. 448] is discussed by him in two letters of May 1920, written whilst recuperating in Meran. In the first, he makes sarcastic comments about an editorial in a local newspaper, referring to “The Elders of Zion,” and described the passages involved as “at once stupid and frightening” [K-LFR, p. 236].

 In his second letter (to Max Brod), he wrote: “the Jews are not spoiling Germany’s future, but it is possible to conceive of them as having spoiled Germany’s present. From early on they have forced upon Germany things that she might have arrived at slowly and in her own way, but which she was opposed to because they stemmed from strangers. What a terribly barren preoccupation anti-Semitism is…” [id].

Obviously, Kafka was aware of the wave of antisemitism.[99] His resistance, though, remained passive. He did not attend the Jewish National Congress, held in Prague at the beginning of the next year [K-TT, p. 425].

Kafka continued in the employ of AUVA. On 19 December, 1919, he was constituted a ‘Secretary’: a promotion entailing a rise in his salary [K-TT, p. 439]. On 1 March, 1920, he was issued a Czech passport, naming him “František Kafka”. His orientation, though, was not affected thereby. Whilst he took out a subscription of a periodical devoted to the promotion of the Czech language and culture, he continued to write solely in German.   

During this entire period Kafka did not make diary entries. Instead, he polished his Zürau Aphorisms and entered sayings in extra octavo notebooks. It will be recalled that this is also the period in which Kafka intensified his studies of Hebrew and befriended Dora Diament. Notwithstanding his deteriorating health, it was a happy period in his life. The octavo notebooks confirm that he was meandering about life after death. At the same time, he did not commit himself to any given religion.  This may have been his strength; or, perhaps, his weakness.

Did the technological and political developments affect his writings? His style – and a model one at that – remained unchanged. The mastery discernible in his late works can already be seen in “The Aeroplanes at Brescia”. The theme, too, has remained basically the same. Kafka deals with the individual’s plight at the hand of an entity or a group stronger than he. He also bemoans – years before George Orwell – the bureaucratic ‘red tape’ encountered by members of the public.

His orientation remained unaltered in yet a further respect. His writings continue to address one and the same group. It may be objected that Kafka’s wrote only for himself. This plea – encountered in the case of many writers and other artists – must, however, be taken with a pinch of salt. Undoubtedly, some individuals write solely because they wish to get ‘things’ off their chest. But once an author looks for a publisher, he (or she) manifests the wish to share the product with ‘others’.

In some cases, these ‘others’ are easy to define. By way of illustration, take the author of the Book of Deuteronomy. His words are directed at the Israelites. His object is to induce them to obey divine law. Similarly, when Greek playwrights composed their masterpieces, they sought the approval of the audience entitled to determine the winner. Equally, some modern writers selected their audience. Shakespeare sought to appeal to the patrons of the theatre. Dickens addressed the reading population (basically, the alphabetic middle-class) of London.

Who then was the group addressed by Kafka? The answer is transparent: he read out some of his works, or parts thereof, to members of his inner circle, to friends and to family members. In addition, his letters to publishers, such as Kurt Wolff, indicate that he wanted to see his works in print. He hoped that they would appeal to their German speaking, alphabetic, readers. The fact that his writings have been savoured by a much wider group of readers – attained world-wide appeal – is a bonus.

 

 

V

As already mentioned, very few works of Kafka were published during his lifetime. Purists seek to confine their reading to these. In their opinion, Max Brod’s posthumous publications involved a betrayal. The point is debatable but, as already noted, Brod felt entitled to publicise his late friend’s works. Furthermore, it will be recalled that Kafka gave his extant notebooks – comprising inter alia his diaries – to Milena as a parting gift. He knew full well that she was engaged in promoting literary works. Their very friendship commenced when she offered to translate The Stoker into Czech. He ought to have realised that he gave her the full possession of the items gifted. He did not swear her to secrecy.

Even if these arguments were rejected by the purists, they ought to consider Der Proceβ as part of Kafka’s completed works. All that Max Brod had to do in respect of this outstanding work was copy-editing or, in other words, due diligence.

For those who feel free to read all of Kafka’s writings, the oeuvre need be divided into three components: (i) the novels, (ii) shorter works, comprising novellas, short stories and tales and (iii) parables and epigrams. All of them bear Kafka’s ken mark: they are fantasmagoric and surreal. They are also imbued with the author’s black – perhaps even macabre – humour.

Two of Kafka’s novels remained incomplete. The first is Amerika, as the work was entitled when Brod facilitated its publication in 1927. Kafka called it Der Verschollene – The Disappearing Man. He started work on its second, extant, version on 26 September, 1912 – amidst his first literary outbreak –   and finished the first six chapters by that year’s end [K-RSEJ, p. 192-3; K-TT, p. 171, 178]. Later, he lost his enthusiasm for the novel.[100] On the 9 of March 1913, he told Felice in one of his letters that only the first part of the novel was good [K-LF, p. 218]. On 28 May, 1913, Max Brod obtained the manuscript of the chapters completed by then [K-TT, p. 223]. Still, as gleaned from Kafka’s diary, he continued to write fragments during 1914 [K-TT, pp. 273, 291] and on 6 July, 1916, [K-DE, p. 364]. The last available chapter, dealing with the Oklahoma Theatre, was written on 5 October, 1914.

During this period, Kafka might have been satisfied with the work [T-KK, p. 311]. Subsequently, doubts crept in.  In a diary entry of 8 August, 1917, he observed that “[t]he Stoker {viz. chap. 1 of Amerika} is a clear imitation of Dickens, the projected novel even more so” [K-DE, p. 388; K-DG, p. 411].[101] A few months later, after he had initially declined to give completed manuscripts of the work to Max Brod, he eventually delivered them [K-TT, p. 400, 406].

Amerika has been described as Kafka’s most readable novel. It is, at the same time, difficult to discern its message.  Further, whilst Dickens’ novels are reader friendly, Amerika is not.

The plot is simple.  Karl Rossman, a 16-year-old Czech boy, is sent by his parents to America after having been seduced by the family’s cook, who made herself pregnant by him. The parents’ object is to avoid the ensuing scandal and to obviate an action for alimony. Whilst proceeding to disembark in New York, Karl encounters the Stoker, who has been dismissed on drummed up charges. Karl decides to plead the Stoker’s case before the captain. In the latter’s room he meets his uncle, who had migrated from Prague a few years earlier and had risen to the rank of a senator.  The uncle recognises Karl and adopts him. Karl leaves the ship with his uncle, whilst the Stoker yields to his own inappropriate sentence. Later, the uncle banishes Karl when, notwithstanding the uncle’s objection, Karl accepts an invitation extended by one of the uncle’s friends.

Karl then befriends Robinson and Delamarche – European migrants who became tramps in New York – and, after falling out with then, accepts the post of a liftboy in a local hotel. He is dismissed after Robinson turns up drunk, and Karl puts him up in a dormitory. Thereafter Karl becomes the servant of Delamarche, who has become the kept man of a fading woman called Brunelda.[102] Karl attempts to escape Brunelda’s flat but is prevented by force from departing and has to spend the night on a balcony. A student, who is studying throughout night in the balcony of a building next door, advises Karl to stick to his post because jobs are hard to get [Kafka worked on this episode in August 1914: K-TT, p. 290].

In the last chapter of the novel [composed in October, 1914: K-TT, p. 292], Karl finds employment with the Oklahoma theatre, which advertises its being able to find a job for everybody. This last chapter is unconnected with the earlier part of the novel. A reader may wonder how Karl managed to escape the snares of Delamarche and Brunelda and start a new life.

 Dickens often portrayed vivid characters, like Sam Weller, the Artful Dodger and Miss Haversham’s lawyer, Jaggers. The reader feels close to the heroes and celebrates their breakthrough, for instance, David Copperfield’s success or Olivers’ salvation.  Further, Dickens was a master narrator.  Each of his books has a clear message; and he describes only venues known to him.

Yet another strength of Dickes is his ability to adjust to dialects. The Artful Dodger, Sam Weller and all lawyers portrayed by Dickens express themselves in a vocabulary suitable to them.  This is not so in Kafka’s writings. His characters – including the chambermaid Peppi in Das Schloβ – express themselves in Hochdeutsch (viz., BBC German). In consequence, their addresses appear tedious.      

Kafka had never set foot outside Europe. His descriptions of American places, such as New York, is based on seeing photographs and his characters are, predominantly, European migrants of the early 20^th century. It is possible that his aim was to dispel the myth about America being the land of universal success. Karl’s uncle, for instance, is fiscally successful but, at the same time, fails to develop as an individual. Robinson and Delamarche invoke the reader’s disdain rather than indorsement.

Finally, it is difficult to comprehend Brunelda. Her vulgarity comes across but, in all other regards, she remains sui generis. She and the Hotel’s Cook, who initially wishes to protect Karl, do not come to life.

To sum up, Kafka’s attempt to write a Dickensian novel was misguided. Dickens celebrated humanity. His art was to discern a positive streak even in negative characters. He believed in the eventual victory of the human spirit. Kafka emphasises weakness, dents in human nature and hopelessness. A novel, in which the hero manages to surmount obstacles put in his way, is alien to Kafka’s agenda.[103] In a novel of Charles Dickens, Karl might have started a new life after joining the Oklahoma Theatre. A diary entry, quoted beneath, suggests that  Kafka  had a sad ending in mind even for this novel.

People may, nevertheless, read the novel in order to comprehend the position of migrants in America of the early 20^th century. However, a more authentic picture thereof is provided by Upton Sinclair in Jungle and in Ilia Kazan’s America, America film.   The immigration story of East European Jews is masterly narrated by Shalom Aleichem. Kafka is not a reliable authority in point.

Kafka’s best achievement was the composition of The Trial [Der Proceβ]. He started writing it on 15 August, 1914 – after WWI had commenced [K-DE, p. 303] – and finished the first and the last chapter in the same year. Chapter 9 – the high point of the book – was composed in September 1914. The ending was clear in his mind. On 10 September 1915, he writes: “Rossman [of Amerika] and K. [viz. J.K. of The Trial] the innocent and the guilty, both executed without distinction in the end, the guilty one with a gentler hand, more pushed aside than struck down” [K-DE, pp. 343-4].

Max Brod had to combine the different parts of the novel. It is possible that A Dream [K-GW pp. 170–3; K-MTS, 222-4] – published in 1919[104] – was meant to be juxtaposed as a penultimate chapter. It would have been an excellent intermezzo between Jospeh K’s talk with the chaplain, who indicated that the heroe’s case was indefensible, and the latter’s execution.[105] Notably, Kafka did, occasionally, publish parts of full-length works as short stories. The Stoker is a case in point.  In respect of The Trial, Max Brod did not feel entitled to carry out the amalgamation of the extant manuscript and the short story. 

The Trial’s plot is straightforward. After waking up, Joseph K. [“J.K”] who occupies a senior position in a bank, is told by two strangers that he is under arrest. They are wardens of the ‘authority’ but have not been told the nature of the charge brought against him. The wardens’ supervisor arrives in due course and, again, is unable to advise J.K. about the charges. J.K. protests his innocence and the unreal nature of the proceedings. To his surprise, he is told by the supervisor that he may proceed to his bank and that two of his subordinates have been summoned so as to accompany him.

            After work, J.K. returns to his flat and attempts to find out further details about the case from his landlady, who had let the warders in. She is unable to give him any details but opines that the matter is not “serious”.   

            J.K. receives a message advising him to appear before the court on a Sunday. The case is set on this day so as not to interfere with J.K.’s work schedule. J.K. goes to the stipulated address. To his surprise, the court is situated in a dilapidated building. As the relevant room had not been properly described, he has difficulty finding it. When he finally arrives, the examining magistrate scolds him for being late but listens to his protestations of innocence. J.K. departs without having gleaned any further details respecting the charge.

            A few days later J.K.’s uncle calls on him at the bank.  The uncle, who had heard about the case, persuades J.K. to employ an advocate. J.K. agrees and is taken to the advocate’s premises.[106] The latter is bedridden. Still, he agrees to take on the case and implies that he will seek to sort it out through his contacts. The advocate’s nurse seduces J.K., who leaves the premises without a clear understanding of what the advocate proposes to do.

