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Konundrum: Selected Prose of Franz Kafka
In this new selection and translation, Peter Wortsman mines Franz Kafka’s entire opus of short prose – including works published in the author’s brief lifetime, stories published posthumously, journals, and letters – for narratives that sound the imaginative depths of the great German-Jewish scribe from Prague. It is the first volume in English to consider his deeply strange, resonantly humane letters and journal entries alongside his classic short fiction and lyrical vignettes. “Transformed” is a vivid retranslation of one of Kafka’s signature stories, “Die Verwandlung,” commonly rendered in English as “The Metamorphosis.” Composed of short, black-comic parables, fables, fairy tales, reflections, as well as classic stories like “In the Penal Colony,” Kafka’s uncanny foreshadowing of the Twentieth Century’s nightmare, Konundrum refreshes the writer’s mythic storytelling powers for a new generation of readers.
381 pages, Paperback
First published October 25, 2016
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205 people want to read
About the author
Franz Kafka
3,209 books38.3k followersPrague-born writer Franz Kafka wrote in German, and his stories, such as "
The Metamorphosis
" (1916), and posthumously published novels, including
The Trial
(1925), concern troubled individuals in a nightmarishly impersonal world.
Jewish middle-class family of this major fiction writer of the 20th century spoke German. People consider his unique body of much incomplete writing, mainly published posthumously, among the most influential in European literature.
His stories include "The Metamorphosis" (1912) and " In the Penal Colony " (1914), whereas his posthumous novels include The Trial (1925), The Castle (1926) and Amerika (1927).
Despite first language, Kafka also spoke fluent Czech. Later, Kafka acquired some knowledge of the French language and culture from Flaubert, one of his favorite authors.
Kafka first studied chemistry at the Charles-Ferdinand University of Prague but after two weeks switched to law. This study offered a range of career possibilities, which pleased his father, and required a longer course of study that gave Kafka time to take classes in German studies and art history. At the university, he joined a student club, named Lese- und Redehalle der Deutschen Studenten, which organized literary events, readings, and other activities. In the end of his first year of studies, he met Max Brod, a close friend of his throughout his life, together with the journalist Felix Weltsch, who also studied law. Kafka obtained the degree of doctor of law on 18 June 1906 and performed an obligatory year of unpaid service as law clerk for the civil and criminal courts.
Writing of Kafka attracted little attention before his death. During his lifetime, he published only a few short stories and never finished any of his novels except the very short "The Metamorphosis." Kafka wrote to Max Brod, his friend and literary executor: "Dearest Max, my last request: Everything I leave behind me ... in the way of diaries, manuscripts, letters (my own and others'), sketches, and so on, [is] to be burned unread." Brod told Kafka that he intended not to honor these wishes, but Kafka, so knowing, nevertheless consequently gave these directions specifically to Brod, who, so reasoning, overrode these wishes. Brod in fact oversaw the publication of most of work of Kafka in his possession; these works quickly began to attract attention and high critical regard.
Max Brod encountered significant difficulty in compiling notebooks of Kafka into any chronological order as Kafka started writing in the middle of notebooks, from the last towards the first, et cetera.
Kafka wrote all his published works in German except several letters in Czech to Milena Jesenská.
Jewish middle-class family of this major fiction writer of the 20th century spoke German. People consider his unique body of much incomplete writing, mainly published posthumously, among the most influential in European literature.
His stories include "The Metamorphosis" (1912) and " In the Penal Colony " (1914), whereas his posthumous novels include The Trial (1925), The Castle (1926) and Amerika (1927).
Despite first language, Kafka also spoke fluent Czech. Later, Kafka acquired some knowledge of the French language and culture from Flaubert, one of his favorite authors.
Kafka first studied chemistry at the Charles-Ferdinand University of Prague but after two weeks switched to law. This study offered a range of career possibilities, which pleased his father, and required a longer course of study that gave Kafka time to take classes in German studies and art history. At the university, he joined a student club, named Lese- und Redehalle der Deutschen Studenten, which organized literary events, readings, and other activities. In the end of his first year of studies, he met Max Brod, a close friend of his throughout his life, together with the journalist Felix Weltsch, who also studied law. Kafka obtained the degree of doctor of law on 18 June 1906 and performed an obligatory year of unpaid service as law clerk for the civil and criminal courts.
Writing of Kafka attracted little attention before his death. During his lifetime, he published only a few short stories and never finished any of his novels except the very short "The Metamorphosis." Kafka wrote to Max Brod, his friend and literary executor: "Dearest Max, my last request: Everything I leave behind me ... in the way of diaries, manuscripts, letters (my own and others'), sketches, and so on, [is] to be burned unread." Brod told Kafka that he intended not to honor these wishes, but Kafka, so knowing, nevertheless consequently gave these directions specifically to Brod, who, so reasoning, overrode these wishes. Brod in fact oversaw the publication of most of work of Kafka in his possession; these works quickly began to attract attention and high critical regard.
