Let me pull up a chair, if you are offering, I'll have a beer, no, well water will be fine, from the tap, oh a bottle, perhaps you could spare me a slice of lemon then ?

I had an idea to re-read the trial both in translation and the original and then write a double review, contrasting the two and seeing if subtly or substantively Kafka's story became somebody else's in the course of crossing the linguistic border. The first time I read it in German it was a revelation, as turning to the original often is, and perhaps I had a clingy and foolish desire to repeat that experience, but you can't cross the same river twice. As it happened, man proposes, God disposes and all that, the library only had it in the original - this among other books led me to wander about the choice and selection of the library stock. I noticed that I seem to have a sub-conscious list of 'great books' that I feel it encumbent on every library to hold, but never mind.

Having reread, I am struck over all by it's profound oddness, perhaps it's ultimate greatness, if I may be so bold, is as a masterpiece of the absurd  but for the rest of the 20th century, perhaps we would read Kafka's novels as comedies: man alone in the modern world wrapping up early 20th century concerns, social change, psychology and the unconscious, faith and fable, mysticism and conventional religion, life as a quest, life as a trial, democracy and power into one bizarre bundle. It seems more closely related to all Kafka's other work and I felt that it and The Castle were both attempts at the same story, or the same variety of seed in different soil or related seeds in the same soil, as the colour of a hydrangea's flower is determined by the acidity of the soil. In the same way K. is faced by an inexplicable organisation which might be the Kingdom of God, or human conscious, or a potential police state, or all of them together, or something else. He journeys, aided or hindered by various female persons who are also attractive to the mysterious organisation. A hint perhaps in their behaviour of childhood sexual abuse? Sudden bursts of detail, the body language of people in a room , the arrangement of items on a desk, time and weather, alternate with vagueness and the uneasy knowledge that the narrator withholds knowledge - exemplified in that it is clear that many people know that K. has been accused but the charges are never stated or even suggested.

In the end Kafka's novels are complete, only because they are incomplete. His wish to have them destroyed a touch of Virgilian brilliance. The fragmentary nature of the books obliges the reader to insert themselves into the narrative and to create meaning. K. is Kafka, K. is not Kafka, K. is the reader, K. is not the reader.

I had been used to the idea that Kafka was a prophet of bureaucratised state control and domination of the individual - rather like the Orson Welles film version, but of a sudden when I first turned to the original, here was a book that was dripping with sexual tension.

It seemed then to make more sense to see this novel as arising out of Kafka's on and off relationship with Felice Bauer and their friends reactions to this and their judgement of him. For example see here, even if not Felice but Milena.

The intensity of the atmosphere that Kafka evokes is striking - but at the same time the work as it comes down to us, is to an unknown extent, the result of Max Brod's editorial hand.

Some pondering notes:
so deeply odd
Felice Bauer
relationship with the father
repetition of theme of being trapped - see above
bureaucratised state ? - Austrian
the corporation as pure embodiment of bureaucracy - not democratic, autocratic and obscure
plus Kafka as lawyer in an insurance company - again bureaucracy, proofs, obscure
acceptance of guilt
Judaism and nationalities as shadow states ie only organisation, in parallel to Austria but in the background
violence and oppression - particularly sexual
story opens on K's birthday - he turns 30 - mystical significance ?, age of majority under code Napoleon - is this about becoming an adult?, particularly with regard to his ultimate death on the eve of his 31st birthday...Ministry of Christ, parodic?
link to the castle - the mysterious organisation physically manifest - the approach to the castle apparently a physical journey (in theory) in practise apparently not, here it is integrated in to the geography of the city but similarly all pervasive and influential but also unknown to K. is his arrest caused by his ignorance?
Vor dem Gesetz retold as parable by the Chaplin pp181-183 with commentary and discussion
this court is new - not widely known to the public so therefore not kabalistic?
Geography- reversal of power - rise of social democracy? travelling out to the suburbs, poor parts of town for his hearing , for the painter - this is a structured society that even those inside of it can't perceive or know the whole of it - it has regulations and a growing authority that more and more people are aware of
parody of Papal audience - pp163-4 with the Lawyer as Pope, offering absolution, but a false pope, he does not have the keys to the kingdom of Heaven, the businessman Block though remains his true son, faithful.