            Later still, one of the bank’s clients advises J.K. to seek the help of an Italian, who turns out to be the court’s painter. He, too, agrees to assist J.K., but makes it clear that a full acquittal is out of the question. J.K. may be grated a ‘temporary acquittal’, which means that the case may be reopened at any time, or a postponement, which means that the case will drag on indefinitely. The painter, like the advocate, can assist by pulling strings. J.K., who considers all the relevant facts, concludes that the advocate is unable to tackle the case and dismisses him.

            Next, J.K. is asked by his superior at the bank to take an important customer on a tour of the local cathedral. The customer does not turn up. Instead, J.K. has a conversation with a chaplain. The latter refers to an episode that had been narrated by Kafka in “Before the Law”, a short story published in 1919 in A Country Doctor [referred to above].[107] The story tells of a gate, before which stands a doorkeeper. A peasant comes up and asks to be admitted. The doorkeeper says that he cannot “admit him just now” [K-MTS, p. 197]. The peasant waits in front of the door for years. When he is about to pass away, he sees that the doorkeeper is about to close the door. In reply to the dying peasant’s question, the latter explains: “No one else could gain admission here, because entrance was intended for you alone.”

In response to J.K.’s complaint that the doorkeeper had misled the peasant by not telling him this fact earlier on, the chaplain replies that the peasant had not asked the decisive question. J.K. finally accepts the hopelessness of his case.[108] An even clearer condemnation of the system is voiced in “The Problem of Our laws” [K-EST, 404-6; K-GW, pp. 371-2]. In it, Kafka states: “Our laws are not generally known; they are kept secret by the small group of nobles who rule us.”

            In the last chapter of The Trial, J.K. is executed by the wardens. He shows no resistance. His last words are: “Like a dog.”

The Trial has been given different constructions. Max Brod – Kafka’s close friend and literary executor – takes the view that Kafka searches for God. There is no doubt that Brod’s views are of major importance. However, he was a deeply religious man and ardent Zionist. It is possible that he read his own views into his late friend’s oeuvre.

            A more widely held view is that The Trial voices Kafka’s bitter complaint about the individual’s struggle with the ‘establishment’, such as the state or those in charge of it. J.K. is guilty not in consequence of any offence or transgression on his part but simply because the state deems him so to be. His protestations of innocence are irrelevant; the very arrest establishes his guilt. This concept of guilt is also manifest in Kafka’s In the Penal Colony, where the aging officer takes the view that he is empowered to be both judge and executioner. The same notion is explored much later by George Orwell in 1984.

            In The Trial Kafka protests against the ‘red tape’ or bureaucratic obstacles put in a citizen’s way when he seeks ‘justice’ or an answer to a query. The term ‘Kafkaesque’, which has been accepted in modern English, is based on this understanding of the author’s works.

            It is believed that when Kafka wrote The Trial, he had in mind the complex and often ineffective system of the Habsburg Empire. Although this collapsed after WWI, it was in force at the time Kafka wrote this novel.

            A remaining puzzle concerns publication. The Trial’s manuscript was practically complete well before Kafka succumbed to his last illness. Why, then, did he not seek to publish it during his lifetime? Max Brod did not tackle the question. Neither did later biographers.

            Whilst there may not be a conclusive explanation, two possibilities need be considered. First, Kafka worked only when he was engulfed by the creative spirit. This induced him to pursue new texts. He may not have experienced a spell driving him back to this novel. Secondly, Kafka was a perfectionist. It is possible that he preferred to attend to the publication – and the editing – of shorter works. It is fortunate that the manuscript was preserved and that The Trial saw light.

            Kafka’s third novel – The Castle [Das Schloβ] – remained unfinished. He started it on 27 January, 1922, during a period of medical leave which he spent in Spiendelmühle (in Bohemia).  About two months later, he read out part of it to Max Brod [K-TT, pp. 512, 518]. He continued to work on it but, on 6 May, expressed serious doubts about it [K-TT, p. 522]. Later in the month he turned to one of his short stories but also continued work on his novel, completing chapter 16 [K-TT, p. 524]. However, on 11 September 1922, he told Max Brod: “I will evidently have to drop the Castle story forever, cannot pick up again” [K-LFR, p. 357; K-TT, p. 532]. In the event, he broke off in midsentence! His muse, though, had not left him. He completed the writing and the publication of other works.

             Initially, Kafka wrote The Castle in first-person, but, subsequently, struck out the “I” and substituted “K”. The plot is Kafkaesque. Late one evening a stranger – K – arrives at the B Inn and introduces himself as the land-surveyor.[109] There are at that time no vacant rooms, but the landlord allows him to sleep in the hall. K is woken up by an official, who advises him that the village is governed by the Castle and that staying anywhere in it is subject to permission thereof being granted. Initially, a telephone conversation with an authority of the Castle suggests that K is an impostor. A subsequent call affirms that a land-surveyor had been summoned.

            Next morning K proceeds to the Castle but is worn out by the heaps of snow in his way. Eventually, he finds temporary refuge in a house but, after a short sleep, departs and is told that strangers are usually not wanted. On his way back to the B Inn, he encounters two assistants provided by the Castle. On arrival, a messenger delivers to K a message from Klam – a senior officer of the Castle – in which K is assured of Klam’s goodwill but is advised that K’s immediate superior is the village’s mayor.

            Thinking that the messenger intends to return to the Castle, K accompanies him. K is surprised to discover that the messenger has walked back to his own home. Olga (the messenger’s sister) takes K to the H Inn – the second inn of the village – which is reserved for the temporary visits of the Castle’s occupants. In this inn, the barmaid, Frieda (who is that time Klam’s mistress), allows K to observe Klam through a peephole. Shortly thereafter she becomes K’s mistress and, next morning, returns with him to the B Inn. It then turns out that she is very friendly with the B Inn’s landlady, who had – in the past – also been Klam’s mistress.

            K reports to the mayor, who advises him that his appointment had been approved in consequence of a misunderstanding between different departments of the Castle. On the mayor’s behest, K is offered the posts of a school janitor, which Frieda persuades him to accept.

            Thereafter, the messenger delivers K a letter from Klam, praising K’s successful land surveying work as well as the assistants’ contribution.  Puzzled, K continued with his attempts to encounter Klam but with no avail.

K tries hard to carry out his duties at the school, notwithstanding the disdainful and unfriendly conduct of the principal and a female teacher. He resolves to stick it out until he manages to clarify the position.  

Initially, Frieda is of great help but, due to insinuations voiced by the B Inn’s landlady about K’s motives, Frieda becomes disillusioned. She abandons K after he goes to the messenger’s house to see whether the latter carries any further message.

In that house, Olga tells K all about the family’s misfortune. They have been shunned by all friends and acquaintances after Amelia – Olga’s sister – spurned the advances of a member of the Castle and had torn his letter of summons, delivered by a messenger, to pieces.

When K finally departs after Olga finishes her lengthy discourse, K encounters one of his assistants, who advises that he himself had by then won Frieda over. K, who is summoned to the H Inn by one of the officials of the Castle, goes over but, by error, enters into a room occupied by another official. The latter embarks on a lengthy and rambling monologue in which he talks about the grandiose nature of the officials. Thereafter, K is summoned by the official who had subpoenaed him and who delivers the simple message to the effect that Frieda ought to be told to go back to the bar.

K remains on the premises. This is forbidden, and he is forced back to the H Inn’s bar, where he falls fast asleep. When he wakes up, Peppi – Frieda’s temporary relief – embarks on a petty minded and vindictive discourse about Frieda, whom she envies.  Peppi, who has to return to her post as chambermaid, invites K to secretly join her and her two friends in their tiny accommodation. At this stage, the H Inn’s landlady enters the bar and, after some exchanges, tells K she might invite him to come over to see her next new dress. At this very point Kafka stopped writing.

The Castle has been given many diverse constructions. Max Brod sees in it a further religious[110] tome but, as already pointed out, his view is unsupportable. Another fancy construction is that Kafka predicted the holocaust.

Yet another explanation is that Kafka voices the sad fate of Jews in Central Europe. K is an outsider who seeks to remain in residence in the village.  Max Brod advises that Kafka had indicated that the proposed end was that K received a communication in which the Castle advised that, although a formal permit of residence remained unavailable, his stay in the village would be tolerated. This, however, is exactly what the mayor had told K in their interview. The mayor confirmed that nobody would dare to evict K.

Perhaps the best way is to emphasise what the novel seeks to tell and to accept that the ending has remained a puzzle – a puzzle not sorted out by Kafka.  His object was to narrate the capriciousness and absurd conduct of ‘the elite’.  Support for this view is to be found in “The Knock on the Manor Gate,” published posthumously [K-GW, pp. 350-1; K-EST, pp. 387-9]. In that story the narrator and his sister were “passing the gate of a great house on [their] way home.” The sister knocked on the gate or might have just made a knocking gesture. The villagers thereupon warned the narrator that they, or either of them, could be charged by the manor. The narrator convinces his sister to proceed to their home  and change her dress. He, himself, is arrested and imprisoned without trial. Contextually, it is clear that the narrator and his sister are not ordinary members of the village. Nobody questions, or protests against, the arrest. Just as in The Castle, the village and the ‘manor’ are separate entities.  The narrator is dealt with so harshly because nobody would seek to aid a stranger.

Admittedly, this construction is debatable. A clear, incontestable, point is that, in this tome just as in Das Schloβ, Kafka mocks the establishment. The mayor’s lengthy tirade, which seeks to justify the muddle caused by miscommunications between various department of the Castle, is a sharp satire. So is the soliloquy of the official, whose room K enters by error in the H Inn, in which this worthy sings the praise of the Castle’s high officials. Of particular comic impact is his assertion that these officials are so exhausted by loafing about during the day, that they have to deal with supplicants late at night.

Another absurdity is the veneration in which the villagers hold the Castle’s inmates. Questioning their way is regarded as forbidden. Further, the women of the village regard it a privilege to be possessed by such officials and are proud to become mistresses and brag about it. Amelia’s rejection of an official’s summons is condemned in the village and her entire family is disgraced.

The irrationality of the villagers’ veneration of the Castle’s prowess is even more clearly demonstrated in “The Refusal”, published posthumously [K-GW, pp. 367-370].[111] The tax-collector, who is the small village’s undisputed principal (originally commissioned by the capital and its elite), is approached by the villagers with a request that taxes be waived for a one year period because one district had been  destroyed by fire. The delegation is so awed by the tax-collector’s presence that, initially, its spokesman finds it difficult to voice the petition. When it is rejected, the decision is not questioned by anybody, except by members of the younger generations. They, though, are a minority and, at that stage, of no significance.

Here, as in Das Schloβ, the upper class is venerated by the population. It is feasible that Kafka was lampooning the bureaucratic machinery and the class structure of the Habsburg Domain. It is, of course, true that by the time Kafka started to write his last novel, this empire had collapsed. He might, however, have satirised the society that was in power prior to the end of WWI.  

Support for this view is to be found in the description of the Castle. Far from being described as a mighty palace, Kafka tells us: “It was neither an old stronghold nor a new mansion, but a rambling pile consisting of innumerable small buildings closely packed together and of one or two stories; if K. had not known that it was a castle he might have taken it for a little town.”[112]  It is possible that this was precisely its nature: a township up the hill occupied by the elite and out of bounds for the villagers.

Regrettably, Kafka does not refer to any women living in the Castle. It is possible that the H Inn’s landlady was, originally, an occupant of this township. Still, we have no information about any other females originating from there. In particular, we are not told how these might have felt about their husbands’ involvements with women of the village. For instance, did Klam have a wife and how did he explain to her his peccadillos at the H Inn?

It is possible that this lacuna is explainable by the statues of women in Europe during the early decades of the 20^th century. Their emergence as enjoying rights and full equality eventuated later in that century. However, women authors – such as Virginia Woolf – left their marks during Kafka’s lifetime. His approach is, arguably, old fashioned.

 

 

VI

Kafka’s shorter literary compositions – novellas and short stories – comprise works published during his lifetime and many that saw light posthumously. The former have been the subject of acclaim. The style is uniform and cohesive. The stream of consciousness technique – immortalised by authors like Virginia Wolf and James Joyce – was not utilised by Kafka or, indeed, by any member of his circle.

Very little is known about Kafka’s early writings. Some such publications – scattered amongst German language periodicals – are set out in some of his collected works [e.g., K-GW, pp. 215 et seq.] Most of the unpublished pieces, written before 2012 were destroyed by him.[113] Two, however, have survived.