Max Brod encountered significant difficulty in compiling notebooks of Kafka into any chronological order as Kafka started writing in the middle of notebooks, from the last towards the first, et cetera.
Kafka wrote all his published works in German except several letters in Czech to Milena Jesenská.
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
July 25, 2016
This is a wonderful collection of Kafka's short works as well as entries from his diaries and excerpts from some of his letters. Included is a version of his famous work, The Metamorphosis.
The interspersing of non-fiction entries was illuminating and interesting. If you love Kafka, as I do, this is a must-have. It is a volume I will return to again and again.
Thanks to NetGalley and Archipelago Books for the opportunity to read this volume.
The interspersing of non-fiction entries was illuminating and interesting. If you love Kafka, as I do, this is a must-have. It is a volume I will return to again and again.
Thanks to NetGalley and Archipelago Books for the opportunity to read this volume.
April 8, 2020
Franz Kafka. Most everyone has read at least something by him (and if you haven't, what the hell have you been doing?) and that something is most likely his famous 1912 short story, "The Metamorphosis" (here retranslated as "Transformed").
But even those who haven't read him know something of him, are familiar with the term "Kafkaesque," even if, perhaps, they don't really know what it means.
"What's Kafkaesque," Frederick R. Karl, author of a biography on Kafka, says, "is when you enter a surreal world in which all your control patterns, all your plans, the whole way in which you have configured your own behavior, begins to fall to pieces, when you find yourself against a force that does not lend itself to the way you perceive the world."
Sound familiar? Indeed, when I look around, when I scan the news — and "scan" is really all I have it in me to do these days — "Kafkaesque" feels like the perfect word to describe our own times.
As such, have the stories of Franz Kafka ever been more relevant? Not for my money (not that I've got much).
If I'm asked, during the day, to name my favorite author, I'll often say Stefan Zweig. But if that person were to come back and ask me at night, once it's dark and I'm more conscious of my thoughts, of the sounds of the world around me, it is Kafka, Zweig's fellow Austro-Hungarian, I would name.
What makes Kafka so great?
It is his sensitivity, his keen ability to perceive the world around him. His emotional intelligence, his almost prophetic ability to see into the future, to see the darkness of the second great European war of the 20th century looming on the horizon, fueled his writing with symbolism and darkness.
He was a depressive, to be sure, but that's putting a man-made label on a genius.
At times though I do wonder what, if he hadn't died of tuberculosis, Kafka would have died of — because it seems so unlikely that a man such as Kafka would have lived a full life. Such fragile conduits of genius rarely do.
Maybe the Nazis would have gotten him, maybe Stalin. But something tells me he wouldn't have even lasted that long.
His work has influenced countless artists after him. Murakami, who titled one of his most popular books Kafka on the Shore, isn't so shy about admitting this, and one needs only to watch a few minutes of "Twin Peaks" or "Mulholland Drive" to see the clear sway Kafka holds over the mind of David Lynch (Lynch, interestingly, is one of the only other auteurs to see his name transformed into an adjective, because when I watch something surreal, something outside of the way I perceive the world, it might be Kafkaesque, but it's also Lynchian).
Kafka famously ordered his friend Max Brod to burn all his writings upon his death. Brod didn't, of course, and woe if he had!
How many authors today write in a totally unoriginal way? How many, upon a reading a page of their work, could you identify?
Kafka is perhaps one of the most original writers ever to live. He's as melancholic as Céline, but not as cold, as dark as Dostoevsky, but more tortured.
This collection of stories, translated by Peter Wortsman, is superb. I don't speak German, the language Kafka wrote in — something that over time has likely not endeared him to his fellow Czechs — so I'm not capable of judging any translation of Kafka up against the original, but Wortsman's translations of Kafka's stories here are the best versions I've read in English.
While "Transformed" is the centerpiece of any Kafka collection, my two other favorite Kafka short stories are here too.
"In the Penal Colony" is chilling, equal parts medieval and hauntingly dystopian. The story tells of a traveler who visits an island nation where he is given a demonstration of a torture device by its operator.
The device inscribes the sentence, as in, the actual words of the sentence, onto the body of the condemned. That Kafka, who often writes of his being tortured by his writing, invents a medieval device that literally tortures its victim by writing on their skin is both wickedly funny and painfully bleak.
"The Hunger Artist," too, is one of the gems of this collection, taking as its subject a man whose "art" is fasting obscenely long lengths of time. Once a fixture at crowded city squares throughout Europe, his art has now fallen out of fashion. But he fasts regardless, spending ever more days without eating, to an audience of none.
Is it still art if nobody any longer recognizes it as such?