I vividly remember asking my mother at quite earlier in my years, from where do we get babies, did you buy me from god? The corners of her eyes crinkled, she was reddened deep in effort to try not to burst in her husky laughter, I remember her asking me back with her flushed face, and what do you be doing with answer? I said quite prudently and emphatically, I want to have some. I don’t know where the tail of this baby-talk ended, but I didn’t manage to have any, to this date, albeit being conversant of the source. And the core of Kafka’s trial lays in this state of unknowingness whetted by the utter frustration to know. Joseph K is not so much mad at being held house arrested, he merely is surprised by the two agents seeming in his apartment at the first ray of sun, he is little bothered at the mention of ‘trial’. All his focus is on keep claiming himself ‘innocent’, this insistence is of no use as the priest says: "But that is how the guilty speak"
So, to claim himself innocent is a proof enough of his guilt, then where he stands in the case? He is at defeat at the very start, as never will he see his accusers nor will come to learn what he is accused of, and ironically, he never stands at a trial, there simply isn’t any, Joseph is trapped in faceless fate that strikes him from behind the dark, he has no Judge in view who judges him, and on what basis, no court to plea, and evidently no Laws to speak of (or prudent lawyers for that matter) I’d cease myself belittling the focus of it’s existential angst and absurdity of life by tagging it an “allegory to original sin “The Trial speaks of and about, every single being entombed in the totalitarian coop of so-called convictions and their representative faceless deities, Story and characterization are not the meat here, Kafka can be pardoned on that account, as the plot droll you at times as their aren’t any active actions ,painstaking effort’s made on tiniest of details, to make the impression vibrant, but the picture as a whole is hopelessly blurred; thus even the reader is left frustrated, and each of us will be prone to understand this trial as per our own perception.
And as for Joseph, he was ignorant of the parable narrated by priest, gullible enough to entertain hope and naïve enough to prostrate before a faceless savior, as he lays dying “like a dog” and we don’t sense any empathy, we simply condemn him for his belief in law, and his pointless life led into a horrendous death in pursuit of salvation, as there’s nothing beyond death!

Der Prozeß ist für mich das schwierigste Buch Kafkas, da es in Bezug auf seine Handlung noch surrealer, abstruser und kafkaesker ist, als die anderen von ihm hinterlassenen Romanfragmente. Es war mein erstes Buch, das ich von Kafka zu Schulzeiten gelesen hatte. Im Grunde ist es dankbare Schullektüre, denn die Interpretationsmöglichkeiten sind vielfältig. Und da Kafka außer der Aussage, das er das Manuskript selbst als missraten ansah, keine eigene Interpretation des Textes hinterlassen hatte, gibt es kein richtig oder falsch bei der Textanalyse. Was das Ganze daher auch wieder spannend macht.

Wie auch beim Schloss hatte ich den Prozess unter der Rubrik „Der verlassene Mensch im Labyrinth der Moderne“ abgelegt. Das nochmalige Lesen von Das Schloss im vergangenen Jahr änderte auch nichts an dieser Eingruppierung. Aber beim Prozess las ich diesmal ganz andere Aspekte heraus, was wohl auch daran lag, dass ich den ersten Teil der Kafka-Biografie von Reiner Stach kürzlich gelesen hatte und mir nun die zerrissene, ängstliche Person des Franz Kafka näher ist. Seine Kritik an der ihm oft sinnlos erscheinenden Tätigkeit als Versicherungsjurist drängt sich im Prozess einem desöfteren auf, wenn Josef K die Absurdität des Gerichts und der Verhandlung klar wird.

Diesmal las ich durch das Wissen um Kafkas zwiespältige Beziehung zur Religion auch viel mehr heraus, dass das Gericht eine Art Gottesgericht sein könnte und der Prozess wegen des unstetigen Lebens des Josef K geführt wird. Egal welche Interpretation Kafka im Kopf gehabt hatte, ist der Text in seiner nüchternen Vortragsweise über eine Situation, die man nur aus seinen eigenen Albträumen kennt, einfach faszinierend. Und wenn ich das Buch irgendwann einmal zum dritten Mal lesen werde, werden mir bestimmt wieder ganze neue Aspekte auffallen.

