Život po Kafkovi

by Magdaléna Platzová

Román inspirovaný osudem Kafkovy snoubenky Felice Bauerové. Kdo vlastně byla Kafkova snoubenka Felice Bauerová, žena, kterou generace Kafkových fanoušků znají jen jako milovnici masitých pokrmů, těžkého nábytku a přesně nařízených hodinek?
Kdo se skrýval za vyrovnanou povahou a srdečným smíchem, o kterém existuje svědectví? A kam až v jejím životě dosáhl Kafkův stín? Literárním vědcům nikdy nestála za samostatné studium, o jejím životě po rozchodu s pražským spisovatelem se ví málo. Provdala se, měla dvě děti, emigrovala do Ameriky. Čtyřicet let opatrovala dopisy muže, který ji opustil.
Autorka začala pátrat po Feliciných stopách v Americe v roce 2010, kdy dosud žil její syn. Ze setkání s ním a jeho rodinou vznikla kniha, která nakonec není jen o Felici, ale i o dalších lidech, kteří byli Kafkovi nějakým způsobem blízcí a jejichž osudy jsou spojené s předválečnou Evropou a jejími troskami: Greta Blochová, Ernst Weiss, Max Brod nebo Salomon Shocken. Ten poslední v knize říká: „Kdybychom jen tehdy věděli, co nám osud chystá, a jak je vzácné to, co prožíváme, více bychom si toho vážili. Co nám teď zbývá než lovit třísky z potopené lodi.“

Genres: Historical Fiction, Fiction, Czech Literature, Literature, Audiobook

240 pages, Hardcover

Published June 3, 2022

About the author

Magdaléna Platzová is a Czech writer, journalist, playwright and translator. She studied at Georgetown University, Brockwood Park School and Charles University in Prague where she obtained master's degree in philosophy. In 2001-2004 she worked as a literary editor for Czech weekly newspaper Literární noviny. She currently writes cultural journalism for Prague-based weekly magazine Respekt.

Reviews

[Brina · Rating 4 out of 5]

The month of Tishrei is over, the joyousness of the holidays behind us. With life receding to the hustle and bustle of the work-weekend cycle, it is easy to experience a spiritual drop after living with the emotions of the festivals for nearly a month. I work in public schools, and there the students and staff are preparing for their upcoming holiday season whereas mine literally just ended. During lulls in the calendar year I browse the Jewish Book Council website, normally searching for quality nonfiction featuring subjects other than the Holocaust. On a recent visit to the page, a title caught my eye. People claim that Kafka was the greatest writer our people produced in the 20th century, but he died young. Most of his work was published posthumously, and few people claimed to actually know him besides frauds. After World War II, generations of Kafka scholars emerged, which after decades lead to a Czech writer choosing to bring his first fiancé to life. Kafka aficionados know of Felice Marasse neé Bauer from Letters to Felice. Magdaléna Platzová takes things a step further by creating a novel based on the character of Felice Bauer and her descendants. As we are the people of the book, with Kafka being one of our greatest contributions to society, I knew that Life After Kafka would be a must read for me. Joyfully, this novel exceeded my expectations.

In 1935 Moritz Marasse (named Richard in the novel) had the foresight to move his family from Geneva to Los Angeles. He had already gotten his family out of Berlin because as a businessman he already experienced laws against Jews. Richard had all but abandoned his religion, but his wife Felice desired some traditions for her children to hold onto and insisted that their son Joachim (real name Henry) study to become bar mitzvah. Richard begrudgingly agreed and did experience nachas from his son on the appointed day. Less than a year later, however, the family left for Geneva even though the Swiss would prove not to be kind to the Jews either. Geneva was but a stop; the family would settle in Los Angeles where Felice’s sister lived, and Richard could somehow continue his international business with a partner situated in France. Felice left behind many secrets, ones her family would not discover for many years after the move. The secret of secrets was her relationship with Franz Kafka, a man she never stopped loving but knew it would be impossible to marry. Richard was a marriage for money, convenience, and the prospect of children, but Kafka was the love of her life, her bashert. Spoken about to her friend Grete Bloch in whispers, the children never knew of their mother’s life with Kafka until later in life. At this point, he became the ghost in the room, a man whose memories Felice chose to keep secret until her old age.

Magdalena Platzová grew up in the Czech Republic, where Kafka was revered as a native son. She eventually moved to Lyon, France, where she conducted the bulk of research for this book, which included interviews with Joachim aka Henry before his death as well as his daughter Leah and grandson Joel. Platzová included excerpts of letters from Franz to Felice in the book as well as inserting herself into chapters as she conducted her research, bridging the gap between truth and fiction. The narrative occurs in both 1950s Los Angeles as Felice reminisces and Joachim builds a life for himself as a psychoanalyst in New York with forays into the 21st century when Platzová interviews the family members. She cited jealousy from Joachim, who granted her limited time because Kafka was the one subject the brought malice to his eyes. In reality he could have been jealous of the life his mother had before she married, a life where she was young, in love, and uninhibited by children. It was he who encouraged his mother to sell Schocken publications his mother’s letters from Kafka; at that point in her life she was widowed with no pension and could use the money, regardless if Kafka meant for anyone to see their correspondence or not. I view Joachim as a selfish man who turned his back to religion and his mother’s desires. His daughter and her son were much more forthcoming and accommodating to Platzová, and it is through her interviews with them that she crafted Felice’s character, without whose trust and helpfulness the book could not have been written.