There are other stories here that didn't click with me. I wasn't a fan of "Investigations of a Dog" or "Josephine, Our Meistersinger, or the Music of Mice." Likewise, "From The Burrow" I all too quickly forgot. Even Kafka wasn't great all the time. Or perhaps I just wasn't ready for those stories yet. But the majority of this collection — and I certainly won't be reciting it all here — is deliriously good.
This isn't a collection of only short stories, several of Kafka's letters and essays are also here, including the sublime "A Writer's Quandary."
"Perhaps there are also different ways of writing, but I only know this one; at night, when fear keeps me from sleeping."
Nighttime was important to Kafka, and he is one of the only writers to recognize the night for what it was, not as a curtain pulled over the world, cloaking it in darkness, but as the world revealed, of that which lies behind thought and consciousness when the light of day has been extinguished to divulge what really lurks in the world, in the human mind.
But even those who haven't read him know something of him, are familiar with the term "Kafkaesque," even if, perhaps, they don't really know what it means.
"What's Kafkaesque," Frederick R. Karl, author of a biography on Kafka, says, "is when you enter a surreal world in which all your control patterns, all your plans, the whole way in which you have configured your own behavior, begins to fall to pieces, when you find yourself against a force that does not lend itself to the way you perceive the world."
Sound familiar? Indeed, when I look around, when I scan the news — and "scan" is really all I have it in me to do these days — "Kafkaesque" feels like the perfect word to describe our own times.
As such, have the stories of Franz Kafka ever been more relevant? Not for my money (not that I've got much).
If I'm asked, during the day, to name my favorite author, I'll often say Stefan Zweig. But if that person were to come back and ask me at night, once it's dark and I'm more conscious of my thoughts, of the sounds of the world around me, it is Kafka, Zweig's fellow Austro-Hungarian, I would name.
What makes Kafka so great?
It is his sensitivity, his keen ability to perceive the world around him. His emotional intelligence, his almost prophetic ability to see into the future, to see the darkness of the second great European war of the 20th century looming on the horizon, fueled his writing with symbolism and darkness.
He was a depressive, to be sure, but that's putting a man-made label on a genius.
At times though I do wonder what, if he hadn't died of tuberculosis, Kafka would have died of — because it seems so unlikely that a man such as Kafka would have lived a full life. Such fragile conduits of genius rarely do.
Maybe the Nazis would have gotten him, maybe Stalin. But something tells me he wouldn't have even lasted that long.
His work has influenced countless artists after him. Murakami, who titled one of his most popular books Kafka on the Shore, isn't so shy about admitting this, and one needs only to watch a few minutes of "Twin Peaks" or "Mulholland Drive" to see the clear sway Kafka holds over the mind of David Lynch (Lynch, interestingly, is one of the only other auteurs to see his name transformed into an adjective, because when I watch something surreal, something outside of the way I perceive the world, it might be Kafkaesque, but it's also Lynchian).
Kafka famously ordered his friend Max Brod to burn all his writings upon his death. Brod didn't, of course, and woe if he had!
How many authors today write in a totally unoriginal way? How many, upon a reading a page of their work, could you identify?
Kafka is perhaps one of the most original writers ever to live. He's as melancholic as Céline, but not as cold, as dark as Dostoevsky, but more tortured.
This collection of stories, translated by Peter Wortsman, is superb. I don't speak German, the language Kafka wrote in — something that over time has likely not endeared him to his fellow Czechs — so I'm not capable of judging any translation of Kafka up against the original, but Wortsman's translations of Kafka's stories here are the best versions I've read in English.
While "Transformed" is the centerpiece of any Kafka collection, my two other favorite Kafka short stories are here too.
"In the Penal Colony" is chilling, equal parts medieval and hauntingly dystopian. The story tells of a traveler who visits an island nation where he is given a demonstration of a torture device by its operator.
The device inscribes the sentence, as in, the actual words of the sentence, onto the body of the condemned. That Kafka, who often writes of his being tortured by his writing, invents a medieval device that literally tortures its victim by writing on their skin is both wickedly funny and painfully bleak.
"The Hunger Artist," too, is one of the gems of this collection, taking as its subject a man whose "art" is fasting obscenely long lengths of time. Once a fixture at crowded city squares throughout Europe, his art has now fallen out of fashion. But he fasts regardless, spending ever more days without eating, to an audience of none.
Is it still art if nobody any longer recognizes it as such?
There are other stories here that didn't click with me. I wasn't a fan of "Investigations of a Dog" or "Josephine, Our Meistersinger, or the Music of Mice." Likewise, "From The Burrow" I all too quickly forgot. Even Kafka wasn't great all the time. Or perhaps I just wasn't ready for those stories yet. But the majority of this collection — and I certainly won't be reciting it all here — is deliriously good.