 One – “Shamefaced Lanky and Impure in Heart” – was attached to a letter to Oskar Pollack of 20 December, 1902 [K-LFR, pp. 6-7]. The second is “Description of a Struggle” [K-GW, 233 et seq.; K-EST, pp. 253 et seq.]. Kafka worked on the latter intermittently from about 1904. He abandoned work in 1909 and gave the manuscript to Max Brod. An American author described these works as repellent. ‘Hard to understand’ would be a more appropriate conclusion.

Kafka’s first book was the collection entitled Meditation [K-EST, pp. 3 et seq.; Betrachtung: K-GW, pp. 13 et seq.]. It included eighteen very short pieces, some of which had been published in a periodical entitled Hypernion. Max Brod encouraged Kafka to republish them as a book. They were accepted in 1912 by the Rowohlt Verlag and saw light in 1913.[114]

The stories are, it is believed, poems set out in prose style. Each of them describes an internal struggle of the writer who pours out his emotive reaction. This is particularly evident in “The Wish to be a Red Indian” [K-EST, p. 20], in which the writer expresses his desire to escape his current, dreary, existence and materialise in another realm. 

Two further stories need be dealt with. “The Tradesman” [“Der Kaufman” K-GW, pp. 201-2; K-EST, pp. 13-15] describes the unsatisfactory existence and inner turmoil of the narrator, who has gained wealth but has, nevertheless remained lonely and unsatisfied.  In “Unhappiness” [“Unglücklichsein” K-GW, 27-31; K-EST, pp. 20-4] the narrator has a chat with a female-ghost-child, that appears late in the evening in his lonely room. The exchange of words leaves an impact on the narrator. He goes out but a neighbour, whom he meets on the stairs, convinces him that, if one does not believe in ghosts, there is no need not to fear them. Thereupon, the narrator decides to return to his room and goes to bed.  The encounters helped him to overcome his misery.

A reader may conclude from these pieces that the author enjoys his misery and loneliness. It is a state to which he is used and which, actually, agrees with him. This view derives some support from the “The Judgment” [“Das Urteil”], composed in a single session proximate to his first engagement with Felice Bauer.  About the composition, he tells us: “I wrote [the story] in one sitting on the night of 22^nd-23^rd [of September 1912] from ten o’clock at night to six o’clock in the morning. I was hardly able to pull my legs out from under the desk, they had got so stiff from writing. The fearful strain and joy … as if I were advancing over water” [K-DE, p. 212]. He adds: “Only this way can writing be done, only with such coherence, with such a complete opening of the body and the soul” [ibid, p. 213].

In this story [K-GW, pp. 32 et seq.; K-EST, pp. 27 et seq.; K-MTS, pp. 35 et seq.] a young merchant – G – who has effectively been running the family’s business since his mother’s demise, writes a letter to a friend, who has settled in a foreign country, informing the friend of G’s recent engagement. Having doubts about informing his friend about the development in G’s life, G decides to discuss the letter with his father prior to dispatching it. The father, who has aged perceptively and has been in a foul mood ever since his wife’s demise, accuses G of side-stepping him in the business and cheating him. He then discloses that he, himself, has an active correspondence with the friend, who reads the father’s letters and discards G’s. The father then avers that G is a disappointment and orders him to drown himself. G, who feels rejected by both his father and his friend and whose world collapses on him, jumps to his death off a bridge.

At the instigation of Max Brod, “The Judgment” was published in Kurt Wolff’s Arcadia Yearbook in 1913. Kafka emphasised its autobiographical elements in a diary entry of 11 February, 1913 [K-DE, pp. 214-5]. The construction of the story is debated. On plain reading, it tells the reader that not everybody who is regarded a friend is really one. It also reflects Kafka’s troubled relationship with his father and relates that once a person loses his illusions, his entire world collapses on him.

Kafka’s writers’ outburst or inspiration resulted also in the composition of his most famous novella: The Metamorphosis [K-EST, pp. 73 et seq.; K-MTS, pp. 85 et seq.; Die Verwandlung: K-GW, pp. 70 et seq.]. The idea of writing it came to Kafka on 17 November, 1912 [K-TT, p. 182], during the period in which he was still working on Amerika. He read parts of the novella  out to friends and family, whilst continuing to work on it during the next few weeks.[115] Although he submitted it for publication in March 1913 [K-TT, p. 207], it was not published until October 1915.[116] In a diary entry of 19 January, 1914, Kafka expressed an antipathy to the story and doubts about the ending [K-DE, p. 254; K-TT, p. 254]. Later generations disagreed.

The first line of the work is famous: “As Gregor Samsa [“G.S”] awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect” [K-EST, p. 75]. The German original refers to ‘ungeheueren Ungeziefer’ [K-GW, p. 70], which, literally, means ‘huge repulsive bug’.[117]  Being a commercial traveller, G.S. feared being late to work and missing his train. His firm’s chief clerk came over to remonstrate and, with an effort, G.S. managed to open his locked bedroom door. Shocked by the apparition, the chief clerk fled.

G.S.’s transformation led to an upheaval in his family. Ever since the bankruptcy of his father’s firm, G.S. became the family’s breadwinner. The transformation turned him into a caretaker. The family started to shun him and confined him to his own room. The father had to take the job of a night porter and the pampered sister became a secretary.

Initially, the family members tried to look after G.S. His sister, in particular, was sympathetic. As time lapsed, they became antagonistic. The sister cleaned his room perfunctorily. The father bombarded G.S. with apples when the latter emerged from his prison-room. Eventually, the sister removed all furniture and turned his cell it into a rumpus-room. To improve the family’s finances, they let out some rooms. The tenants gave notice to quit when they saw G.S. Shortly thereafter the family had a council, in which the sister – who had grown from a child into a good-looking young woman – took the view that they should get rid of “it”. G.S., who listened, starved himself to death. The family, thereupon, decided to move to a cheaper flat. All its members were relieved.

Kafka does not relate the cause of G.S.’s transformation. Contextually, it may be gleaned that the uninspiring and monotonous job turned G.S. into a sort of beetle. On a plain reading[118], The Metamorphosis deals with family’s dynamics.[119] Once the caregiver becomes a caretaker, he has outlived his usefulness. Family members – who are supposed to be friends and well-wishers – turn against him.  It is the very message of The Judgment: beware of Good Weather Friends. All in all, Man is alone. The only being which he can trust is he himself.

A point that tends to be overlooked is the novella’s humour – albeit black humour. G.S.’s struggle to open the locked door is amusing. As his numerous petit legs are unsuitable for the task, he has to use his mouth. Friends and family to whom Kafka read out the story appreciated the point. So should current readers. They ought to comprehend that humour – like grammar and syntax – may undergo changes with time.

Another novella written by Kafka during this period is In the Penal Colony. He wrote it on 5 October, 1914 [K-TT, 292],[120] although some fragments were added in 1917 [ibid, p. 372]. Publication was delayed.[121] In July and August 1916 the Kurt Wolff publishing house and Kafka himself were dubious about the inclusion of the story in a new book [K-TT, pp. 335-7, 348]. Finally, in October 1918, Kafka agreed to its publication [K-TT, p. 418]. It saw light a year later in book form [K-TT, p. 416].

The plot is restricted to four persons: (i) the semi-official explorer, who is paying a visit to the penal colony, (ii) the ageing officer, (iii) the soldier and (iv) the prisoner. Two further characters are referred to: the Old Commandant and his Successor. The officer acquaints the explorer with a torture machine, conceived and used by the Old Commandant. Frequently, inmates of the penal colony were summarily condemned by the Old Commandant and tormented to death: the burrow of the device executed the condemned man by the repetitive inscription on his bare body of the offence of which he had been convicted, e.g. “though shalt not steal”.[122] Usually such a scene took approximately twelve hours and was attended by a cheering crowd. The Successor disapproved of this procedure and the machine had fallen into disrepair.

The officer seeks to convince the explorer of the legitimacy of such proceedings and wants to demonstrate the working of the machine by executing the prisoner, whom he has condemned because the latter had shown disrespect to his superior. The soldier’s only role is to act as guard of the shackled prisoner. Neither of them appreciates what is going on. When the explorer disapproves of such proceedings, the officer straps himself to the machine, which stabs him to death.

The explorer is then taken to a cafeteria in the colony and is told that the Old Commandant had been buried beneath its ground. The officer’s numerous die-hard attempts to dig him out and bury him elsewhere had been unsuccessful. Thereafter the explorer leaves the colony but bars the soldier and the prisoner from accompanying him.

This novella, too, has been given varying constructions, including the strange argument that it is a religious text. On a plain reading, the story deals with progress. Whilst members of the old generation continue to respect the tenets applicable during days gone by, their successors reject outdated dogma and oppressive policies. The explorer – a man of the new age – is not prepared to accept either the unrestrained powers assumed by the Old Commandant or his method of brutal execution. When the officer – a remnant of days past – gleans that his doctrines and outlook are rejected, he opts for death.

The ending of the novella has been ignored by critics. It is significant that the explorer prevents the soldier and the prisoner from leaving the penal colony. No reason is given for his act. Is it possible that Kafka wanted to tell his readers that society at large ought to be protected from the influx of unwanted individuals?

Like most of Kafka’s other works, In the Penal Colony has a comic element. The officer’s ramblings, the prisoner’s bearings and the festive nature of the Old Commandant’s ceremonies manifest black humour.

Kafka’s next tome was his second short stories collection: The Country Doctor [Der Landarzt]. Like his previously mentioned novella this collection was published by Kurt Wolff, appearing in May 1920 (bearing 1919 as publication date).[123] Kafka dedicated it to his father. It comprised fourteen pieces. Most of them were written in 1917, that is, after Kafka’s sad diagnosis.  It is noteworthy that, when Kafka cast them, he ignored the turmoil resulting from WWI.

The first story in this collection is “The New Advocate”. Kafka composed it on 10 February, 1917.[124] The new advocate, named Bucephalus, was, (in times of old) Alexander the Great’s charger. This hero was willingly admitted to practice because, “modern society being what it is, Bucephalus is in a different position, and therefore, considering his importance in the history of the world, he deserves at least friendly reception” [K-EST, p. 163]. Kafka points out that in his own days “there are still plenty of men who know how to murder people” [id]. The technological advances of modern times have not changed mankind’s negative core.  This short and pungent tale is Kafka’s only literary protest about the carnage of WWI.

The second story, which bears the same title as the collection, was composed by Kafka in December 1916 [K-TT, p. 356]. It was initially published in an Almanach published by Kurt Wolff in Leipzig in 1918 [ibid, p. 399]. Later that year, the Wolff publishing house decided to include it in the short stories collection and actually sent Kafka the proofs [ibid., p. 403].[125]

In “The Country Doctor” the narrator, the district’s medical general-practitioner, is summoned by a sick man’s family residing in a village other than his. He is in difficulty because his own horse died on the previous day. His maid’s (Rosa’s) attempt to borrow a horse is unsuccessful and so he feels desperate. Then, unexpectedly, a groom with two horses turns up in the doctor’s pigsty. The groom harnesses the horses to the buggy. The doctor fears to leave him alone with Rosa but the horses take off despite the doctor’s protests and deliver him forthright at the patient’s house. 

To start with, the doctor believes the patient is shamming. He then discovers a nasty wound at the patient’s side and notes that worms have penetrated it. The parents of the sick man and some villagers in attendance strip the doctor and place him in the bed beside the patient. The latter, though, expresses his death wish. Unable to help or to fulfil the role of a priest – who would have been able to give the final anointment – the doctor gets out of the bed and flees. This time the horses proceed in slow motion. The doctor realises that he will freeze to death before getting back home and that, in any event, he is bound to lose his practice. The sacrifice of Rosa was fruitless. 

The story has been given various constructions. On a plain reading, it makes three points. First, as the people have lost their faith, they expect a physician to have magic remedial powers. His mere touch ought to help a patient to overcome his disease. Secondly, mankind needs prejudices. Once it loses faith, it needs another type of belief. Thirdly, Kafka tells the reader that Man cannot defeat fate. When overcome by circumstances, he is unable to resist. It is difficult to discern any humour – black or satirical – in this story. It is bleak. Nevertheless, Kafka experts loud it. Their reason for doing so is unclear.

Three other stories of the collection require mention. In February 1917, Kafka wrote “Jackals and Arabs” [K-TT, p. 360; K-EST, pp. 175 et seq.]. In the following October, it was published in Der Jude – a periodical run by Martin Buber. Three months later, it was published in a daily newspaper in Vienna [K-TT, p. 392] and in December in Berlin [ibid, p. 419].