No file is ever lost; the court never forgets.

The word Kafkaesque sends an eerie feeling across your spine on the haunting thought of delving into world of Franz Kafka, the unexpected and unusual expectations make your heart throb with excitement and anxiousness on speculating the vast range of possibilities which might come across your way. We know that freedom lies at the center of our existence, for we long for free will and therefore to make choices in our lives. The nihilistic attitude towards life tells us that life is inherently meaningless and absurd, however, we must accept the inherent condition of life and become absolutely free to define purpose of our life and thereby take responsibility to live according to it. However, what would happen if the oppressing force of bureaucracy robs us off our freedom, our free will as if our very freedom is restricted by social machinery of bureaucracy which may attribute the feeling of futility and nothingness to our consciousness. It may appear to be a bleak and dark world but that’s the world of Kafka, The Trial.


The world of Joseph K., the protagonist is an epitome of disarray and disorder, for he is arrested one morning without having done anything wrong, the opening is not quite explosive per se it surreptitiously gets under your skin and mysterious anxiety wraps your soul. Contractions go hand in hand in the world of K., for on the one hand it sounds logical that proceedings in the case must be thorough in every respect yet should not last too long due to the strain they put on human souls.




link: source


The judicial system of the world of K. is so domineering in its presence that the very thought of it may put our souls under an unbearable heaviness. The entire legal machinery is so well organized that each and every cog of it works in unison, and of course, the corruption (which stems from anomalies of human nature) keeps it well-oiled and functioning like a single organism. A chilling thought suddenly rises from the obscurity and stares into your eyes-a shudder runs through your heart to realize that it may be your own world, your own life. How could one stand a chance against such a formidable and threatening system in which the rules and principles may give away to whims and fancies of the people it comprises of, to fulfill the single agenda to keep order in the society through using the elements of fear, dominance, and uncertainty.


At times we may fuel our hearts with enthusiasm through petty revolts we do (or at least we feel so, however delusion it may be) against the system but the gigantic organism of system or bureaucracy whips the string of control, just as any puppeteer does to his puppets, to overthrow the any momentarily comforts we might be enjoying. Such a profound institution or system raises itself from the dungeons of mundanity to the divine and dizzying heights of supremacy mirroring a god in-itself. However, it is strange and hard to comprehend that god may behave in such a diabolical and fiendish manner having its origins in concealed but unrivalled cruelty. A bizarre and weird nausea catches hold of our souls to realize and accept that how could our (un)kind god showers hellish fire on us, perhaps we all are guilty in conscience, as we have been told time and again by all the great religions and dogmas of the world.





link: source



The existential angst and anxiousness having roots in the incomprehensible realization, of living in a strange world, fill our soul with existential nausea (as proposed by Sartre) on encountering the absurd and nihilistic world which may be severely punitive. When we delve deeper into our conscience, we find that it stems from the nihilistic nature of the universe, our lives are absurd in the sense that we always look for the grand meaning only to find none and this profound realization is accepting the absurdity of life. The life may be illogical, irrational, and brutal against which we may try to exist amidst its deepest melancholy but the unfounded and arbitrary world of ours cages our souls. The crushing and nonsensical world of Joseph K. wherein he goes through a trial of unknown crime mirrors our own world, the unease one may feel having an impending trial of an unrevealed (even to the reader) crime does not provide any calming or soothing effect to our depressing souls. K. is torn between hope and despair, conviction and doubt, attraction and hesitation, uncertainty is a way of life for him as for his creator- Franz Kafka.


It is not necessary to accept everything as true, one must only accept it as necessary.


