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|Title||:||the diaries of franz kafka 1910 1913|
|Number of Pages||:||345 Pages|
|Status||:||Available For Download|
|Last checked||:||21 Minutes ago!|
the diaries of franz kafka 1910 1913 Reviews
My rather roundabout reason for reading Kafka’s diaries is the novel Spurious by Lars Iyer, in which the two main characters endlessly debate which one of them is Kafka and which Max Brod in their relationship. Also, I asked my dad whether I should read the diaries or The Trial first and he thought that the diaries would be a suitable warm-up. Moreover, the library had a gorgeous 1948 edition, in impressive condition for a 65 year old book ostensibly available to undergraduate students.I take some issue with the characterisation of this volume as Kafka’s diaries, though. He may have called them that himself, but they read a lot more like notebooks. In fact, the experience of reading them is odd and disjointed, as they are best described as a salad of frequently un-dated literary fragments. Kafka recounts dreams, repeatedly begins the same story, complains about his parents, criticises a play, and analyses his own soul, but it is challenging to divide one from the other. In many cases, I did not know whether I was reading a fictional or real anecdote. In a way this is interesting, as all diaries rely on the diarist to be accurate in their recollections. Reading Kafka’s diaries brings this into relief, as at times he appears to be fictionalising his life into literature, or projecting literature onto his life. All diarists do this, perhaps the reader is just made more conscious of it here.The diaries are also largely abstract; Kafka talks of friendship, despair, love, Judaism, literature, and loneliness, with only the occasional venture into more prosaic matters (constipation, eveningwear). That said, he also composes marvellous word-portraits of his friends and their literary-theatrical circle. His style of diary-writing is very much that of the vignette, which can be roughly sorted into fact and fiction by whether it is written in the first or third person. I persisted with the book, which is retrospect was an odd thing to read over Christmas, despite it being very peculiar and at times incomprehensible. For example, a paragraph that begins, 'My repugnance for antitheses is certain' makes absolutely no sense to me at all. The translator and myself are likely both partially to blame for my lack of understanding. Nonetheless, Kafka’s extraordinary, discomforting talent is very evident in these notebooks and they contain elements of hilarity and horror which exert a considerable fascination.
Its a personal diary, so its not written in a way thats meant to be read easily. Theres a lot of minutia about plays which he saw which isn't too interesting. However, his descriptions of existential angst are pretty cool. Kafka was a depressive, but this makes him seem more depressed than he probably was due to the fact that diaries are just generally filled with people dumping their anxieties. Problems with talking to people, esp women, family problems, etc.Also great are his descriptions of the everyday behavior of people around him, which was obvious practice for his books. I particularly like his descriptions of women.Also lots of jew-talk in here. References to the activities of contemporary Zionist groups and Talmudic scriptures etc.Stay away unless you love Kafka and/or diaries.
I think Kafka bequeathed his diaries to his good friend Max Brod with instructions to burn them. Max then published them. The diaries are a combination of relatively straight forward observations from his day to day life, musings on various subjects close to home (such as Jewish questions, self doubts, friends, literary comments), beginnings or workings of stories and internal monologs spilled onto paper. Kafka lets his fears and self doubts shine through and the diaries reminded me of something I read in Orwell: Life is measured as a series of failures.
Ljudskost u genijalnosti, strahovi i pitanja. Drugačiji pogled na sve Kafkino i njega.
Los diarios son toda una aventura de lectura, no se sabe a qué atenerse, y aún más sorprendente cuando se trata del diario de un escritor, donde la versatilidad verbal alcanza posibilidades creativas impensables.Tenemos narraciones de los sucesos cotidianos de Kafka, entre madre, padre y hermanas, y sus amistades, del circulo teatrero de la ciudad y las amistades de escritores entre quienes leen sus creaciones (Kafka puede recordar cuántas veces se desconcentró escuchando una lectura en voz alta) y se hacen crítica constante.Tenemos frases cortas, como cortadas, que posiblemente son la primera línea de un relato, o simplemente son el relato completo considerando la grandeza de las peculiaridades que K. logra captar. Algunas de estas cortas líneas alcanzan la magnitud narrativa de un corto cinematográfico al narrar desde ángulos tan amplios que captan multitudes de entrecruzamientos de comportamientos humanos.La literatura es toda la vida de K., tanto que termina viéndose en cualquiera de sus relaciones sociales, lee a sus hermanas, gasta letra a su padre mucho más que una carta, sus amigos están porque comparten textos, con los del teatro cuenta la razón de su parquedad ya que no se atreve a darles sus críticas sobre construcción de las tramas ni sobre lo fallido, a su parecer, de la representación.Hay muchos aspectos en este diario, muchos usos del diario, por decirlo de alguna manera. Solo menciono los que más recuerdo. Me alegra saber que aún queda otra parte del diario porque es un libro que terminó acompañándome un largo tiempo, marcando también la cadencia de mis días y haciéndome compaginar en tenor sensible con algunos días grises de K.
I love Kafka. He is hilarious.