This story, too, is ephemeral. The narrator travels to a Middle Eastern country. During the night, a senior Jackal approaches him and asks him to lead ‘them’ out of the bondage or slavery imposed by the Arabs. He assures the narrator that Jackals do not fear the Arabs. Yet, when the Arabs appear in the morning, the Jackals disperse. The scene is left to the Arabs.

It is easy to discern the satirical, perhaps even comic, aspect of the tale. The Jackals proclaim their strength and independence yet are unable to live up to their leader’s brave assertions. On a plain reading, Kafka expresses his doubts about the oppressed class’s ability to stand up to their masters. This, too, is a story imbued with pessimism. Kafka doubts the propaganda of the self-appointed freedom preachers. The disappointing developments of totalitarian regimes during the 20^th century indicate that he had a point.

The third story in the collection meriting discussion, is “A Report to an Academy” [K-GW, pp. 172 et seq.; K-EST, pp. 195 et seq.]. Kafka wrote it on 6 April 1917 [K-TT, p. 363] and first published it in Der Jude [ibid, p. 387].[126]  The narrator – a chimpanzee dubbed Rotpeter {viz. Red Peter} – lost his freedom when caught in the jungle. Being keen to get out of the captivity-cage, he transformed himself into a human being by learning how to drink, to smoke and to spit. He even managed to utter some sounds akin to words. He thereupon became a celebrity. People flocked to watch his performance in the circus. He advises the Academy that he has come to terms with his lot and enjoys his new existence. But the freedom he had experienced in the jungle is far in the past. He has forgotten virtually everything about it.

The story is Kafka’s sharp satire about the nature of the common man. He also tells us that people often prefer a comfortable but regimented existence to freedom. Freedom and wilderness go in tandem.

The last story is “Ein Altes Blatt” [K-GW, p. 152; translated as “An Old Manuscript” [K-EST, pp. 171-2]. It was first published it in a periodical in Berlin [K-TT, p. 377]. After its publication in the new collection, it was republished in a Zionist periodical (Selbstwehr of Prague) in September 1921 [K-TT, p. 501].  

This is one of Kafka’s bleakest stories. An alien military has overtaken a country. The nomads do not converse with the local populace – emitting only sounds akin to the chirping of magpies – exploit the citizens and even the emperor is unable to drive them out.  In effect, the locals have to bear them and adjust to them.  

On a plain reading, Kafka bemoans the fate of advanced populations, beaten by, or even overtaken, be barbarians. History furnishes examples of such developments. The destruction of the Western Roman Empire by swarms of German tribes is a case in point. Fortunately, such conquerors often develop a culture of their own. That of Germany is but one instance.

The remaining stories in the collection, too, demonstrate Kafka’s negative assessment of mankind. As already discussed, “Before the Law” became the gamut of Chapter 9 of The Trial. “A Dream” was, it is believed, meant to constitute the penultimate chapter of this book. “An Imperial Message” [K-GW, p. 163; K-EST, p. 183], in which the emperor’s messenger is unable to deliver it because he is bogged down by the labyrinthine structure of the see of government, viz. red tape, reiterates Kafka’s distrust of bureaucracy.

A story that was originally meant for inclusion in the collection – “The Bucket Rider” [K-GW, p. 228; K-EST, 205] – was composed in January 1917 [K-TT, p. 359] and published in a daily in Prague on 25 December, 1921 [ibid., at p. 509]. It is Kafka’s darkest message about human nature. A destitute resident of Prague proceeds to the house of a merchant, from whom he purchased coal in the past. He begs for some coal on credit so as to survive the freezing spell. The merchant’s wife convinces her husband that nobody is calling on them. They ignore their fellowman’s desperate appeal for assistance.

Kafka was lucky that, when he himself was down and out, his friends stood by him and did not shirk away. His dark verdict of Man’s nature may therefore be regarded as an unwarranted dismissal of humanity. In Kafka’s pessimistic portrayal, the good Samaritan is absent.

Kafka’s third and last collection of short stories, A Hunger Artist, appeared in 1924. The publishers – Die Schmiede Verlag of Berlin – entered into contract for its publication in March [K-TT, p. 566]. Kafka needed the royalties to facilitate payment of outstanding accounts. He corrected the proofs in May. The volume saw light in August, that is, after Kafka’s demise.

The volume includes four stories, dealing, principally, with the vainglory issue. “First Sorrow – Erstes Leid” was written in March 1922 [K-TT, p. 517], first published in January 1923 in a local periodical and a year later in Berlin [ibid., p. 580]. It deals with a trapeze artist, who stays up “high in the vaulted domes of the great theatres” [K-EST, p. 211; K-GW, 181]    and, when the circus moves from town to town, insists on travelling up the luggage rack in a compartment of the train occupied only by the manager and himself. On one such occasion he asks, sobbingly, that he be given two trapezes. The manager is pleased to comply but worries as to the artists’ fate once he loses the ability to perform.

The second story – “A Little Woman” – written in December 1923 [K-TT, p. 560]  was, initially, published in a local daily on 20 April 1924 [ibid., p. 572]. It is the odd story out in this collection. Apprehension of vainglory is not its subject. The narrator, who has noted his being immensely disliked by ‘the little women’, finally resolve to ignore her moods altogether. In this instance, Kafka shows how ordinary people, just like artists who had fallen out of favour, ought to be disregarded when their behaviour is unreasonable.

The third story bears the name of the collection: “Der Hungerkünstler” [K-GW, pp. 190-9; K-MTS, pp. 252-264]. It was written on 23 May 1922 [K-TT, p. 523]   and initially appeared in dailies in Berlin and in Prague [ibid, p. 534].

The narrator tells the reader that, during his heyday, people flocked to observe the hunger artist and enjoyed taking meals whilst he fasted. He found his falling out of fashion and being side-stepped unbearable. Death was the only appropriate end.

“Josephine the Singer, or the Mouse People” [K-GW, pp. 199-214; K-MTS, pp. 264-283] is both the last story in the collection and Kafka’s ultimate literary piece. He wrote it on 17 March, 1924 and had it published, initially, in a local daily on April 20.

The plot is straightforward. During her zenith, Josephine’s whistling was regarded high art, although many other ‘mice’ were able to pipe like her. Still, she became a public figure, was excused of doing any common work and enjoyed her popularity. When she lost her gift – as well as the public admiration she had become used to – she simply faded away.

Is there an autobiographical element in this story or, perhaps, in the collection as a whole? The point is debatable. It will be recalled that, on the one hand, Kafka disparaged the competitive elements in pursuits such as racing. On the other hand, if a person did not seek fame or recognition, why would he lament its expiration or, in other words, why would he sympathize with the victims of their own vainglory?

 

 

VII

Kafka’s remaining short texts were published posthumously. In respect of them it is essential to bear in mind that Kafka ought to remain “an author to be read, not someone for experts.”[127]  This sentiment advocates extreme caution in respect of a discussion of Kafka’s stories published posthumously. Some are outstanding. Others raise the reader’s eyebrows. In all such cases it is, of course, crucial to bear in mind that these texts did not undergo the meticulous revision and copy-editing notable in works that saw light during Kafka’s short life.

Kafka started “Description of a Struggle” [K-GW, pp. 231 et seq.; K-EST, pp. 253 et seq.] in 1904 [K-TT, p. 61]. A first version was completed in 1907 but did not come down to us. In June 1909, extracts – later included in the current version – appeared in a periodical published in Prague at that time. They were entitled “Conversation with a Supplicant” [K-GW, pp. 217 et seq.] and “Conversation with a Drunkard” [ibid., pp. 223 et seq.]. Later on, in the autumn, Kafka started to work on the novella that has come down to us [id.].[128]  He continued to work on it but then abandoned it and, as already mentioned, gave the draft to Max Brod.

Another story, which met with the same fate, is “Wedding Preparation in the Country” [K-GW, pp. 233 et seq.; K-EST, pp. 298 et seq.].  Kafka embarked on it in August 1905 [K-TT, p. 64] and turned back to it in the summer of 1909 [ibid., p. 90]. Max Brod lauded it in a public lecture delivered on 28 January 1910. Thereafter, the piece is not mentioned during Kafka’s days.

The two stories are significant for an assessment of Kafka progress as an author. In the former, he talks about an individual’s struggle to free himself from the company of an intruder who forced himself on the narrator. The latter is the story of a groom, who makes the preparation for his trip to the wedding ceremony. Both are arguably the domain of the professional critic. An ordinary reader may remain perplexed to the very end of these pieces. The same applies in respect of many stories published posthumously.[129] Some, though, have remained relevant and instructive.

“The Village Schoolmaster – The Giant Mole” [K-EST, pp. 327 at seq.] deals with the spotting of a giant mole by the village’s schoolmaster. His discussion of his find is ridiculed by the scientific community. So is the pamphlet of the narrator – a local businessman – who embarks on his own investigation of the matter and comes down in support of the schoolmaster’s assertion.  The schoolmaster feels threatened by this support because he suspects that the narrator attempts to ‘steal’ his discovery. The message is clear: an individual’s genuine discovery is often discredited by the ones in power. Supporters of a theory rejected in such a manner risk falling out with those they seek to back.

In “The Hunter Gracchus” [K-EST, 366-370] Kafka deals with the issue known as the fate of the ‘Eternal Jew’ or the ‘Flying Dutchman’. The twist in Kafka’s story is that Gracchus was not sentenced to the fate of perpetual wandering by a superior entity. He was unable to reach the shore of the netherland because his boatman fell asleep whilst they were crossing ‘the Stych’. This error by a being over which Gracchus had no control resulted in this hero’s infinite odyssey.

An amusing piece is “The Proclamation” [K-EST, pp. 371-2; “An Alle meine Hausgenossen” K-TT, 361], written in February 1917. A resident of a large house invites ‘all my co-tenants’ to participate in the arrangement for the disposal of toy guns. As nobody pays an attention to this proclamation, the resident issues a new one – expressed in the same ponderous   style – advising that nobody had taken up his offer. This is one of Kafka’s sharpest lampooning of the bureaucratic mode of expression employed by the Habsburg Empire, which was still in existence at the time of writing. Notably, the same verbose and clumsy style continues to be used by the Republic of Austria for such simple documents as probate orders.

A novella which Kafka wrote on 8 March 1917 [K-TT, p. 362] – The Great Wall of China [K-GW, pp. 338 et seq.; K-EST, pp. 374] – was published by Max Brod in a collection of the same name, which appeared in 1931.[130] The plot is simple. The narrator – an aging building worker – tells the story of the construction of the great wall. Historically, the narration leaves much to be desired. Research has established that sections of the Great Wall were built before China’s unification by Qin Shi Huang, whose capital was Xianyang (on the outskirts of modern Xian) and not (as implied by Kafka) Beijing (Peking). Kafka’s object though was not to discuss the Great Wall but to decry the blind obedience in which the people used to hold  the emperor, often without even knowing his identity. They might  worship an emperor who had been long deceased and whose dynasty was no longer be in power. The novella incorporates another story – “An Imperial Message” (discussed earlier on) – which (like the one under discussion) condemns the untoward repercussions exercised by an unwieldy government and its machinery. When the novella was written, the Habsburg Empire was intact. Kafka lampooned the intricate bureaucratic machinery and the people’s blind obedience to it; he did not seek to convey any message about the Kingdom of the Heaven.

Some readers may wonder what had induced Kafka to keep repeating the same message. In reality, though, such an approach is quite common. By way of illustration, take D.H. Lawrence. His message about sexual emancipation comes up in most of his writings.

Literary texts deserve a plain reading. If a message is clear, there is no need to search for camouflaged meanings. Experts may object on the basis that such an approach is uncultured. In response, attention may be drawn to Hans Christian Andersen’s “The New Emperor’s Clothes”. Was the little boy, who pointed out that the emperor was naked, a philistine? 

In my opinion it is unreasonable to read rarified meanings into works by Kafka that were published posthumously. Such works were written down on the spur of a moment’s inspiration. Kafka did not revise them or refine them for publication. This approach may, of course, deprive experts of their freedom of speculation; they may even claim that their muse is being fettered. But then, do they really believe that Kafka’s object was to aggrandise them?