There is a soul stirring incident in the novel wherein K. asks a simple innocuous question from a fellow defendant, but it confuses the man and eerily forces him to surrender the superiority he gained over others as if his entire existence is shred into nothingness and even could not muster courage to withstand his existential ordeals. Further, the K. himself feels a strange weakness so much so that he is unable to stand properly, it appears to be too distressing himself to be put at the mercy of the people around him as if his entire existence gets crushed under their pity. These incidents reflect upon the feebleness of human character which starts shaking with terror on encountering the probing eyes of others (as Sartre used to maintain), it may also reflect the constant monitoring of people is being done through secret mechanisms and agencies. We always try to look at ourselves through the eyes of ‘others’ as if to please them for behaving in a certain way acceptable to them, it gives rise to ‘bad faith’ amongst humanity and therefore leading to inauthentic existence. Joseph K. is also supposed to act in a certain manner which may be pleasing to the grand legal machinery or bureaucratic system, it is intriguing to observe how does it behave – does he take an existentialist approach and thereby defines his life and take responsibility to live accordingly or take an absurdist approach and thereby accepting the life as it is or perhaps surrenders his feeble soul to the omnipotence of the system?



Joseph K. maintains a quite analytical approach throughout his life in a sense that he weighs very possibility and analyze it logically to get an impression of probable pros and cons, but he is a bit unsympathetic towards his landlady and neighbor, perhaps reflects his imperfections to be a human. However, his openness often works against him as we see in his relationship with Fraulein Burstner that the signs of his forgiveness (which indicates the basic human need to look for validation from others) are taken for granted and he is held responsible for everything in the relationship. It has been also noticed during his trial that this unwarranted openness often leads him to disadvantage. The Trial represents a dark and bleak satire on humanity wherein we try to remain sane by applying sense to the life, but the life remains immune to it and behaves in an absurd manner. It is shown to the reader through the soul stirring trial of Joseph K. that in an absurd reality, wherein you may be arrested for an unrevealed crime, the acquittal may actually be a farce since you may never get actually free as if there is no way to break free the legal system however the things are kept churning, time and again, to given the impression that it is not an impasse.





link: source


The Trial showcases the sheer hypocrisy of our life wherein we formulate grand narratives about our systems, our nations, our world which may fill our bosoms with inspiring enthusiasm and pride, while on the other side our they are inherently corrupt so that they fall upon the basic principles they are based. The novel portrays that no one in the legal system, not even the judges have final authority as if the legal system is a sacred organization in which nothing wrong can happen however, the judgements are never published there only legends are followed and passed on; besides, the judgement itself is mocked through bizarre proceedings and strange processes of acquittal. The corruption is prevalent in the legal system, but it is presented as a sophisticated irony. The (seemingly) sacredness and might of the legal system sends an eerie sense of formidability, for it is too powerful to be challenged by any human or institution so how could a feeble man stand against it, the system is so frightening that its own people often get affected of it and could outburst only muted cries which falls upon deaf ears. It perfectly portrays the hypocrisy of modern world wherein we conduct peace meetings over the corpses of wars, prosperity over the disturbing records of famines, empowerment over our embarrassing incidents of racism, casteism, gender biases and violences, child labor , the media trials and the social media upsurge, and the list goes on and on.



The world of Joseph K. is our own depressing world, perhaps it is our very world in which there is no sense as if it is completely irrational wherein there is no proof of anybody getting fully acquitted, just hearsay. The components of the judicial machinery also appear to mythical as our heroic figures in real life are, for their existence is hard to be comprehended by a normal feeble man, these divine figures of judiciary exist only in myths which is passed on generations to generations. To our utter dismay it is revealed that even religion and therefore God stands with the legal machinery as it is preached to K. by the priest who actually is a prison chaplain so the judgement of the judicial system is actually the ordeal of God one can’t deny.



The prose of the tale is written in a restrained manner with infusion of additional clauses at the end of sentences, perhaps to give a twisting impact. The prose appears to be fragmented as if there sections of the novel are left unfulfilled and never returned to, perhaps to mirror the real life as in our lifetime we leave so many ordeals unfulfilled. The narrative moves slowly perhaps mirrors the judicial proceedings as there is essentially no development there at all. The prose offers everything but confirms nothing and it is perhaps the story of gatekeeper preventing a man from entering the halls of law, the priest explains various possible interpretations of the story, only to cleverly subvert it in the favor of the gatekeeper which renders the life of the man worthless and reduces his existence to nothing. Jospeh K. maintains a calm attitude throughout his life which may reflect innocence (or at least it is being perceived so) and tries to understand his trial through logic but fails to accept that logic does not always prevail in life and gets transformed into hardened criminal on just attracting the investigation. It perfectly encapsulates our lives that no matter how logical and sensible we may be in our life, the irrationality of the life may checkmate us.


