Kafka at One Hundred: Guiding Us Through the Madness and Wonders of Our Life.
A century after his death, Franz Kafka, the most famous loner in world literature, remains an iconic literary monument with wise, therapeutic lessons for these crazy, sometimes absurd times.
Franz Kafka died on June 3, 1924, of tuberculosis, barely 40 years old. That’s exactly 100 years today. To be clear, Kafka was not a huge fan of himself. This is one reason why his friend Max Brod received explicit instructions to destroy his manuscripts, as they did not meet his strict standards.
Fortunately for us, Brod ignored his last wish. Without his disobedience, we would never have known “The Trial,” “America,” or “The Castle.” Phew!
“The Office”, in Prague
This Prague-born Jewish writer continues to fascinate 100 years after his death. Why? Because Kafka profoundly explores the human condition. His (short) stories reflect his inner struggle and paradoxical relationship with literature, making him one of the most intriguing and influential writers of the 20th century.
His writing is surreal and often absurd, but it is also very amusing to read. Kafka is the voice of office work, the wordsmith of the working world and middle class that emerged through industrial modernization in the early 20th century.
He populates his world with office workers, legal advisors, administrative staff, and early marketers who are part of a bizarre, cruel, and sometimes funny world. Sound familiar?
Think of ‘The Office,’ but set in Prague during the Interwar period.
Doll Letters
Libraries have been written about his tormented life. It followed the pattern of other geniuses who died young, like Arthur Rimbaud, Kurt Cobain, or Amy Winehouse.
In the last winter of his life in 1924, Kafka had no money left and could not even afford a café visit. Instead, he often went for walks. One day, he met a little girl crying on a bench in a park because her doll was missing.
The writer tried to comfort the child by telling her that the doll had just gone on a little trip. When asked how he knew, Kafka let slip that the doll had written him a letter and that he would bring it the next day. The following day, Kafka read the girl a letter from the doll in the park.
For three weeks, he invented doll letters. Every day, he had a message from her doll for the child, who could not read herself. As the girl insisted on her return, he had to invent a reason for her absence.
So, he created a fiancé for the doll and then let her marry him festively. The doll had found a new home, and she wrote that she hoped the girl would understand that she couldn’t return anymore. Beautiful.
The letters to the doll probably reflected the late love and happiness Kafka found with Dora Diamant but were, above all, an exercise in saying goodbye to the terminally ill writer (the tuberculosis was ravaging his frail body). Diamant first recounted the doll story.
It cannot be proven true because the letters are lost (or maybe never existed). Now, whether they are real or not doesn’t matter. What counts is that this story is often shared worldwide via social media, which still touches us and makes us believe that there are good people in the world. Because, yes, this was also Kafka.
Still Captivating
Kafka makes you think, reflect, and contemplate. When I first read “The Judgment” at 17, it wasn’t so much the complex and fatal father-son relationship (the son commits suicide, we presume) in the story that caught my attention, but the speed with which you devoured his short stories. As a young adolescent, I understood little of it and was certainly not alone. Many struggle with his works.
That ambiguity gives him a certain aura.
Now, we know him mainly as the personification of bureaucratic absurdism. Imagine waking up one morning to find your e-box flooded with arrest warrants or fines you don’t understand or turning into a giant insect just before a big presentation at your company.
Such absurd situations are inextricably linked to the beautiful world of Franz Kafka. Kafka continues to fascinate, and the new generation has caught that. Generation Z and millennials discover Kafka through social media, where they recognize their own experiences of alienation and absurdity in memes, cartoons, and dark humor. Tap #FranzKafka on TikTok, and you’ll find 139 million hits.
Because yes, we live in a world entirely of cataclysms (‘CLIMATE — Since the beginning of measurements’), a society groaning under a load of expectations (MEETINGS — ‘Can you cover tomorrow?’), and we struggle with existential fears (‘BREAKING — ‘Putin announces nuclear exercises’) — themes that Kafka explored with dark humor and still profoundly resonate.
If you seek profound observations about the Self and the world around you, you’re at the right place with this cheerful Franz. Kafka searches for meaning in a chaotic world, which brings a great deal of uncertainty and confusion.
His diary reads like self-flagellation. He humorously notes how he ‘tightens the knife in his heart’ or feels alone when he ‘shows his real face.’ His reflections continually offer insight into the perceived meaninglessness of his existence.
Literature was his refuge in which he confronted harsh reality. The question of whether it all ultimately made sense reflects his struggle with writing and life. The fact that he asked Max Brod to burn his work is also part of this. The boundary between apparent reality and inner truth results in a profound disappointment in his life and writings.
Therapeutic
The hope for great literary recognition did not come, which hit him badly. His illness freed him from his professional obligations, removing his desire to write. That is another reason why he asked Brod to burn his work. It no longer mattered.
However, despair is not Kafka’s guiding principle. In “The Trial,” his protagonist, Josef K., fights against an indifferent, faceless system. Indeed, enough to drive one crazy. And here’s the twist: Kafka doesn’t just wallow in despair.
He injects irony into the absurdity, reminding us to laugh at the ridiculous to put it in perspective. Yet, there is a glimmer of hope in that mad gloom. Kafka demystifies power and makes alienation tangible. And that bitter alienation is omnipresent today.
Due to high demands, people often feel more alienated from their work. Gregor Samsa’s transformation into an insect symbolizes the inability to meet expectations. Kafka emphasizes the dehumanization inherent in a system that sees people as cogs without regard for well-being. The rising burnouts and long-term sick leaves today also show this systemic flaw.
But Gregor’s abrupt transformation reflects our world’s rapid, often chaotic changes. Today, we are firmly confronted with this. Climate change, nuclear threats, artificial intelligence, and social upheavals can leave us disoriented and lost, just like Gregor as he struggles to navigate his transformed world.
But how should we understand Kafka now, 100 years after his death? We must see him as an author who implicitly deals with actions that can be ethically and morally right or wrong. Moreover, Kafka’s strength lies in the fact that everyone can read something different from it.
Behind his absurdly constructed veil of often comical public performances lie profound lessons about what makes us human. Therapeutic, indeed. Why do we do the things we do, and how should we deal with them as human beings?
Kafka explains.
The next time you’re stuck or overwhelmed by work, let Kafka help you. His work reveals the absurdity of modern life but also allows room for the humor and humanity in it. Use his perspective to embrace the strangeness, challenge the status quo, and find your path. Kafka’s stories offer a deeper understanding of ourselves and encourage critical thinking. This can help us build resilience in the face of today’s challenges.