Two posthumously published stories illustrate the point respecting spontaneity.  “The Bridge” [K-GW, p. 332;  K-EST, pp. 372-3, probably written in 1917] tells the reader how it fears collapsing when a person tries to cross it. The bridge expresses human feelings and fears for its own safety. Attempts have been made to construe it as an autobiographic tale. But then, Kafka never gave such an indication.  The remarkable aspect of the story is that Kafka attributes consciousness to an inanimate object.[131]

The second piece is “The Student” [K-EST, 323-4][132], in which Kafka tells us that “[e]very evening for the past week my neighbour in the adjoining room has come to wrestle with me” [ibid, p. 23]. The story goes on in this vein and, on a plain reading, does not tell us any more than these lines. The question is: why did Max Brod see fit to publicise such a curtailed sketch and why do other pundits seek to read an ulterior message into it?

Some of Kafka’s stories published posthumously are  excellent sketches and, when read on this basis, are both informative and revealing. By way of illustration, take “A Common Confusion” [K-EST, pp. 396-7; “Eine altägliche Verwirrung”: K-GW, p. 396], which tells readers a great deal about human nature. “A” wants to conclude a transaction with “B”.  Confusion arises because each travels to the other’s business quarter so that they miss each other. In the ensuing turmoil, the deal falls through, although both men had initially the intention of concluding it. The story advises that mankind is unable to control unpredictable events.

A similar message is conveyed by “The City Coat of Arms” [K-EST, pp. 400-1; “Das Stadtwappen”: K-GW, pp. 361-2], which advises that the Tower of Babel could not be completed due to the confusion arising from the fact that each generation destroyed the work of its predecessors by improving it on the basis of technological developments. The building work, though, went on because the bureaucratic state machinery did not wish to call an end to it. Both stories[133] are in tandem with Kafka’s philosophy, which is that mutations cannot be controlled by planning.  The story also satirises red tape, which used to be so common in the Habsburg Empire.

An even sharper satire is the very short sketch of “Poseidon” [K-EST, pp. 401-2; K-GW, p. 363], written in September 1920 [K-TT, p. 471]. We are told that, far from launching ocean storms, Poseidon was always sitting at his desk.  He could have had as many assistants as he wanted   but “since he took his job very seriously, he insisted on going through all the accounts again himself” [K-EST, p. 401]. Whilst he did not enjoy his work, he carried it out because it had been assigned to him. In consequence he had never sailed on the oceans he commanded. He postponed such a trip to the “end of the world”.  Like the Habsburg administrators, Poseidon was bogged down by paperwork of questionable importance.

The conclusion about such frailty of mankind is underscored by Kafka’s animal stories, which tell the reader that when fate and planning are in conflict, the former prevails. Thus, in The Metamorphosis, Gregor Samsa cannot undo the transformation effected by destiny. A similar message is conveyed by “The Burrow” [K-EST, pp. 467 et seq.; “Der Bau” [K-GW, pp. 427 et seq.], written in 1923 [K-TT, pp. 558, 560]. In this incomplete lengthy short story (or short novella), the narrator – an anthropomorphic rodent – relates how he constructed an underground labyrinth but – despite the care taken in the construction work – he continued to fear a hidden – unspecified – enemy, who would be able to defeat him when attacking.  In this instance, too, Kafka advises that dangers triggered off by fate cannot be defeated by careful and elaborate planning.[134]

The same message, in a slightly modified form, can be derived from “The Vulture” [K-EST, pp. 410-1; K-GW, 378], written at the end of September 1920 [K-TT, p. 475]. The narrator – a human being – is tortured by a vulture, which keeps hacking his feet.  A passerby, described as a gentleman, offers to fetch his gun and kill the beast. As he departs, the vulture, which understood the man’s words, “thrust its beak through [the narrator’s] deep, into [him]” and kills him. Once again, man is unable to escape the vicissitudes of fate. The story also highlights the danger of relying on helpful promises made by strangers.

 This second point is made in yet another brief sketch, entitled “A Little Fable” [K-EST, p. 414; K-GE, p. 381]. A mouse laments that the world is getting smaller and that proceeding along lengthy walls would lead it to a trap. It accepts the cat’s advice to change course, whereupon the latter eats the mouse up. Obviously, the mouse had no escape route and its reliance the cat’s – a seemingly friendly stranger’s – advice was misguided.

It is believed that the best way to understand Kafka’ writings is based on plain reading. His dislike for fables is expressed in “On Parables” [K-EST, p. 466; “Von den Gleichnissen”: K-GW, p. 426]. Expressing doubts about the sayings of ‘the wise’, he tells us that “[a]ll these parables set out to say [is] merely that the incomprehensible is incomprehensible” [K-EST, p. 466]. He adds: “If you only followed the parables, you yourselves would become parables” [id.]. This perceptive statement leads to the conclusion that many writing that Kafka jotted down on the spur of a moment should be taken at face value. Reading hidden message into them is unrealistic and contrary to Kafka’s spirit.

 

         VIII

It will be recalled that in 1917 Kafka spent a few months in a farm run by his sister in Zürau. During this period, as well as in1918, he composed sayings (or aphorisms) and some brief sketches. The latter are usually published together with his short stories. Some of the aphorisms were included, in 1931, by Max Brod in The Great Wall of China collection but, currently, are available in a separate publication.[135]

A typical sketch of this period is “The Truth about Sanscho Panza” [K-EST, 397; K-GW, p. 357]. Written in 1917 [K-TT, p. 385], it comprises just 12 lines. It relates that Don Quixote was nothing but Sancho’s demon, whom he set out on the maddest exploits. The message is clear: an ordinary man – like Sancho Panza or any other Tom, Dick or Harry, who goes in the morning to his work, returns in the afternoon and thrives in this well-defined existence – often has phantasies of grandeur, in which he ceases to be one of the crowd and becomes a knight errant.  

Another amusing sketch, written at about the same time, is “A Common Confusion”, discussed earlier.  The confusion, which can arise in the course of the life of simple persons, ties in neatly with one of Kafka’s aphorisms, which reads: “There are two great sins from which all others follow – impatience and indolence. Due to impatience, they were thrown out of Paradise; due to indolence they don’t go back. But perhaps there’s just one cardinal sin – impatience. Due to impatience, they were thrown out of Paradise; they don’t run back due to impatience” [K-ZAB, p. 3].[136]

This remarkable saying suggests that the seven sins, viz. vulgarity, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth, spelt out by Pope Gregory the Great and analysed by Thomas Acquinas, stem from impatience or indolence. Kafka further suggests that impatience and indolence go hand in glove. It remains an open question, whether – in a revision that never took place – Kafka might have elaborated on the connection between impatience and indolence, which – on their face – appear to be distinct faults.

The Zürau aphorisms resemble Kafka’s meditations, published years earlier. Both are the reflections of a lonely man, who despairs of life although he finds it amusing and who has retained a sceptic outlook. In aphorism 13, he states: “The first sign of the dawn of wisdom is the wish to die. This life seems unbearable, another unreachable” [K-ZAB, p. 11][137]. In No. 25 he avers: “How can you rejoice in the world except by fleeing to it?” [ibid., p. 23]. Sheer contemplation and observation cannot bring you a sense of fulfilment. Your own endeavours to set yourself free are bound to fail. Accordingly, “[i]n the struggle between you and the world, back the world” [aphorism No. 52, ibid., p. 54]. In aphorism No. 57, he advises that communication cannot get you out of the morass. “Language can only hint at things beyond the world of senses, it can’t even be used for a crude comparison, because language comes from the physical world and so is bound to possessions and all that goes with possession” [K-ZAB, at p. 60].[138] This despair, or negation of hope, dictates loneliness. The point is underscored by No. 70: “Dealing with people tempts self-reflection” [ibid., p. 79]. Staying on one’s own is preferable. 

A similar sentiment is expressed in “Resolution” [K-EST, p. 11; K-GW, p. 18] – the fifth Meditation: “So perhaps the best resource is to meet everything passively … and, if you feel that you are being carried away, not to let yourself be lured into taking a single unnecessary step … in short, with your own hand to throttle down whatever ghostly life remains in you, that is, to enlarge the final peace of the graveyard and let nothing survive save that.” A similar sentiment is expressed in aphorism 103, which tells us that “[y]ou can turn from suffering of the world, you’re free and it would be natural for you, but perhaps this turning away is the only suffering you might avoid” [K-ZAB, p. 106].

In Kafka’s opinion self-sacrifice is pointless. It may have an unexpected outcome.  “Martyrs don’t undervalue the body, they allow it to be raised to the cross – this unites them with their enemies” [aphorism 33, K-ZAB, p. 33].  It follows that it might be best to join your enemies before being crossed.

In general, Kafka advocates humility. He opines: “Humility gives everyone, even those lonely and in despair, the strongest bond with others” [aphorism 106i, K-ZAB, p. 110]. The same maxim emphasizes that prayer is strongly connected with “the power to strive” and is only a means of communication. Some of Kafka’s stories, like “The Description of a Struggle” and “Unmasking a Confidence Trickster”,[139] show that when these sentiments are taken to their extreme, they may hinder an individual from getting rid of unwanted company.  

In some of his aphorisms, Kafka deals with evil. In No. 19 he says: “Don’t believe what Evil says, you can’t keep secrets from him” [K-ZAB, p. 17]. Further: “Evil doesn’t ask for faith once it is sunk deep into you” [No. 28, ibid. p. 27]. In another saying, he tells us: “Your hidden motives when accepting Evil, are not yours but those of Evil” [No. 29i, ibid., at p. 28].

A sad aspect of Kafka’s belief is that evil – which is not defined – is the natural state of mankind. He concludes his 85^th aphorism by advising that “this world is made of Evil” [K-ZAB, p. 87]. In his opinion, “[s]in is our condition regardless of guilt” [ibid., p. 85]. This saying, which is reflected in The Trial, makes it difficult to distinguish between good and evil. “In a certain sense the good is desolate” [No. 30, ibid., p. 30].

None of the aphorisms deals with religious belief as a concept. As pointed out earlier, Kafka realised that a human being needs to have trust in something indestructible. In the same vein he confides: “What’s more cheerful than believing in a household god!” [No. 68; ibid., p. 70]. His approach to sin is equally ambiguous. He observes: “We aren’t only sinful because we ate from the Tree of Knowledge, but also because we did not eat from the Tree of Life” [No. 83, ibid., at p. 83]. Accordingly, there is no need to lament the fall: “We weren’t banished from Paradise because of this {meaning the eating fruit of the Tree of Knowledge}, but because we might have eaten of the Tree of Life” [No. 82, ibid., at p. 84]. Finally, in aphorism No. 100, we are told: “The ways of the Devil can be known, but there can be no faith in them, the Devil stands before us and there’s nothing more to believe in” [ibid., at p. 103]. The influence of Faust and of Job is self-evident.

All in all, the impression gained from Kafka’s sayings is that his assessment of life did not undergo a transformation as he advanced in age. The person staring at us is a benevolent sceptic, who craves for loneliness and a quiet existence[140] yet has a need for company or an audience. In one of his very last sayings his position is neatly summarised by himself: “Low vitality, an upbringing full of misunderstanding, and being a confirmed bachelor result in scepticism, but this isn’t necessary, and to protect the scepticism some sceptics marry – at least they marry an idea and become believers” [K-ZAB, p. 182].[141]

Kafka was too realistic, too imbued with self-knowledge, to become ‘a believer”. Although he was intrigued by religious issues, he did not come down in support of any specific religious dogma. Further, he did not draw a clear distinction between heavenly and physical love. In his own words: “Sensual love distorts our view of heavenly love; by itself it couldn’t, but unknowingly sensual love has a trace of the heavenly – so it can” [aphorism No. 79, K-ZAB, p. 81]. His embracing absurdity becomes clear from aphorism No. 16 [K-ZAB, p. 16]: “A cage went to find a bird”.

 

         IX

 

Having covered Kafka’s writings, it remains essential to consider his standing. The statement that Kafka was one of the greatest novelists of the 20^th century is unsupportable. Two of his novels – Amerika and The Castle – remained incomplete. Whilst The Trial was virtually complete – and is a fine book –   it does not constitute Kafka a celebrated novelist. Further, Kafka was active during the second (and the beginning of the third) decade of this period. He did not live to see the Great Depression, WWII and the sociological and technological revolutions that took place thereafter. It is strongly arguable that he dealt mainly with the social conditions prevailing before the end of WWI.