Franz Kafka once said that A book must be like an axe to the frozen sea within us and The Trial is perhaps such an axe which strikes deep into our souls to affect us profoundly as if we are looking at the shame of our own existence, it is surreal and nightmarish but perfectly encapsulates our reality. It makes you reflects deeply and probingly on your own life which is hallmark of a great literature. The Trial may not provide you all the grand and glorified answers we have been seeking since the dawn of humanity, but it raises some of most profound questions which help us to understand our existence better by making us look into our own abyss.






link: source



I am nothing but literature.

n  A Crazy Trainn
All Aboard!



No novel comes close to this one in the intensely nightmarish portrayal of the type of dark "justice" of dictatorial governments, particularly those that came to power after its 1925 publication.

THE TRIAL, also like no other, gives the reader a special, and by all means necessary, appreciation for the criminal justice system and the fundamental rights of life and liberty that we take for granted in a democracy.

Imagine: you are charged with a crime, but no one will tell you what that crime is, who specifically (what part of government) is charging you with the crime and/or is tasked with prosecuting the charges against you, where to read the law that prohibits the forbidden act, omission or conspiracy, when you committed the "crime," who accused you, the substance of the evidence against you (even in general terms), who or what was harmed, when your trial will take place, who will be charged with finding you guilty or innocent, what type of punishment you may face, whether you may appeal, among other missing items. Then, when you talk to court workers and even your own lawyer, there may be some nebulous way to avoid prosecution but no one can say exactly what that is and otherwise it's a foregone conclusion that you will be found guilty, your best hope being to drag out the process as long as you can just to n  stay aliven as this crazy train hurtles toward your inevitable end.

A historic classic masterwork that plants in its reader bad-dream seeds that may not germinate for years, but they will... yes, they will.

“It is not necessary to accept everything as true, one must only accept it as necessary.”

“A melancholy conclusion,” said K. “It turns lying into a universal principle.”

I reread The Trial and will reread “The Metamorphosis” in order to better read Kafka’s Letters to Milena, which I had only begun. I have long said this is one of the great works of literature, and I still think so, but I could also see how the tedious nature of K’s proceedings could translate into the tedium of reading for some readers, but the growing effect for me is of a nightmare, one that many can relate to on many levels. The basic story is simple and especially given the time it was published, 1925, though still today, strange: On his thirtieth birthday, the chief cashier of a bank, Josef K., is unexpectedly arrested by two unidentified agents from an unspecified agency for an unspecified crime. We proceed without ever knowing what the crime is that K supposedly committed, and what unravels is a labyrinthine nightmare, often surrealistic, sometimes comic, ultimately terrifying.

“But I’m not guilty,” said K. “There’s been a mistake. How is it even possible for someone to be guilty? We’re all human beings here, one like the other.” “That is true,” said the priest, “but that is how the guilty speak.”

Interpretations of The Trial seem to occupy one (or more) of five basic camps; autobiographical (Kafka worked as an insurance lawyer and certainly understood the almost indecipherable bureaucracy of that industry in general and insurance documents in particular); political (re: Austria-Hungary social tensions of 1914 when Kafka wrote it, and prefiguring the seemingly insane logic of fascist Nazi Germany); religious (Kafka was Jewish; some of the debates seem to echo Jewish theological debates; also, is there really meaning in life, or is life just absurd? Are God’s purposes ever knowable?); psychoanalytic (is K paranoid, going insane? and sociological (are we the victims of bureaucracy? Do many people really possess civil rights, or is this a myth?).

“It is an essential part of the justice dispensed here that you should be condemned not only in innocence but also in ignorance.”

I have a tendency to say yes, all of the above, about what this book “means,” because everything fits. And why read it today? Is there a rise in authoritarianism? Are we seeing a rise in fascism globally? Is this a dystopian book such as 1984? Sounds heavy, yes? And another aspect of this book is the fact that it has this Freudian sexual charge to it, with women close to Kafka obsessed with him, and/or he with them. Adding that layer to this book makes it seem extra crazy. Sometimes funny.