This isn't a collection of only short stories, several of Kafka's letters and essays are also here, including the sublime "A Writer's Quandary."
"Perhaps there are also different ways of writing, but I only know this one; at night, when fear keeps me from sleeping."
Nighttime was important to Kafka, and he is one of the only writers to recognize the night for what it was, not as a curtain pulled over the world, cloaking it in darkness, but as the world revealed, of that which lies behind thought and consciousness when the light of day has been extinguished to divulge what really lurks in the world, in the human mind.
June 11, 2017
In this new translation of Kafka’s prose published by Archipelago Books last year, Peter Wortsman has chosen a wonderful selection of shorter writings that showcases the range of the author’s brilliance. Old favorites such as “The Metamorphosis,” translated in this collection by Wortsman as “Transformed” appear in the volume with fresh, updated language for a 21st century audience. For those who are new to Kafka’s writing, the inclusion of additional classic short pieces such as “The Penal Colony” and “A Report to an Academy” make this a perfect volume with which to be introduced to his writing.
For enthusiasts who are already devotees of Kafka, some surprising new translations of smaller pieces can also be found within the pages of Wortsman’s translation. Letters, aphorisms, and short stories that would today be classified as flash fiction are all included in this new volume. I especially enjoyed the short prose that Wortsman includes in order to highlight the different aspects of Kafka’s personal side—his sense of humor, his anxiety, his thoughts on writing and his loneliness. In his Afterword, Wortsman writes about his love of Kafka and his decision to attempt a translation of this legendary author:
Translating Kafka for me is a bit like looking back at a first love, an attachment saved from sentimentality and necrophilia by a corpus of work in need of no face-lifts or taxidermy to entice, still as alive and relevant as any musings of an elogquent insomniac committed to extreme particularity of expression. I give you these precious nuggets of a gold miner in the caves of the unconscious.
One of my favorite pieces that Wortsman translates, entitled “I can also Laugh,” appears to be in response to a comment made to Kafka by his fiancé Felice about his lack of a sense of humor. Kafka’s emphatic response to her begins:
I can also laugh, Felice, you bet I can, I am even known as a big laugher, even though in this respect I used to be much more foolhardy than I am now. It even happened that I burst out laughing —and how!—at a solemn meeting with our director— that was two years ago, but the incident has lived on as a legend at the institute.
Kafka goes on to describe in great detail how, having received a promotion at his job, was required to appear in front of the director of the insurance company in order to give thanks for his new position. Such an occasion was expected to have an atmosphere of solemnity but during the meeting Kafka developed a ranging case of the giggles. He tries to pretend that he is just coughing, but he begins laughing so hard that he can’t stop himself. It was fun to see that Kafka, whose writing is so often associated with feelings of existential angst, loneliness, and isolation actually had a good belly laugh every now and then:
The room went silent, and my laugh and I were finally recognized as the center of everyone’s attention. Whereby my knees trembled with terror, as I kept laughing, and my colleagues had no choice but to laugh along with me, though their levity never managed to reach the degree of impropriety of my long-repressed and perfectly accomplished laughter, and in comparison seemed rather sedate.
Three additional works of short prose that particularly attracted my attention in this volume were the ones dealing with Greek mythology: “The Silence of the Sirens”, “Prometheus”, and “Poseidon” all showcased Kafka’s ability to take elements of the fantastic and put a realistic and even humorous spin on them. Kafka images Odysseus chained to his mast with wax stuffed in his ears to avoid the alluring songs of the Sirens. But Kafka goes on to describe the Sirens as being silent when Odysseus passes by so the Greek hero looks rather ridiculous with his blocked-up ears. In “Prometheus”, Kafka images the hero chained to a rock with his liver being continually eaten by eagles; but how long can this really last? Kafka points out the absurdity of Prometheus’s punishment by concluding, “…the world grew weary of a pointless procedure. The gods grew weary, the eagles grew weary, the wounds closed wearily.”
My favorite of the three myth-based stories is the one that imagines the god Poseidon sitting at his desk under the waves and crunching numbers. Kafka presents us with a Poseidon whose job as god of the sea no one truly understands. Because he is so busy in his management position, he never gets to enjoy the sea over which he rules. Poseidon would love to find a new job, but what else is he really qualified to do? Kafka ironically and humorously concludes his story, “He liked to joke that he was waiting for the end of the world, then he’d find a free moment right before the end, after completing his final calculation, to take a quick spin in the sea.”
Wortsman concludes his translations with a series of notes that Kafka composed while very sick and unable to speak because of the pain he suffered due to his tuberculosis. The notes, entitled by Worstsman as “Selected Last Conversation Shreds,” are sad and tragic and show us the author’s painful last days:
To grasp what galloping consumption is: picture a bevel-edged stone in the idle, a diamond saw to the side and otherwise nothing but dried sputum.