Kafka’s strength is in his short stories and novellas. The Metamorphosis is an outstanding novella and secures Kafka’s position as a significant writer. This and The Trial are masterpieces and constitute his finest contributions to literature. In both of them – as well as in most of his short pieces – he opens a window which enables readers to have a glimpse of his inner life. In this regard, his writings are unique. Their influence on later writers like Jean Paul Sartre and Albert Camus are well known.

Earlier on it has been shown that Kafka was neither a convinced Jew nor a Zionist.  Can Kafka, nevertheless, be regarded as having contributed to Judaism or Jewish literature? The point is debatable and depends on definitions. In one view, three factors have to be taken into account when seeking to answer the question: the writer’s origin, the topic he discusses and the reading audience. In another view, the issue is to be determined solely on the basis of the topic dealt with in the oeuvre under assessment.

Some notable cases support the latter opinion. In many of his works, Arthur Schnitzler dealt with social issues which were of relevance in his days, such as sexual mores and ‘honour’. In Reigen (often referred to as La Ronde) he dealt with the former. In Liebelei, he discussed both class distinctions and ‘honour’ (which used to lead to duels and killings). Neither of these can be regarded a contribution to Judaism or Jewish culture, although Schnitzler was – and remained – Jewish. At the same time, in Professor Bernhardi and   Der Weg ins Freie Schnitzler discussed issues faced by assimilated Jews. So did his posthumously published My Youth in Vienna.[142] This leads to the conclusion that in some of his literary works Arthur Schnitzler influenced the understanding of assimilated Diaspora Jews.

Another significant case is Sigfried Sasson, a poet of semi-Jewish origin.[143] His poetry constitutes a contribution to the pacifist literature of the post WWI period and to English literature. It does not impact Judaism or to Jewish culture.

Erich Maria Remarque’s writings demonstrate that such influence would not necessarily depend on the writer’s origin. Whilst Remarque’s early novels, such as All Quiet on the Western Front and Three Comrades, are pacifist writings and bemoan the horrors of war, some of his later works, such as Flotsam, discuss the life of Jewish middle-class persons displaced during the holocaust. This constitutes a significant contribution to Jewish culture, although Remarque was not a Jew.

These illustrations support the view that, in determining impacts on Judaism, it is important to concentrate on the topic discussed in the work. The author’s origin is a secondary consideration. In some cases, Jewish authors made contributions to the culture of their Diaspora environment. In others, gentile authors have left a mark on Jewish culture.

Is the writer’s audience of importance? Most people read works recommended by authorities and by media outlets they respect. Here again, Remarque is of significant. He is widely read in Israel and by Jewish communities in the Diaspora. His being of gentile origin has not affected his popularity in such circles. Sigfried Sasson, on the other hand, is not widely read. The reason is simple: he is too difficult.

What then is the conclusion respecting Kafka? Did his work impact Judaism or Jewish culture? A careful examination suggests that it did not. Kafka’s writings deal with ordinary members of the middle-class regardless of their affiliation. There have been attempts to construe The Metamorphosis as dealing with a Jewish family. This suggestion is baseless. Gregor Samsa is a sui-generis person and the family dynamics covered in the novella have nothing to do with Judaism.

Some writers propose that some of Kafka’s short stories are allegorical or, in other word, discuss assimilated Jews. “Jackals and Arabs”, “A Report to an Academy” and “Josephine the Singer, or the Mouse Folk” have been cited in support. The answer to such chauvinistic and infantile arguments is simple. What would be the reaction of Jewish organisations if a gentile writer published a paper liking Jews to Jackals, Apes or Mice?

Kafka’s contribution is to the world’s literature as a whole. His style and metaphors are distinct and readers can share his insights into human nature. Further, as German was his sole medium of literary expression, he is also to be seen as a contributor to German culture.  

Should Kafka’s oeuvre be treated as recommended reading? To answer this question, it is necessary to divide potential readers into four groups. The first comprises potential experts and students who would like to immerse themselves in a literary corpus so as to advance their career. For them Kafka is God sent. The ambiguity of Kafka’s writings and the controversies respecting it mean that a suitable topic for a doctorate or a seminal and original essay can usually be detected.

This recommendation is, however, subject to a number of caveats. To start with such an aspirant ought to study the available learned corpus. In particular, Reiner Stach’s three volume biography should be consulted. All in all, such a process can take up to two or perhaps even three months. This, however, is time well spent. It would be unwise to embark on a study only to discover in its midst that the field has been exhausted.

Another important caution concerns language. A person who wishes to study Kafka’s oeuvre ought to be able to read the author’s originals. To this end, he should have a command of German. Further, he ought to secure access to documents. Kafka’s handwriting is clear and readable and some of his works (such as letters) were produced on a typewriter. Reading them is easy. Regrettably, Kafka’s manuscripts are scattered in libraries around the world. A Kafka student must be prepared to travel.

Another warning concerns analysis. Many scholars are inclined to embark on a psychanalytical investigation of an author’s personality. Would-be-experts ought to remember that psychoanalysis has developed into a discipline. Unless a person has the relevant qualifications, he better avoid speculations based on it.[144] A hair-raising ‘discovery’ is the suggestion that a wound in a patient’s side is symbolic of a vagina. This starling assertion has led to a speculation as to whether Kafka was bi-sexual. Idle discussions of this type are, it is believed, to be avoided.

Finally, any person seeking to discuss Kafka’s works must familiarise himself with the period in which the author was active. In other words, he has to study the early decades of the 20^th century. If he fails to so, he may miss sarcastic or topical points made by Kafka.

The second group – to which I belong – comprises persons who love books   and read literary works in order to gain insights and satisfy intellectual curiosity. Some members of this group may decide to avoid reading Kafka because they are not interested in the relevant period. Further, they may dislike Kafka’s sarcasm, black humour and pessimistic outlook.

My advice to them would be to give a try to The Trial and The Metamorphosis. If these tomes are not to their liking, their best course is to avoid reading Kafka’s other works. If they decide to persevere, they ought to acquire a collection of his writings. The available works are set out in the Appendix.

Personally, I enjoyed “A Report to an Academy” [K-EST, pp. 195 et seq.]; “A Common Confusion” [ibid., pp. 396-7], “Poseidon” [ibid., pp. 401-2] and “The Truth about Sanscho Panza” [ibid., p. 397]. The choice, though, is individual. Other readers may prefer different pieces.

The third group encompasses those who read mainly for entertainment or in order to experience a thrill. Admittedly, the boundary between the last two groups is elusive. Some individuals may have a foot in each camp. For those who fall fairly and squarely into this third group, my advice is straightforward: avoid Kafka. A good ‘who’s done it’ is likely to be more satisfying. I must confess that I have really enjoyed novels of Agatha Christie and Raymond Chandler, although I am aware that characters like Hercule Poirot and Philip Marlow are larger than life.

Finally, there is a substantial group of people – male and female, middle-aged and old – who suffer from chronic insomnia. I strongly recommend that they read The Castle (including passages struck out by Kafka) or “Description of a Struggle” [K-EST, pp. 253 et seq.] whilst seeking to fall asleep. This proposed therapy is likely to be more effective (as well as cheaper and less addictive) than pills prescribed by the doctor.

 

Peter Ellinger, M.Jur., D.Phil.,

Emeritus Professor, N.U.S.

 

 

A P P E N D I X

ABBREVIATIONS

 

K-CN              Kafka’s Complete Novels (Muir translation)

                        Franz Kafka (W. & E. Muir, Trs.) The Complete Novels (Penguin, UK, 2019)

K-DE               Kafka’s Diaries (Max Brod Ed.)

                        Franz Kafka (Max Brood, Ed.) Diaries, 1910-1923 (Schocken, N.Y., 1976)

K-DEB            Kafka’s Diaries (Ross Benjamin Ed.)

                        Franz Kafka (Ross Benjamin, Trs.) The Diaries (Schocken, N.Y., 2022)

K-DG              Kafka’s Tagebücher

                        Franz Kafka Tagebücher 1910-1923 (German, Amazon, no date)

 K-EST            Kafka’s Collected Short Stories

                        Franz Kafka (W. & E. Muir, Trs.) Collected Stories (Knopf, U.K., 1993)

K-GW             Kafka’s Gesammelte Werke

                        Franz Kafka Gesammelte Werke (Anaconda, Cologne, Germany, 2012)

 K-LF              Letters to Felice

                        Franz Kafka (E. Heller & J. Born, Ed.) Letters to Felice (Schocken, N.Y., 2016)

K-LFR             Letters to Friends

Franz Kafka (R. & C. Winston, Trs.) Letters to Friends, Family & Editors (Schocken, N.Y., 2016)

K-LM              Letters to Milena

                        Franz Kafka (P. Boehm, Trs.) Letters to Milena (Schocken, N.Y., 2015)

K-LW              Kafka’s Lost Writings

Franz Kafka (R. Stach, Ed; M. Hofmann, Trs.) The Lost Writings (New Direction, N.Y., 2020)

K-MBB           Max Brod’s Kafka Biography

                        Max Brod Franz Kafka: A Biography (Da Capo, U.S., 1995)

K-MTS            Metamorphosis and other Stories

Franz Kafka (M. Hoffman, Trs.) Metamorphosis and Other Stories (Penguin,

U.K., 2008)

K-NB              Kafka’s Blue Octavo Notebooks

Franz Kafka (Max Brod, Ed.; E. Kaiser & E. Wilkins, Trs.) The Blue Octavo Notebooks (Exact Change, Cambridge, 1991)

K-RB               Ritchie Robertson’s Kafka Biography

R. Robertson Kafka: Judaism, Politics & Literature (Clarendon, OUP, 2001)

 

K-RSFJ           Reiner Stach’s Kafka Biography, vol. 1

                        R. Stach Kafka: die frühen Jahre (Frankfurt a.m., 2016)

K-RSJE           Reiner Stach’s Kafka Biography, vol. 2

                        R. Stach, Kafka: die Jahre der Entscheidungen (Frankfurt a.m., 2023)

K-RSJL           Reiner Stach’s Kafka Biography, vol. 3

                        R. Stach: die Jahre der Erkenntnis (Frankfurt a.m., 2023)

K-TT               Reiner Stach’s: Kafka von Tag zu Tag

                        R. Stach: Kafka von Tag zu Tag (Fischer, Frankfurt a.m., 2024)

K-ZAB            Kafka’s Aphorisms

                        Franz Kafka (H. Colyer, Trs.): Zürau Aphorisms (Lulu, North Carolina, 2021)

K-99                Reiner Stach: Is that Kafka?

                        R. Stach (K. Beals, Trs.): Is that Kafka? 99 Finds (New Directions, N.Y., 2012)

 

  

 

 

 

 

             

 

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

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[1] Of biographies the following are recommended: M. Brod, Franz Kafka – A Biography (Da Capo Press, U.S., 1995; cited as K-MBB); R. Robertson, Kafka – Judaism, Politics, and Literature (OUP, 1985; cited as K-RB); R. Stach, Die Kafka Biography in drei Bänden (Fischer Tagebuch,  Frankfurt a.m., 2023) (these include: i.: Die Frühen Jahre: K-RSFJ; ii. Die Jahre der Entscheidungen :K-RSJE; iii. Die Jahre der Erkentnis: K-RSL); R. Stach, Is that Kafka? 99 Finds (Fischer Verlag, Germany, 2012; in English: New Direction Books, New York, 2016; cited as K-99).  Kafka’s daily engagements are noted in R. Stach’s excellent, Kafka von Tag zu Tag (Fischer Taschenbuch, Frankfurt a.m., 2024, cited as K-TT).

[2] All references are based on Franz Kafka, Gesammelte Werke, (Anaconda, Cologne, 2013; to be cited as K-GW); citations in English are from Kafka’s Collected Stories, translated by W. and E. Muir and edited by G. Josipovici (Knopf’s Everyman’s Library, London & New York, 1971; cited as K-EST). Some lost writings were published by R. Stach, Franz Kafka, The Lost Writings (A New Direction Paperbook, New York, 2020; cited as K-LW).

[3] F. Kafka, Diaries 1910-1923, (Edited by M. Brod, Schocken, New York, 1975; cited as K-DE); Franz Kafka, Tagebücher 1910-1923 (details not given in copy; cited as K-DG).

[4] The exception is the new diary  translation by Ross Benjamin (Schocken Books, New York, 2024)  [cited as: K-KEB] which follows the order of the notebooks.

