Kafka died 100 years in the past with out understanding who he was Kafka | Culture | EUROtoday

The most good-looking author on this planet, as a result of Franz Kafka was essentially the most good-looking author in historical past, didn’t even remotely know the existence of the adjective “Kafkaesque” in his life. Kafka died 100 years in the past in a state of irredeemable “Kafkaesque” virginity: he died with out understanding that he was Franz Kafka. And he now he's all over the place. When you obtain a communication from social safety the place your identify is misspelled, Franz is there. When you purchase a cellphone for a thousand euros and instantly it really works worse than one for 100, there’s Franz. When you assume you've dreamed about God and also you get up with a panic assault, there's Franz. When you run after a bus that’s about to depart, and simply as you arrive the driving force closes the doorways in your face and laughs at you, there’s Franz. When you need to do good and find yourself doing evil, Franz is there. When you bought divorced and thought you have been going to die of ache and the following yr you have been pretty much as good as new, there’s Franz. When you don't perceive what individuals on tv are speaking about, there's Franz. When you see the present political confusion, whenever you hear the shouts, the flags, and the stridency of each attainable demagogy, there’s Franz, as a result of Franz is all over the place. In the subway, within the shanties, within the luxurious accommodations, within the distress and within the abomination, there he’s. Because he noticed all of it and wrote all of it.

Don't overlook that it’s not possible to know his work by studying solely Metamorphosis. Kafka is Kafka as a result of he wrote these three posthumous novels: The fortress, The course of y America. Kafka was one meter eighty-two centimeters tall and weighed 61 kilos. It was a thread of meat. All the times of Franz Kafka's life have been a prospection of all the times that we women and men have been going to stay on this June 3, 2024. Kafka beloved human beings as nobody else has beloved them. An amazing hospitable comic, like Cervantes, valued us greater than we have been price. When I’m going to die, I’ll hear Franz Kafka telling me this: “Consider me a dream.” All of his books are autobiographical and Kafka had much less creativeness than a stone. His greatness is in realism. How may literature like Kafka's come into the world? All literatures are predictable, however not this one. This is an irreducible singularity. He was one centimeter shorter than Elvis Presley, who reached six toes three inches tall. They each got here to free us from all social, political and cultural submission.

Kafka lives in each nook. All the passwords in your laptop, in your financial institution checking accounts, on all of the purposes you’ve gotten in your cell phone have been invented by Franz Kafka. He noticed all of the alienations of the world. He noticed Hitler and Stalin earlier than they have been Hitler and Stalin. However, he didn’t see himself as Franz Kafka, however Kafka-esquely selected to be simply one other man, nameless, vulgar, as sick as he was in love with nobody is aware of who or what, who died of tuberculosis on June 3, 1924. And He left us right here, alone within the face of hazard. Alone earlier than the inhuman administrations of contemporary states, earlier than religions, earlier than superstitions, earlier than guilt, earlier than misunderstanding that has turn into the one purpose for existence, earlier than the supernatural, and earlier than thriller. A chunk of recommendation: don't get carried away by Kafka, stick with Hemingway.

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