—–
A little water, the pill fragments are stuck like glass shards in the phlegm.
—–
Might I try a little ice cream today?
—–
It is not possible for a dying man to drink.
—–
Lay your hand of my forehead a moment to give me courage.
Wortsman has put together and translated a truly enjoyable selection of Kafka’s prose that has wetted my appetite for more of the German-Jewish author’s writing.
For enthusiasts who are already devotees of Kafka, some surprising new translations of smaller pieces can also be found within the pages of Wortsman’s translation. Letters, aphorisms, and short stories that would today be classified as flash fiction are all included in this new volume. I especially enjoyed the short prose that Wortsman includes in order to highlight the different aspects of Kafka’s personal side—his sense of humor, his anxiety, his thoughts on writing and his loneliness. In his Afterword, Wortsman writes about his love of Kafka and his decision to attempt a translation of this legendary author:
Translating Kafka for me is a bit like looking back at a first love, an attachment saved from sentimentality and necrophilia by a corpus of work in need of no face-lifts or taxidermy to entice, still as alive and relevant as any musings of an elogquent insomniac committed to extreme particularity of expression. I give you these precious nuggets of a gold miner in the caves of the unconscious.
One of my favorite pieces that Wortsman translates, entitled “I can also Laugh,” appears to be in response to a comment made to Kafka by his fiancé Felice about his lack of a sense of humor. Kafka’s emphatic response to her begins:
I can also laugh, Felice, you bet I can, I am even known as a big laugher, even though in this respect I used to be much more foolhardy than I am now. It even happened that I burst out laughing —and how!—at a solemn meeting with our director— that was two years ago, but the incident has lived on as a legend at the institute.
Kafka goes on to describe in great detail how, having received a promotion at his job, was required to appear in front of the director of the insurance company in order to give thanks for his new position. Such an occasion was expected to have an atmosphere of solemnity but during the meeting Kafka developed a ranging case of the giggles. He tries to pretend that he is just coughing, but he begins laughing so hard that he can’t stop himself. It was fun to see that Kafka, whose writing is so often associated with feelings of existential angst, loneliness, and isolation actually had a good belly laugh every now and then:
The room went silent, and my laugh and I were finally recognized as the center of everyone’s attention. Whereby my knees trembled with terror, as I kept laughing, and my colleagues had no choice but to laugh along with me, though their levity never managed to reach the degree of impropriety of my long-repressed and perfectly accomplished laughter, and in comparison seemed rather sedate.
Three additional works of short prose that particularly attracted my attention in this volume were the ones dealing with Greek mythology: “The Silence of the Sirens”, “Prometheus”, and “Poseidon” all showcased Kafka’s ability to take elements of the fantastic and put a realistic and even humorous spin on them. Kafka images Odysseus chained to his mast with wax stuffed in his ears to avoid the alluring songs of the Sirens. But Kafka goes on to describe the Sirens as being silent when Odysseus passes by so the Greek hero looks rather ridiculous with his blocked-up ears. In “Prometheus”, Kafka images the hero chained to a rock with his liver being continually eaten by eagles; but how long can this really last? Kafka points out the absurdity of Prometheus’s punishment by concluding, “…the world grew weary of a pointless procedure. The gods grew weary, the eagles grew weary, the wounds closed wearily.”
My favorite of the three myth-based stories is the one that imagines the god Poseidon sitting at his desk under the waves and crunching numbers. Kafka presents us with a Poseidon whose job as god of the sea no one truly understands. Because he is so busy in his management position, he never gets to enjoy the sea over which he rules. Poseidon would love to find a new job, but what else is he really qualified to do? Kafka ironically and humorously concludes his story, “He liked to joke that he was waiting for the end of the world, then he’d find a free moment right before the end, after completing his final calculation, to take a quick spin in the sea.”
Wortsman concludes his translations with a series of notes that Kafka composed while very sick and unable to speak because of the pain he suffered due to his tuberculosis. The notes, entitled by Worstsman as “Selected Last Conversation Shreds,” are sad and tragic and show us the author’s painful last days:
To grasp what galloping consumption is: picture a bevel-edged stone in the idle, a diamond saw to the side and otherwise nothing but dried sputum.
—–
A little water, the pill fragments are stuck like glass shards in the phlegm.
—–
Might I try a little ice cream today?
—–
It is not possible for a dying man to drink.
—–
Lay your hand of my forehead a moment to give me courage.
Wortsman has put together and translated a truly enjoyable selection of Kafka’s prose that has wetted my appetite for more of the German-Jewish author’s writing.
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August 28, 2022No, I did not want freedom, just a way out.