In many places the book seems very funny, actually; I seem to recall that Kafka, reading sections of it aloud to friends, was convulsed with laughter. It feels on the one hand tragic, a political or legal nightmare, and yet in some places it seems like dark comedy, like a Marx Brothers movie. In one place, for instance, judges read porn magazines rather than legal texts.

“It’s only because of their stupidity that they’re able to be so sure of themselves.”

Maybe one sign of a great book is that it can mean so many different things to many people. If that’s the case, this is a great book. It certainly changed my view of the world when I first read it and it has always seemed to me to speak to modern/contemporary existential and social human conditions.

PS: I just attended the 2018 CAKE (Chicago Alternative Komix Exposition) and met Landis Blair, who published this Kafka Trial Choose Your Own Adventure book, which is not yet listed on Goodreads:

http://www.landisblair.com/store/the-...

چند شب پیش فیلم «بزرگراه گمشده» از دیوید لینچ را دیدم. بعد از فیلم، به عادت همیشگی، فوری مرورگر اینترنت را باز کردم و سرچ کردم:

Lost highway WTF?!

قبل تر که فیلم «کله پاک کنی» را دیده بودم هم مشابه همین را سرچ کردم و همین طور قبل ترش که «مالهالند درایو» را دیده بودم. هر بار هم کلی نتایج خنده آوری پیدا کردم! بیننده هایی که از روند آشفته و هذیان گونۀ فیلم به سر درد افتاده بودند و با عصبانیت می خواستند بدانند این دیگر چی بود که دیدند؟ و دیگرانی که جواب داده بودند و سعی کرده بودند برای اتفاقات نامربوط فیلم به هر زور و زحمتی که شده توجیهی عقلانی پیدا کنند، حتی توجیهاتی خنده دار و آبکی. تماشای این تلاش های مذبوحانه برای جا دادن یک تجربۀ آزاردهندۀ غیرعقلانی در قالبی که نظم و معنایی عقلانی پیدا کند، همیشه برایم خنده دار بوده و هست. نه فقط راجع به فیلم های دیوید لینچ. راجع به تمام به اصطلاح تفسیرها و تحلیل هایی که سعی می کنند وقایع یک داستان را به شکلی نمادین یا به هر ترتیب دیگر، به گونه ای بازسازی کنند که آن آزاردهندگی ناشی از توجیه ناپذیری را از دست بدهند، و با فهم هر روزه سازگار شوند.

داستان های کافکا از همین دستند. داستان هایی که وقتی در آن ها غرق می شوی دنیایی غریب و وهم انگیز را تجربه می کنی. دنیایی کاملاً شبیه به همین دنیای خودمان، ولی غیرقابل توضیح با قواعدی که به آن خو کرده ایم. به همین دلیل وحشتی بیان نشدنی در طول داستان جریان دارد. در مقابل، تفسیرها و تحلیل هایی که از داستان های کافکا شده، به طور کامل از دنیایی که کافکا می خواسته خلق کند بیرون است، و حتی تلاش می کند آن را تخریب کند. تلاش می کند همۀ آن احساس های بیان نشدنی را با تفسیرهایی پیش پا افتاده، در قالب های عقلانی جا بدهد:

سوسک مسخ؟
انسان ازخودبیگانه، دستمالی شده ترین و در نتیجه پیش پا افتاده ترین مفهوم قرن نوزدهم و بیستم.

دادگاه محاکمه؟
بوروکراسی فاسد.

و فاجعه تر از همه، قصر: ملکوت آسمان!

وقتی در صفحات اینترنت می چرخم و توجیه های خنده دار آدم ها راجع به فیلم های لینچ را می خوانم، همیشه یک فکر در ذهنم چرخ می خورد: این هایی که فیلم را این طور تفسیر و فهم کرده اند، پس از چه چیز فیلم لذت برده اند؟


پ ن:
این ریویوی قدیم من از محاکمه است، آیا من هم به دنبال تفسیر عقلانی این رمان بودم؟