[5] For photographs of Kafka’s Prague, see Jiřί Gruša (E. Mosbacher, Trs.), Franz Kafka of Prague (Schocken, N.Y., 1983).

[6] The negative aspect of this urbanization trend amongst Jews is noted by Kafka: K-DEB, p. 193.

[7] Gesammelte Werke von Arthur Schnitzler (Fischer Verlag, Berlin, 1922, vol. 3; reprinted by Forgotten Books): In English: The Way to Freedom. Kafka saw a performance of a play based on this book on 19 November, 1911: K-DG, at p. 123 {Prior to Adolf Hitler’s rise, anti-Semitism in Austria was generally non-violent: S. Zweig, Die Welt von Gestern (Fischer Verlag, Frankfurt, 1944), pp. 83-85.}   

[8] Jud Süβ Oppenheimer was a Jewish merchant, who rose high in the court of Duke Karl Alexander in Würtemberg in the 18^th century. The story of his rise and fall is told in Feuchtwanger’s book (originally published in 1916, current: Aufbau, Berlin, 1991).

[9] For antisemitic outburst when Kafka was 14 years old, see: K-RSFJ, 174-6; and note that on 7 July 1912, he was disturbed by the antisemitic remarks of playing children: K-TT, p. 162.             

[10] The Friedrich Wilhelm University of Prague (German Division). Excellent photographs of Kafka as a pupil and as student are to be found in K. Hagenbach, Kafkas Prage (SVLTO,  Berlin, 2002), pp. 25 and 26 respectively. Kafka’s studied Czech, as an optional subject, in primary: K-TT, p. 32.

[11] Kafka doubted his linguistic capacity: K-DEB, p. 266

[12] But in a letter to Max Brod, of April 1921 [K-TT, p. 490], Kafka expressed doubts about his own maturity.

[13] But see his diary entries of 24 October 1911 (K-DE, p. 88), 5 December, 1913 (K-EDB, pp. 318, 319), and of 30  January 1922 (K-DE, p. 410) which raise doubts; and see K-TT, p. 236 referring to a diary entry of 15 August, 1913, suggesting misunderstandings with her.

[14] A diary entry of  28 November 1911 reads: “I speak fluent Czech” [K-DE, at p. 127].

[15] Such as Dr. Soukup’s lecture: diary entry of 2 June 1913, K-DE, p. 203 and earlier a political meeting in March 1910: K-TT, p. 100.  For a detailed analysis of Kafka’s involvement with Czech culture, see A. Jamison, Kafka’s Other Prague (Evanston, Illinois, 2018). Kafka realised the importance of a small nation’s memory: K-DE, p. 149 (meaning Czechoslovakia; see K-TT, p. 146).

[16] Diary entry of 19  May, 1910: K-D4, p. 15.

[17] Diary entry of 12 November 1914: K-DB p. 317; K-DG, p. 337.

[18] K-GW 459 et seq.  It was composed in November 1919, K-LFR, p. 466 (n. 19).

[19] One of the pieces he started writing was “Description of a Struggle”, discussed subsequently.

[20] See his comment respecting a Brahms evening he attended on 11 December 1911,: K-DEB, p. 150.

[21] One of Kafka’s acquaintances was the artist Alfred Kubin; see entries of 26 September 1911, K-DE, p. 55 and of 12 June 1914, ibid., p. 289.

[22] A. Richter, Franz Kafka – Die Zeichnungen, (C.H. Beck Verlag, Munich, 2d Ed. 2022).

[23] E.g. a caricature of his close friend, Max Brod, ibid., p. 250.

[24] See, e.g. the scribbles added to his letter to Felice Bauer of 11/12 February, 1913, ibid., p. 239.

[25] Later on, in 1911, he attended Czech theatres: K-TT, p. 144.

[26] Kafka realised that he was unable to make a living from writing, see K-DE, p. 49.

[27] For a vivid description of his work, see K-RSFJ, p. 359. Together with Max Brod, Kafka saw a Yiddish theatre performance in Café Savoy on 4 May 1910: K-TT, p. 103. And on 27 October, 1911, he saw there the performance of a play entitled Kol Nidre.

[28] He discussed the liability issue in a newspaper article, published on 4 November, 1911: K-TT, pp. 131, 138. See also his short story, “New Lamps” [K-EST, pp. 390-1], which suggests that he often acted as spokesman when requests for innovation were made by the employees.

[29] For an English translation, see Franz Kafka (M. Hofman, Trs.), Metamorphosis and other Stories (Penguin, UK, 2007), pp. 287 et seq. [cited as K-MTS].

[30] Where he fell in love with daughter of the warden of the Goethe House: K-TT, p. 161.

[31] During the period, he saw Löwy almost daily: K-DG, p. 155. Kafka’s interest in the Yiddish Theatre might have been due to his infatuation with an  actresses (Mrs. Tschissik): entry of 2 November 1911, K-DE, p. 106 [noted: K-TT, pp. 136, 138]; and see Isaac Bashevis Singer, A Friend of Kafka (New York, 2022); and diary entry of 19 December 1911, K-DEB, p. 154.

[32] Diary entry of 2 November 1911, K-DE, p. 103. And see V. Liska, When Kafka Says We (Indiana U.P., U.S., 2009), pp. 26 et seq.

[33] And see his detailed discussion of the Jewish theatre: K-NB, pp. 80 et. seq. In a diary entry of 17 December, 1915 [K-TT, p. 315] he observes that these, and visits to the synagogue, did not affect his writing.

[34] See, Arthur Rose, “Recovering Franz Kafka’s Asbestos Factory” (2022, New Literary History, Vol. 53 No. 1, pp. 59-84.)

[35] Entries of 14 and 28 December 1911 [K-ED, p. 137, 155, K-DEB, p. 368]; his family urged him to show interest: [K-TT, p. 173].

[36] Having a negative effect on his health: diary entry of 21 November 1911, [K-ED, p. 125].

[37] Max Brod (Ed.), Kafka: The Blue Octavo Notebooks (Exact Change, Cambridge; 1991; cited as K-NB). These notebooks were kept separate from Kafka’s diaries.

[38] H. Colyer (Ed. & Trs.), Franz Kafka: Zürau Aphorism (Middletwon, DE; 2024;  cited as K-ZAP).

[39] These are voluminous. They cover (i) E. Heller and J. Born (Eds.), Letters to Felice (Schocken Books, New York, 2016;  cited as K-LF); (ii) P. Boehm (Trs.), Franz Kafka: Letters to Milena (Schocken Books, New York, 2015; cited as K-LM); and (iii) R. & C Winston (Trs.),  Franz Kafka: Letters to Friends, Family and Editors (Schocken Books, New York, 2016; cited as K-LFR).

[40] Entry of 15 August 1912 [K-DB, p. 206]. And see diary entry of 17 December 1910 [K-DEB, p.67].

[41] He was a good listener, avoiding unnecessary contention: diary entry of 22 October, 1913 [K-DE, p. 235].

[42] The same is noted in his writings. See, in particular, his short story Zum Nachdenken für Herrenreiter: K-GW, at p. 25; K-EST, pp. 18-19.

[43] Later a professor at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

[44] His opus magnum is The Song of Bernadette.  His best known novel, The Forty Days on the Mussa Dag, deals with the massacre of the Armenians by the Young Turks. Kafka disliked and envied him: diary entry of 18 December, 1911 [K-DE, p. 141].

[45] In 1903, Kafka was introduced to this circle by Oskar Pollack; they often met in Caf  Louvre: K-TT, p. 53.

[46] Letters to a Viennese girl (written during 1907 to 1909; K-LF 27-52) whom Kafka met when she came over to meet her family in Triesch, indicate that they were never engaged; and see his diary entry of 12 January 2014, indicating that he noticed keenly good looking waitresses in cafés: K-DE, p. 252; and see his diary entries of 10 April, 1922, K-DE, p. 413 and of July 1916, K-DEB, p. 421 (talking about early experiences); see also K-TT, p. 64, indicating that Kafka had an affair as early as 1905.

[47] Die Abweisung, probably written in 1908 [K-GW, at p. 25]. And see his observations about women’s education and emancipation: K-DEB, p.143 (entry undated but probably from December 1911).

[48] See diary entry of 2 October 1911 [K-DEB, p. 27]. His first experience (with a sales girl) was probably in July 1903: K-TT, p. 55; as from July 1907 he had a lengthy affair with Hedwig Weiler: K-TT, p. 73, 74.

[49] See S. Friedländer, Franz Kafka (Beck, Munich, 2012), pp. 109 et seq. [The English version is: – Franz Kafka - Poet of Shame and Guilt (Yale U.P., 2012)]; the author also discusses the issue of bi-sexuality. In a diary entry of 14 August, 1913, Kafka  says: “Coitus as punishment of the happiness of being together” [K-DEB, p. 301].

[50] See, e.g., his diary entries of 8 October 1911 [K-DE, p. 72]; and of  11 April 1922, [K-DEB, p. 489].

[51] And see his letter to Milena, of 8/9 August 1920 [K-LM, at p. 151], in which he describes his first sexual experience (with a salesgirl) and suggests that sex and lust are “disgusting”.

[52] My own translation of “Der Kaufmann”. Cf. K-GW, p. 20 and the standard rendering: K-EST, 12-13. A similar message emerges from Blumfeld, an Elderly Bachelor [K-EST, 342; see also diary entries of 14 November 1911, K-DE, p. 117, and of 27 December, 1911, K-DE, p. 155].  In an entry of 9 October, 1913, he wrote that, if he ever reached the age of forty, he would marry an ‘old maid’: K-TT, p. 134.

[53] In a chat with Milena, on 8  or 9 August, 1920, he suggested that sex and passion were  ‘unclean’: [K-TT, p. 467].

[54] For doubts respecting his love for Felice, see diary entry of 24 January, 1915 [K-DE, p. 328].

[55] Felice’s father expressed his agreement to the match on 27 August, 1913: K-TT, p. 238.

[56] Kafka’s love of Felice has been questioned: S. Friedländer, op. cit., ante n. 49, pp. 109 et seq. Kafka’s doubts are already reflected in a diary entries of 13 August, 1913 [K-DEB, pp. 300-1], of 15 October 1914 [K-DE, p. 314], and of 24 January 1915 [K-DE, 329]; and see letter to max Brod of 12-16 July, 1916 [K-LFR, p. 117].

[57] An entry of 13 August 1913,[K-DE, p. 227], indicates that Kafka suffered badly when the engagement was in jeopardy. But note that, when one of Felice’s girlfriends tried to help patch up, Kafka saw her home and might have had an encounter with her: K-DE, p. 239; K-DG, p. 309. As to his reaction when the engagement  was terminated, see diary entry of 23 July, 1914 [K-DEB, p. 346 and K-DE, p. 293-4]. Still, in a letter of 18 January, 1916 [K-TT, p. 322], he told her that he intended to move after the end of WWI to Berlin

[58] In July 1916; see his letter to Max Brod of 12-14 July 1916: K-LF, 116-7. His parents even found a suitable flat: diary entry of 6 May 1914 [K-DE, p. 267]. But Kafka continued to have misgivings: diary entry of 6 July 1916 [K-DEB, p. 419].

[59] Kafka took her departure hard: K-NB, p. 34.

[60] On 5 September, 1917, he asked Max Brod not to mention the diagnosis to the parents: K-TT, p. 375.

[61] See Kafka’s letter to Julie’s sister of 24 November 1919 [K-LF, pp. 215-220 (highly apologetic)]; as regards his only letter to Julie, see K-99, p. 69.

[62] The tone of their friendship is manifest by Kafka’s form of address. In the early letters he addresses her formally (as ‘Sie’). Later on, he switches to informality (addressing her as ‘Du’) and later still reverts to formality. Milena kept Kafka’s letters. 

[63] Diary Entry of 15 October 1921 [K-DE, p. 392]. See also diary entry of 1 December 1921 [K-DE, 397, indicating that Milena visited him during his period of illness]. And dee her obituary: K-99, p. 279

[64] She told him of her decision on 4 July, 1920 [K-TT, p. 456].

[65] Dora kept a diary, in which she related the story of Kafka comforting a little girl who had lost her doll.  The anecdote has not be verified; see K-99, pp. 193-4.

[66] It has been suggested that Kafka may have been a suppressed homosexual: James Hawes, Excavating Kafka (London, 2010); S. Friedländer, op. cit. n. 49 ante, Chap. 4. The point is dubious.