December 30, 2018
For this new set of translations, Peter Wortsman has selected a wide range of Kafka's short prose, both classic and obscure. Wortsman's translations give a new perspective into the style of Kafka's writings, and effectively supports his selections of Kafka's more obscure and esoteric writings. Although some of the selections are better than others, the prose itself is the real treasure here and Wortsman has done an excellent job of translating it; the writings I was not familiar with were delightful, and the ones I knew seemed full of new life.
September 28, 2016
At first I thought this was a bad misfire – too many, too bitty little pieces of writing, that are generally left out of Kafka anthologies for obvious reasons. But slowly it built into the longer, more noted pieces – once we get to a survey of the writer's fictional offspring I was actually engaging with the better material that I had read before, and felt on safer ground. So a lot of classic writing is here, but the volume really could have done with a foreword or some explanatory text first, before dropping us in at the deep end with only a few decent phrases about the torture of trying to write to keep us afloat. By hiding the stories that are rightly famed, like this, the book doesn't do itself that much favour. You could also add the colloquialisms dropped into the translation (well, I grew up with the Muirs') and the oddity of retitling ''Metamorphosis'' (except for in the afterword, bizarrely) into that category. Luckily, Kafka adds a lot of plus points from a century away.
November 1, 2016
GNAB I received a free electronic copy of this collection from Netgalley and Archipelago Press in exchange for an honest review. Thank you, for sharing this work with me.
GN I have always enjoyed the flow of language that is unique to Kafka. As with some of his longer works, these excerpts and short stories flow through your mind like a neighborhood creek, little ripples here and there and a first sense of destination. I loved Josephine, Our Meistersinger, or the Music of Mice, though I have no idea where that was flowing. My favorite was Investigations of a Dog. and Selected Aphorisms. All were beautifully written and translated to maintain that Kafka flow. Thank you, Peter Wortsman, for that.
Pub date Sept 20, 2016
Publisher Archipelago Press
Not available for review on Amazon, B
&N Sept 20
pub date moved to November 1, 2016
GN I have always enjoyed the flow of language that is unique to Kafka. As with some of his longer works, these excerpts and short stories flow through your mind like a neighborhood creek, little ripples here and there and a first sense of destination. I loved Josephine, Our Meistersinger, or the Music of Mice, though I have no idea where that was flowing. My favorite was Investigations of a Dog. and Selected Aphorisms. All were beautifully written and translated to maintain that Kafka flow. Thank you, Peter Wortsman, for that.
Pub date Sept 20, 2016
Publisher Archipelago Press
Not available for review on Amazon, B
&N Sept 20
pub date moved to November 1, 2016
January 19, 2017
A very good new translation. Worstman's selection balances the canonical (Metamorphosis, Penal Colony, Academy) with some lesser-known selections from the diaries and notebooks, as well as parts of Kafka's earlier books, which... well, they're not as good as the major works.
The main thing is: Worstman reminded me why I loved Kafka so much when I was younger, while also making it much easier to see the dark humor in his writing than earlier translations.
The main thing is: Worstman reminded me why I loved Kafka so much when I was younger, while also making it much easier to see the dark humor in his writing than earlier translations.
March 21, 2018
This review originally published in Looking For a Good Book. Rated 4.5 of 5
I'm not sure if there's a term for fans of the works of Franz Kafka (Kafkaites? Kafkers?) but if there is one, I would proudly bear the label. In fact, I have an unusually large collection of books by and about Kafka, so a collection of 'selected prose' such as this is generally not new to me, but I welcome the opportunity ... or rather, the excuse ... to give these works another read.
There are many selected gems in this collection, including one of my favorite Kafka stories. I first read "The Hunger Artist" when I was in high school and it had a profound impact on me - both the ideas in the story, and the idea that a story could be conceived about this. Though I've read it a few times since high school, I was very glad to read it again.
Though I have "Josephine, Our Meistersinger, or the Music of Mice" in another collection (titled slightly differently), I didn't remember this, but it stands out now as one of my favorites of this collection.
"A Hybrid" was another story that I didn't remember (it may be titled "A Crossbreed" in other collections) but I made the note in this edition: "I love this opening!" Kafka begins the story:
Nearly all of Kafka's short stories are simply amazing and would likely take a reader by surprise for their insight and wit. But one only has to read some of his letters or noted thoughts to see this sharp mind was often making poignant observations. This becomes quite clear in the section of the book with the heading: "Selected Last Conversation Shreds."
If you think you know Franz Kafka, but all you really know is the basic story-line of "Metamorphosis" or perhaps the futility of The Trial, then I would encourage you to check out these short prose pieces. If you don't know Kafka, then this is a great way to see the creative mind at work and play.
This is highly recommended.
Looking for a good book? Konundrum: Selected Prose of Franz Kafka is a welcomed collection of some of Kafka's short works. It's high time we introduce this classic author to a new generation, and this collection could just do the trick.
I received a digital copy of this book from the publisher, through Edelweiss, in exchange for an honest review.