معروفه که میگن اسم «ک» برای شخصیت اول، نشون دهنده ی اینه که کافکا نمیخاد شخصیت پردازی بکنه. نمیخاد شخصیتش حتا اسم داشته باشه. این، شاید مهم ترين خصوصيت «ک» باشه. بی هویت و بی شخصیت بودنش. شخصيت انفعالى داشتنش. او همواره محكوم بوده، همچنان كه در دادگاه بى نام و نشان محكوم میشه. محكوم بوده كه جهان و ديگران هويتش رو تعيين كنن. همیشه همراه با جهت جهان اطرافش حرکت میکنه. عموش به جاش تصميم میگیره. دخترك ناقص الخلقه به جاش تصميم میگیره. وكيلش به جاش تصميم میگیره. رييسش به جاش تصميم میگیره و نهايتاً، دادگاه به جاش تصميم میگیره. سعی میکنه كه مبارزه كنه و عليه همه ى اين ها بشوره، ولى شكست میخوره. و در انتها، در برابر اين تقدير گريزناپذير تسليم میشه و خودشو به دست جلادها میسپره.

Wie schreibe ich eine Review zu so einem Werk?
Vier Punkte will ich nicht vergessen:

1) Ich liebe Kafka. Schon immer. Werde es immer tun. Held meiner Jugend, Verständnis hin oder her. Niemand konnte dem 18-jährigen wütenden Sinnsucher, der ich war, die Fiesheit der Welt so deutlich vor Augen führen wie der hohlwangig-schöne leidende Kafka.

2) Ich stimme allen bisherigen Ansätzen zu: "Der Prozess" ist ebenso gut Anklage der modernen Bürokratie wie des Absolutheitsanspruchs des Staates, ist eine Parabel auf die Existenz des Menschen wie eine Überlegung um göttliche Justiz, ist die Auseinandersetzung zwischen Allgemeinheit und Individuum.

3) Es gab Seiten im Werk, die ich ungerne las, ja langweilig und sprachlich öde fand. Ich schäme mich, es zu bekennen, aber es war mein Lektüreerleben. An der Großartigkeit ändert das nichts.

4) Vielleicht geht es um die Frage, welche Text-Ebene am stärksten und lautesten auf meiner Seelen-Saite angeschlagen hat: Am faszinierendsten fand ich den Konflikt zwischen den kollektiven, quasi objektiven Elementen und der ausbleibenden individuellen Verantwortungsübernahme durch K. Das Gericht und der Prozess werden nie in Frage gestellt, obwohl ihre Existenz von K. nicht direkt wahrgenommen wird. Er verlässt sich (bis zum Schluss) auf die Meinungen anderer und übernimmt deren Konzepte. K. urteilt keine Minute nach individuellen moralischen Gesichtspunkten. Dadurch erschien er mir wie ein von externen Mächten nicht eigentlich äußerlich, sondern vor allem mental abhängiger Mensch.
Im ersten Teil fand ich daher die Versuche von K., seine Umwelt und Mitmenschen zu deuten und ihre Handlungen als von ihm vorhergesehen darzustellen, geradezu mitleiderregend. Er ist offenbar nicht in der Lage, die Undurchdringlichkeit oder Widersinnigkeit der Welt zu akzeptieren, sein Weg führt über die ständig versuchte (und natürlich scheiternde) Angleichung von Innenwelt und Außenwelt. Das fand ich rührend. Und von Kafka ein starkes Charakterbild eines Individuums, das gefangen ist im Innen wie im Außen.

To be continued.
Kann man dieses Werk komplett verstehen? Wer weiß. Ich nicht.