[67] In August, 1907; see his diary entry of 15 September, 1907 [K-DEB, p. 441 and n. 1025].

[68] He moved to the farm on 15 September, 1917: K-TT, p. 377.

[69] Max Brod’s writings, especially Reubeni, display a deep interest in and a commitment to  Judaism.

[70] Kafka was pleased with it and read it out to his parents: diary entry of 24 May, 1913 [K-ED, p. 221].

[71] An entry of 19 January 1914 [K-DE, p. 253] suggests that Kafka had misgiving about the ending.

[72] My initial reading of his works took place during my youth in Tel Aviv, where translations of his works into Hebrew were abundant. My appreciation of the corpus increased when I obtained his originals. 

[73] Kafka published its first chapter as a short story, entitled Der Heizer [The Stoker] in 1913.

[74] A diary entry of 11 March, 1912 affirms that Kafka “burned many old disgusting papers” [K-DEB, p. 209; K-TT, p. 154].

[75] Kafka was aware of the pogrom in Galicia of 1906: K-DEB, p. 409.

[76] As regards the trip he took in order to talk to two of them, see: K-TT, p. 135; K-DE, p. 78.

[77] See also K. Wagenbach, Kafkas Prag – Ein Reiselesebuch (Wagenbach, Berlin, 2022{?}), esp. p. 9.

[78] Kafka accompanied Max Brod to the synagogue on New Year Day in 1909: K-RT, p 95. His orientation did not change. However, he noted that in “the Pinkas Synagogue [in the old Jewish quarter of Prague] I was seized incomparably more powerfully by Judaism” [diary entry of 1 October, 1911: K-DEB, p. 24]. And see “In unser Synaggoge,” Franz Kafka, Die Erzählungen und andere ausgewähle Prosa (Fischer, Frankfurt a.m., 2024), pp. 370-3. But note that occasionally, he also attended church services: K-TT, 164. In a letter to Felice, of 11 October, 1916 [K-LF, p. 520] he mentions that he found the Jewish New Year festival meaningless.

[79] See his detailed discussion of Hasidim in his entry of 6 October 1915 [K-ED, pp. 348-9; K-DEB, p. 405]. Kafka also read Grätz’s history of the Jews: diary entry of 1 October 1911 [K-DEB, p. 109].

[80] And note that he attended lectures on the Mishna: K-DEB, p. 409.

[81] As from 12 July 1912, he read the Bible regularly: K-TT, p. 163; K-DEB, p. 398. On 16 November 1915 he refers to Book of Judges. He started learning Hebrew again in May 1917: K-TT, p. 365.

[82] And note that even in earlier years, he was not attracted to Judaism. As early as 1900, he quarrelled about the subject with Hugo Bergman, expressing atheistic views: K-TT, p. 43. For a different view see, Liska, op. cit. n. 32 ante, pp. 15 et seq. But see K-DEB, p. 172, indicating that Kafka had doubts about religion as a whole. And see his comment in a diary entry of 13 March, 1922, saying that a Purim celebration did not gave him a Jewish feeling: K-TT, p. 518.

[83] And see his diary entries for 22 October, 1913 [K-DE, 235]; and 16 September 1916 [K-DE, p. 343].

[84] Letter to Martin Buber of 29 November 1915 [K-LFR, p. 115; K-TT, p. 319].

[85] The influence of Dostoevsky’s Grand Inquisitor passage in The Brothers Karamazov is clear. And see Kafka’s discussion of the devil: K-DEB, p.223. For another reference to religion, see diary entry of 9 August, 1917 [K-DEB, p. 433]; on 14 July, 1912, he attended a church service: K-TT, p. 164.

[86] And note that he said: “Christ suffered for mankind, but mankind suffered for Christ”: February 1917 [K-NB, p. 49].

[87] He expressed disagreement with Bergman’s Zionist orientations as early as 1900: K-TT, p. 43 and 1902: ibid. p. 48. But note that when Kafka met Felice, he discussed a plan to visit Palestine: K-TT, p. 166.

[88] E.g. on 23 February 1912 [K-TT, p. 152; D-DEB, p. 198].

[89] K-RSFJ, pp. 288 et seq.

[90] But note that from time to time he attended synagogue services. See, e.g., K-TT, p. 133 and also church services: K-TT, p. 164. For his negative reaction to Zionism, see his letter to Grete Bloch of 11 June, 1914 [K-TT, p. 279].

[91] For a facsimile of Kafka’s letter to Pua in Hebrew, see K-99, at pp. 130-1.

[92] K-RSJL, pp. 533 et seq.

[93] It grieves me to mention that although poetry of Bialik and Tchernichovsky  was taught, our generation had to read works by Lea Porath, Nathan Alterman and Jonathan Ratosh privately.

[94] The main attainments are set out by Josipovici, in a fine chronology included in the English edition of Kafka’s Collected Stories [K-EST, pp. xlii et seq.]. 

[95] On 12 December, 1911, for instance, he attended a play by Gerhart Hauptmann: K-TT, p. 143.

[96] Kafka did not refer to the event in his diary. See K-TT, p. 281.

[97] Events not noted in Kafka’s diary: K-TT, p. 286.

[98] Note that Kafka had bemoaned Austria’s defeat in battles: diary entry of 13 September, 1914 [K-DE, p. 314].

[99] A reminder for Kafka were the antisemitic manifestations that took place in March 1918, before the end of WWI: K-TT, p. 408; and in November 1920 [ibid., p. 478]. Kafka had doubts about intellectuals preaching antisemitism without hatred: diary entry of 16 June, 1922 [K-DE, p. 421-2].

[100] He stopped working on it on 24 January, 1913: K-TT, p. 199.

[101] At one time Kafka considered the possibility of publishing it in a book entitled The Sons; letter to Kurt Wolf of 11 April, 1913 [K-LFR, p. 96].

[102] Kafka’s sketch of 19 April 1916, may be of Brunelda and Delamarche [K-DE, p. 354].

[103] And note that a sad ending was contemplated by Kafka; diary entry of 10 September 1915, cited post.

[104] As one of the short stories in the book, entitled A Country Doctor.  First published in an almanac issued by Selbstwehr (A Jewish periodical in Prague) on 15 December, 1916 and in January 1917 in a periodical in Berlin.

[105] In a new edition of the book, i.e., S. Lück’s translation of 2012, two extracts composed by Kafka are inserted between chapter 9 and the final one. The first is entitled “Journey  to His Mother” and the second “The House”. Both refer to characters appearing in the original publication but neither refers to the meeting with the chaplain. Max Brod’s composition of the manuscript is preferable.

[106] Chapter written on 1 September, 1914: K-TT, p. 290.

[107] First published in Selbstwehr (a Zionist periodical in Prague) on 7 September, 1915.

[108] Chapter written on 15 September, 1914: K-TT, p. 290.

[109] For a variant of this beginning, under which K’s arrival is anticipated, see K-GW, pp. 965-6. The current text was preferred by Max Brod.  As to  fragments not included in the current text, see ibid., pp. 967 et seq.

[110] Edwin Muir, one of the first translators of Kafka’s oeuvre, has compared The Castle to John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress: Franz Kafka, The Castle (Secker & Warburg, London, 1947), pp. 6 et seq.

[111] This story is not included in G-EST. It is published in F. Kafka (Glatzer, Ed.) The Complete Short Stories (Schocken, N.Y., 1971), pp. 263 et seq. (trs. by T. & J. Stern). And see “The Lamps” [K-EST, pp. 390-1], showing how petitions for the improvement of working conditions were handled by AUVA.

[112] Cited from Franz Kafka (trs. by the Muirs), The Complete Novels (Vintage Classics, Penguin, U.K., 2019;  cited as K-CN), p. 449

[113] See Kafka’s letter to Oskar Pollack of 6 December, 1903 [K-LFR, p. 8], referring to his aiming to send his friend a bundle with all his early writings for their destruction. And see K-TT, p. 113.

[114] Dedicated to Felice Bauer: K-TT, p. 188.

[115] He completed it on 6 December 1912 [K-TT, p. 186]; read out the final part to Max Brod on 1 March, 1913.

[116] First in a periodical and then in a book of the Kurt Wolff Verlag; see Franz Kafka (N.N. Glatzer, Ed.), The Complete Stories (Schocken Books, N.Y. 1971), p. 469.

[117] The phrase has been translated in different manner. Hoffman renders it as ‘monstrous cockroach’ [K-MTS, p. 87 (which conveys the meaning)].

[118] Like many of Kafka’s writing, the novella has given rise to many varying constructions. Max Brod, for instance, regarded it a religious text.

[119] And see one of his late sayings, which deals with family dynamics: K-ZAB, p. 169.

[120] The day on which he also wrote the Oklahoma Theatre chapter in Amerika.

[121] On 4 September, 1917, he asked Kurt Wolff to defer publication due to unease about the end: K-LFR, p. 136.

[122] The procedure is reminiscent of medieval punishment methods, such as burning the letter V (for Villain) onto a convict’s body.

[123] K-TT, p. 446. For details, see K-RSJI, pp. 189 et seq.

[124] K-TT, p. 360; originally it was published in a periodical in Berlin, ibid., p. 377.

[125] For an Alfred Kubin illustration respecting it, see Gregor-Dellin (Ed.), Das Wachsfigurenkabinett (Nymphenburger Verlag, Munich, 1974), esp. p. 9.

[126] Publication in Martin Buber’s periodical, led to attempts to construe the work as seeking to discuss Diaspora Secular Judaism. This analysis is not here supported. Notably, Franz Werfel lauded the story: K-TT, p. 395.  

[127] M. Hofmann in his introduction: K-MTS, p. vii.

[128] For the current publication, see Franz Kafka (based on Pasley, Ed.) Beschreibung eines Kampfes (Schoken, N.Y. & Frankfurt a.m., 1994). The introductory entry by Pasley explains departures from Brod’s edited text.

[129] Amongst them are: “The Student” [K-EST, pp. 323-4]; “The Angel” [ibid., pp. 324-326]; “Blumfeld, an Elderly Bachelor”  [ibid., pp. 342-365]

[130] In Berlin; a reprint appeared in 1948. The German title of the work – Beim Bau der Chinesischen Mauer – emphasizes the construction of the wall rather than the wall itself. 

[131] And see his aphorisms No. 16, [K-ZAB, p. 16]: “A cage went to find a bird”;  and No. 59 [ibid, p. 62], in which he says: “In its own eyes a stair not worn deep is just barren wood”.

[132] The piece is not included in K-GW; it was translated Martin Greenberg and Hannah Arendt; they also translated “The Angel” [K-EST, pp. 324-6], which tells us how the narrator imagined that, in the wake of a tremor, an angel visited him.

[133] First published in 1931 in Beim Bau Der Chinesischen Mauer.

[134] Investigations of a Dog [K-GW, pp. 386 et seq.; K-EST, pp. 420 et seq.] is a rambling tale by a dog, who has attained human consciousness, about the misuse of animals by circus performers. Kafka wrote the piece in September of October 1922, after abandoning work on The Castle [K-TT, p. 533].

[135] Note that the story by that name has been discussed.

[136] Howard Colyer, ante n. 38, n. 1, points out that at some point after writing his aphorisms, Kafka re-read them and put a line threw a number of them, including the one cited. It is possible that Kafka meant to revise these.

[137] But note his reflections about the feasibility of another world: diary entry of 30 January, 1922: K-TT, p. 513.

[138] But note a different view is expressed in his letter to Felice of 15 February, 1913 [K-LF, 198; K-TT, p. 205].

[139] In Meditation [K-EST, p. 5].

[140] As regards Kafka’s abhorrence of noise, see “The Silence of the Sirens” [K-EST, pp. 398-9] and “Grosser Lärm” [K-GW, p. 227], initially published in October 1912 in Herderblätter, a Jewish periodical in Prague.

[141] The significance of these telling words has been overlooked by many commentators. Our thanks are due to Howard Colyer for giving publicity to these late aphorisms.

[142] Published posthumously by his son, Heinrich Schnitzler. Translated into English by Catherine Hutter.

[143] Siegfried Sassoon’s father married out. Sassoon converted to Roman Catholicism in 1957.

[144] Kafka’s aphorism No. 93 avers: “Psychology never more!” [K-ZAB, p. 95]. This is a stern warning in point.