I'm not sure if there's a term for fans of the works of Franz Kafka (Kafkaites? Kafkers?) but if there is one, I would proudly bear the label. In fact, I have an unusually large collection of books by and about Kafka, so a collection of 'selected prose' such as this is generally not new to me, but I welcome the opportunity ... or rather, the excuse ... to give these works another read.
There are many selected gems in this collection, including one of my favorite Kafka stories. I first read "The Hunger Artist" when I was in high school and it had a profound impact on me - both the ideas in the story, and the idea that a story could be conceived about this. Though I've read it a few times since high school, I was very glad to read it again.
Though I have "Josephine, Our Meistersinger, or the Music of Mice" in another collection (titled slightly differently), I didn't remember this, but it stands out now as one of my favorites of this collection.
"A Hybrid" was another story that I didn't remember (it may be titled "A Crossbreed" in other collections) but I made the note in this edition: "I love this opening!" Kafka begins the story:
I have a curious creature, half cat, half lamb. A bequest from my father’s estate, it only really developed in my care, before it was much more lamb than cat. But now it’s half and half. Head and claws come from the cat, size and stature from the lamb; both bequeathed the glint and wildness in its eyes, the soft and snug coat of fur, the manner of its movements no less leaping than skulking. In sunshine on the windowsill it curls up and purrs, out in the meadow it runs around like crazy and you can hardly catch it. It flees from cats and tries to assault sheep. The roof gutter is its favorite runway in the moonlight. It can’t meow and is terrified of rats. It can lie in wait for hours beside the chicken stall, but never took advantage of an opportunity to pounce.
Nearly all of Kafka's short stories are simply amazing and would likely take a reader by surprise for their insight and wit. But one only has to read some of his letters or noted thoughts to see this sharp mind was often making poignant observations. This becomes quite clear in the section of the book with the heading: "Selected Last Conversation Shreds."
If you think you know Franz Kafka, but all you really know is the basic story-line of "Metamorphosis" or perhaps the futility of The Trial, then I would encourage you to check out these short prose pieces. If you don't know Kafka, then this is a great way to see the creative mind at work and play.
This is highly recommended.
Looking for a good book? Konundrum: Selected Prose of Franz Kafka is a welcomed collection of some of Kafka's short works. It's high time we introduce this classic author to a new generation, and this collection could just do the trick.
I received a digital copy of this book from the publisher, through Edelweiss, in exchange for an honest review.
December 21, 2016
It is easy to see why Kafka has the reputation that he has. This book was incredible. This is the first that I have read of Kafka's work, so I cannot compare it to other translations, but it was a clear, vibrant translation. I love how his stories reference no specific time or place, and feel like they could be in any setting. Also, his plots and premises are abstract. They are rooted in internal realism, but externally, completely absurd. Reading Kafka, for me, is like reading no other author.
October 21, 2020
I honestly though K would just end up dying. Without the ending, some can be found online but they’re all made up.
I think K would either be killed for breaking some stupid law, or there’s another village in there.
I think K would either be killed for breaking some stupid law, or there’s another village in there.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 5, 2024
When hoped-for comedy is received as hopeless tragedy, that’s only one more Konundrum in the selected prose of Franz Kafka.
September 12, 2016
I received this copy from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review
It is a long time since I have read any Kafka, and I had forgotten just how beautiful his writing is – and also how surreal. Imagine Dali as an author.
This collection runs from passages only a few lines long – such as The Trees – to full length novellas – such as “Transformed” (more commonly known as “Metamorphosis”), with every length in between. All look at the world in a unique Kafkaesque (yes – he started it!) way (e.g. “Poseidon” where the god of the sea is portrayed as a reluctant accountant) – and some are just plain weird (e.g. “The Bridge” where the narrator is a bridge!). As Kafka himself says: “What an incredible world I have in my head!”
In some of the earlier pieces he muses what it means to be a writer, and the compulsion to write to stave off insanity: “I do not mean to suggest that my life is better when I don’t write. Quite the contrary, it’s much worse and altogether unlivable and must surely end in madness” … “a writer who does not write is, admittedly, an aberrant being who courts madness”, and “since the existence of a writer is directly dependent on his desk, the writer who wishes to avoid madness must never absent himself from his desk, he must dig in with his teeth”. Psychologists would have a field-day with Kafka’s prose.
He turns his attention to philosophy, parables (“What all these parables really mean to say is just that the incomprehensible is incomprehensible, and that much we already knew”), to performance (“The Hunger Artist”, “First Sorrow”) and to music (“Josephine, Our Meistersinger, or the Music of Mice”).