Josef K. (just his initial is revealed), a banker in the beautiful city of Prague, now the capital of the Czech Republic, during the last days of the crumbling Austro- Hungarian Empire, before World War 1, such a man at the young age of thirty, to be in charge of a large bank's finances, yet he lives in a boarding house of Frau Grabach, why a successful person does, is a mystery. Maybe he likes the attractive women there, especially Fraulein Burstner, Josef is a bit of a wolf, then out of the sky, two men come to his room and arrest him, the arrogant guards even eat his breakfast, and try to take his good clothes too, the charge, they don't say or know or care! K. is shocked to the bone, but permitted to continue his ordinary work routine, a Twilight Zonish situation develops, K. ordered to see an examining magistrate and goes to an old apartment building, in a poor, shabby suburb of the city, finally after asking directions, Josef arrives on the fifth floor, late and finding the filthy hall full of people of various kinds, all of them look at Josef, as the main attraction there . The uncaring judge thinks he's a house painter, when K. informs him that he's the chief financial officer of a bank, the crowd has a big, long laugh, how can Josef take his trial seriously? The angry magistrate is powerless to control the boisterous gathering, and after many more such meetings , in rooms with dirty air, which makes the defendant quite sick, Josef in one place, is carried out of the building, to get fresh air, to resuscitate him. Days and weeks pass, Uncle Karl, from the country visits K. the concerned uncle, has heard of his nephew's troubles, and takes him to an old lawyer friend, Dr. Huld, the lawyer has lots of contacts but Huld is a very sick, old man, K. doesn't trust him either or anybody else. Other men he sees for aid, a painter, merchant, manufacturer and a priest, as his final hope, but nothing can get him off, his unknown perilous path, his darkness increases steadily. A nightmarish life hits hard the accused , and still no one tells him what crime was committed! The helpless banker feels the power of the State's Bureaucracy and his work at the bank suffers, as a consequence, substantially, it matter not that K. is innocent, no one asks him if he is guilty! Will this bad, horrendous dream ever end? The limited rights that any man has against an omniscient , totalitarian government, is shown in this remarkable novel.

It's important, in this life, to have goals.

Sure, they are often a lesson in the enduring power of futility, our lack of free will as demonstrated by the ever-present arm of bureaucracy.

If your goal, for example, is à la our protagonist's, you will spend several years or 341 pages or the rest of your life or a wasted afternoon attempting to extricate yourself from mysterious charges from an absurd institution, progressing not at all in the achievement of this objective but at least proving both of the above arguments as well as manage to psychically predict the pointless cruelty of the American justice system a hundred years later.

But if your goal, à la my own, is simply to be able to use the word "Kafkaesque" whenever your little heart desires, you can read this, draw on your memories of the two times you've read The Metamorphosis in school, and be on your merry way.

Both sorts of aim give us purpose. And without the drive they grant us, even though it merely distracts us from the reality of what we are putting ourselves through daily at the hands of society, the government, and what have you...without the illusion of progress provided...

We have nothing.

Like our poor Josef K.

At least I have a whole new word to use.

Bottom line: This will make you look very melancholy and sophisticated when you read it on public transit (especially if you have the same vintage Modern Library edition I do), which is one of the best compliments I can pay a book.

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pre-review

"the real treasure was the friends we made along the way," except the real bureaucracy was our own lack of free will.

you know?

review to come / 4 stars

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currently-reading updates

just trying to unlock the ability to use the word "kafkaesque"

clear ur shit book 36
quest 17: read a book you've been putting off

Guilt and innocence: Who can be considered innocent and who can be considered guilty?

After all, K. lived in a state governed by law, there was universal peace, all statutes were in force; who dared assault him in his own lodgings?

The state is an ogre… The citizen is a pygmy… And an ogre can do with a pygmy whatever it wishes… But ogres prefer to eat pygmies and for appearance’s sake they use law… And to apply law there are courts and bureaucracy.

The gradations and ranks of the court are infinite, extending beyond the ken even of initiates. The proceedings in the courts of law are generally a mystery to the lower officials as well; therefore they can almost never follow the progress of the cases they are working on throughout their course; the case enters their field of vision, often they know not whence, and continues on, they know not where.

Once the machinery of soulless bureaucracy started working, there is no way to stop it.

An apparent acquittal is handled differently. There is no further change in the files except for adding to them the certification of innocence, the acquittal, and the grounds for the acquittal. Otherwise they remain in circulation; following the law court’s normal routine they are passed on to the higher courts, come back to the lower ones, swinging back and forth with larger or smaller oscillations, longer or shorter interruptions. These paths are unpredictable. Externally it may sometimes appear that everything has been long since forgotten, the file has been lost, and the acquittal is absolute. No initiate would ever believe that. No file is ever lost, and the court never forgets.

To the state, there is no such thing as an innocent person. If an individual doesn’t obey the state, the state exterminates an individual as a vermin.

Strange, bleak, not really for me.