{"id":102367,"date":"2016-09-14T10:30:07","date_gmt":"2016-09-14T14:30:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=102367"},"modified":"2016-09-14T16:10:18","modified_gmt":"2016-09-14T20:10:18","slug":"three-by-kafka","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/09\/14\/three-by-kafka\/","title":{"rendered":"Three by Kafka"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"A<\/a>

A drawing from Kafka\u2019s journal, 1916.<\/p><\/div><\/center><\/p>\n

Three <\/em>what by Kafka? Truthfully, I don\u2019t know how best to categorize the trio of prose nuggets below. I\u2019m tempted to call them parables\u2014each is succinct and appears to illustrate some truth\u2014but Kafka himself undoes that notion in the first fragment, drawing a meaningful line between the lessons of allegory and those of real life. And yet Kafka\u2019s writing is so effective because it plays within an area of overlap between the two worlds. The result, of course, is the Kafkaesque, a mode that is entirely unto itself. \u201cIt would be a fallacy,\u201d writes Peter Wortsman, the editor and translator of <\/em>Konundrum<\/a>, from which these fragments are excerpted, \u201cto insist that his fables and parables, or whatever literary label we may apply, are really about anything, i.e., that they correspond to states of reality extant outside the tenuous confines of a solitary psyche, or that they carry a clearly decipherable moral.\u201d\u00a0
<\/em><\/p>\n

In <\/em>Konundrum (forthcoming next month), Wortsman has gathered remnants of Kafka\u2019s various writings\u2014letters, journals, posthumously published and unfinished stories, newly translated tales\u2014from which we have selected three. These jottings come from Kafkas\u2019s posthumous papers, and each was titled by his friend, biographer, and literary executor Max Brod. \u2014Nicole Rudick
<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

CONCERNING PARABLES<\/strong><\/p>\n

Many complain that the words of the wise are always only presented as parables, useless in daily life, and this is all we have. When the wise man says: \u201cGet thee hence,\u201d he does not mean that we should go to the other side, a task we could in any case easily accomplish were the crossing worthwhile, he rather means for us to hasten to some fabled yonder that we don\u2019t know, a place moreover which he cannot describe any more precisely, and which is perfectly useless to us here and now. What all these parables really mean to say is just that the incomprehensible is incomprehensible, and that much we already knew. But what we wrestle with every day, that\u2019s something else.<\/p>\n

To which a wise one said: \u201cWhy do you resist? Were you to follow the wisdom of the parables, you yourselves would become parables, and would thereby be relieved of the burden of everyday toil.\u201d<\/p>\n

Another one said: \u201cI bet that that\u2019s a parable too.\u201d <\/p>\n

Whereupon the first one said: \u201cYou win.\u201d<\/p>\n

To which the second said: \u201cBut only figuratively speaking.\u201d<\/p>\n

Said the first: \u201cNo, in reality; figuratively speaking, you lose.\u201d<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

GIVE IT UP!<\/strong><\/p>\n

It was very early in the morning, the streets were clean and deserted, I was on my way to the train station. When I compared the time on a clock tower with that on my pocket watch and realized that it was already much later than I thought, I really had to rush, the shock at this discovery made me suddenly uncertain as to the right direction, I didn\u2019t yet know my way all that well in this city. Fortunately, spotting a policeman nearby, I ran up to him and breathlessly asked him the way.<\/p>\n

He smiled and said: \u201cYou want me to tell you the way?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said, \u201csince I can\u2019t figure it out for myself.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGive it up, give it up,\u201d he said, and turned away with a great swing of the body like people who want to be alone with their laughter.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

POSEIDON<\/strong><\/p>\n

Poseidon sat at his desk and crunched numbers. The management of all bodies of water was a humongous task. He could have hired as many helpers as he liked, and he already had quite a few, but since he took his job so seriously and double-checked all calculations, all his underlings were of little use. It cannot be said that he took pleasure in the work, he only did it out of a sense of duty; he had, in fact, already applied more than once for a more gratifying task, as he put it, but every time he was presented with various alternatives, it turned out that nothing suited him as much as his present position. It was also very difficult to find something else for him to do. One could not very well assign him the management of a single sea; notwithstanding the fact that here, too, the actuarial task was no more manageable, just more nit-picking, the great Poseidon could after all only be assigned a top-tier management position. Whenever he was offered work outside the aqueous domain, the very prospect made him feel queasy, his godly breath wavered, his mighty chest quavered. Truth to tell, his disgruntlement was not really taken all that seriously; when a mighty one vents his spleen, there is no other recourse but to pretend to humor him, even in the case of such a hopeless matter; no one ever seriously envisioned releasing Poseidon from his post; since time immemorial he was destined to be god of the seas, and that\u2019s the way it would always be.<\/p>\n

What annoyed him the most\u2014indeed the principle source of his displeasure with the job\u2014was the image mankind made of him forever gadding about with his trident in the tides. While all the while he sat there in the watery depths endlessly crunching numbers, a trip every now and then to check in with Jupiter was his only break from the eternal monotony, a journey from which, moreover, he generally returned in a rage. He hardly ever got a chance to enjoy his journey through the seven seas, just sped through them on his way to Olympus, never pausing to look around. He liked to joke that he was waiting for the end of the world, then he\u2019d find a free moment right before the end, after completing his final calculation, to take a quick spin in the sea.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Three what by Kafka? Truthfully, I don\u2019t know how best to categorize the trio of prose nuggets below. I\u2019m tempted to call them parables\u2014each is succinct and appears to illustrate some truth\u2014but Kafka himself undoes that notion in the first fragment, drawing a meaningful line between the lessons of allegory and those of real life. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1053,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[489],"tags":[24517,15154,5410,503,22436,24516,504,21432,20910,24414,24513,24365,24514,17842,23250,24515,530,24519,24518],"class_list":["post-102367","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books-2","tag-allegory","tag-fables","tag-franz-kafka","tag-journal","tag-kafkaesque","tag-konundrum","tag-literature","tag-max-brod","tag-parables","tag-peter-wortsman","tag-poseidon","tag-posthumous","tag-posthumous-papers","tag-prose","tag-real-life","tag-translated","tag-translation","tag-wise","tag-words-of-the-wise"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nThree Fragments from \u2018The Selected Prose of Franz Kafka\u2019<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"\u201cConcerning Parables,\u201d \u201cGive It Up!\u201d and \u201cPoseidon\u201d\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/09\/14\/three-by-kafka\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Three by Kafka by Franz Kafka\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"September 14, 2016 \u2013 Three what by Kafka? 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