Just because a piece is narrated in the first person, does not mean the narrator is a human – or even a living entity. Only Kafka would tell a story from the point of view of a bridge. In “A Report to an Academy” the narrator is an ape, who decides that “since for Hagenbeck & Co. apes belong pressed hard against a crate – well then, I decided to stop being an ape” and to mimic human behaviour. “As soon as I was passed on to my first animal tamer in Hamburg, I immediately fathomed my two options: zoo or cabaret. I did not hesitate. I resolved to apply all my strength of will to get into a variety show”. In “Transformed” it is a human who (involuntarily) becomes an animal: “Waking one morning from restless dreams, Gregor Samsa found himself transformed in his bed into a monstrous bug”.
In each of the stories, the macabre and unnatural are treated as understandable and normal, as though no further explanation is required. The bug of “Transformed” “despite his present sad and repulsive shape, … was still a family member, not to be treated as a hostile presence, but rather, based on the laws of familial responsibility, repugnance notwithstanding, to at the very least be tolerated”. The horrors of “The Penal Colony” are made so much more visceral by the matter-of-fact narration. The story appears to presage the evils of the Nazi death machine, though Kafka fortunately died before that came to pass.
His characters are extreme, and his descriptions as he sets a scene are incredibly vivid. The translation is superb and it seems as though Kafka himself has written in English.
This is a book you can dip into, read a couple of stories at a time. But be warned – it is addictive. It is also not conducive to a good night’s sleep – too many weird and wonderful fancies start to rattle around in your brain.
Konundrum is a real literary treat and will hopefully bring the exquisite prose of Kafka the acclaim in the English speaking world that it fully deserves.
It is a long time since I have read any Kafka, and I had forgotten just how beautiful his writing is – and also how surreal. Imagine Dali as an author.
This collection runs from passages only a few lines long – such as The Trees – to full length novellas – such as “Transformed” (more commonly known as “Metamorphosis”), with every length in between. All look at the world in a unique Kafkaesque (yes – he started it!) way (e.g. “Poseidon” where the god of the sea is portrayed as a reluctant accountant) – and some are just plain weird (e.g. “The Bridge” where the narrator is a bridge!). As Kafka himself says: “What an incredible world I have in my head!”
In some of the earlier pieces he muses what it means to be a writer, and the compulsion to write to stave off insanity: “I do not mean to suggest that my life is better when I don’t write. Quite the contrary, it’s much worse and altogether unlivable and must surely end in madness” … “a writer who does not write is, admittedly, an aberrant being who courts madness”, and “since the existence of a writer is directly dependent on his desk, the writer who wishes to avoid madness must never absent himself from his desk, he must dig in with his teeth”. Psychologists would have a field-day with Kafka’s prose.
He turns his attention to philosophy, parables (“What all these parables really mean to say is just that the incomprehensible is incomprehensible, and that much we already knew”), to performance (“The Hunger Artist”, “First Sorrow”) and to music (“Josephine, Our Meistersinger, or the Music of Mice”).
Just because a piece is narrated in the first person, does not mean the narrator is a human – or even a living entity. Only Kafka would tell a story from the point of view of a bridge. In “A Report to an Academy” the narrator is an ape, who decides that “since for Hagenbeck & Co. apes belong pressed hard against a crate – well then, I decided to stop being an ape” and to mimic human behaviour. “As soon as I was passed on to my first animal tamer in Hamburg, I immediately fathomed my two options: zoo or cabaret. I did not hesitate. I resolved to apply all my strength of will to get into a variety show”. In “Transformed” it is a human who (involuntarily) becomes an animal: “Waking one morning from restless dreams, Gregor Samsa found himself transformed in his bed into a monstrous bug”.
In each of the stories, the macabre and unnatural are treated as understandable and normal, as though no further explanation is required. The bug of “Transformed” “despite his present sad and repulsive shape, … was still a family member, not to be treated as a hostile presence, but rather, based on the laws of familial responsibility, repugnance notwithstanding, to at the very least be tolerated”. The horrors of “The Penal Colony” are made so much more visceral by the matter-of-fact narration. The story appears to presage the evils of the Nazi death machine, though Kafka fortunately died before that came to pass.
His characters are extreme, and his descriptions as he sets a scene are incredibly vivid. The translation is superb and it seems as though Kafka himself has written in English.
This is a book you can dip into, read a couple of stories at a time. But be warned – it is addictive. It is also not conducive to a good night’s sleep – too many weird and wonderful fancies start to rattle around in your brain.
Konundrum is a real literary treat and will hopefully bring the exquisite prose of Kafka the acclaim in the English speaking world that it fully deserves.
November 9, 2016
A new selection and translation of Kafka’s work, including some of his most well-known pieces, such as Metamorphosis, as well as some of his lesser-known writings. Definitely one for Kafka fans, but also useful for anyone new to him, as the range of writing on offer here is so varied – although always Kafkaesque, of course. An introductory essay, or at the very least, an introduction of some sort would have been very welcome, though the afterword is illuminating.
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