In Los Angeles, Felice and her sister Else provide for themselves following Richard’s death. They learn massage therapy and later open a bakery selling old world pastries and later open a crochet shop as well. In the 1950s women stayed home, but these older women went to work and remained self sufficient. During this time in her life, Felice dreamed of Franz and how he would have loved the fresh air of the Pacific coast. She imagined taking rides with him in her blue convertible, through orange and mango groves, and up into the mountains. The climate would have cured him better than any sanitarium, and she told him so in her dreams. Felice means joy, but by harboring secrets that continued through generations, it appeared to me that Felice Bauer was only happy in her thoughts about Kafka, the one time when she would not have to share him with the world. Her sadness trickled through the generations and left Joachim a bitter old man. Perhaps, Felice should have married Franz Kafka and let history take its course, but that chain of events did not occur, Felice choosing children over life with a starving writer. Thankfully, the world begrudgingly got to read about this courtship in Kafka’s letter, crafted in his brilliant mind for all to experience.

I have admittedly never read The Trial, the Castle, or any of Kafka’s magnificent works. For many years I have experienced a mental block with classics more than sixty years old. Perhaps it is the writing style or maybe that I can not relate to the world in which the book was written. By shutting myself off millennia of books is limiting so that is a challenge to myself in upcoming years to truly make myself into a person of the book. I would be remiss if I did not laud the impeccable translation by Alex Zucker. A translation can make or break a book, and here the words flow so it is remarkable that this is a work in translation. Colum McCann calls Life After Kafka a “powerful, kaleidoscopic literary novel.” The writing transported me to both interwar Europe and mid century Los Angeles, times in history where the possibilities seemed endless. Going into a novel blindly, I never know where my reading will leave me. Magdalena Platzová might be the Czech Republic’s Colum McCann. Her writing wowed me and fiction writers do not do that often. I was happy, joyful, to find out that more of her work has been translated into English; she is an author I will be revisiting, one who helped me get over the letdown after a joyous month of holidays.

4.5 stars

[Jazzy Lemon · Rating 5 out of 5]

Kafka's Letters to Felice introduced us to his fiancée, and this historical novel fleshes her out. A bit over the top in places, but overall quite an engaging read. Thanks to NetGalley for the ARC/audiobook.

[štěpánka · Rating 3 out of 5]

Moc se mi líbil styl a jazyk knihy. Vykreslení postav mě vtáhlo do příběhu, ale spoustu věcí i právě postav nedorostlo do ucelené podoby - tak si vlastně nejsem jistá, co si z této knihy odnést.

[Jimgosailing · Rating 4 out of 5]

“New York, October 15, 1975

Dear Mr. Canetti:

I read your book about Franz Kafka and my mother, Felice* née Bauer. I wish I had never gotten hold of it. Unfortunately there is always some friend who comes along and hastens to inform me of the latest achievements in Kafkology or is it Kafkogrophy, which evidently, judging from the number of titles, is a highly profitable business. I will not dwell here on the personality of Franz Kafka. I have nothing more to add from what you already accurately describe in your book…. whether he was a great writer. I honestly cannot judge. what I know beyond a doubt is that he was a neurotic, a masochist, and, in regard to his relationship relationships with women, a sadist as well.

Every one of the letters that you quote from so extensively would, in my opinion, be worthy of psychiatric evaluation, and any one of them would have been reason enough for my mother to break up with him as quickly as possible. why she did not I truly have no idea; I have not yet had an opportunity to explore this aspect of my mother’s personality. I expect the fashion of the times may have played a role, an echo of fin de siècle decadence. my mother adored Strindberg, who, as you will admit, is also quite morbid in some respects.

But even I only found out about this love of hers from Kafka’s letters when I read them along with everyone else after my mother’s death. my parents were from the old school and maintained a certain distance from me and my sister. we knew very little about their inner our lives, but enough that I feel it necessary to object in the strongest possible terms to the way you dealt with my mother in your rash and sensationalistic book. Already the false pseudo scandalous revelation on the opening page betrays the superficiality of your approach: ‘so long last we know the name of the woman who now has been hidden behind the initial ‘F.’

Dear sir, if you had actually cared to find out, you could’ve known my mother’s full name years ago, even without the use of any ‘detective methods.’ you had only the readily available biography of Kafka written by Max Brod, of whom I also have no great opinion, but at least one cannot deny his goodwill, and, at least as it relates to my mother, a certain sensitivity. My mother was a woman of many talents. She leaned more toward a practical orientation, a no nonsense, person as they say in this country. She was always deeply influenced by art, literature, theater, and music as well. My father, a banker by profession, was an excellent pianist, and had circumstances in his youth permitted. He would’ve devoted himself to Music. Art was one of the charms with with which Kaka impressed my mother, he was after all a published author, as people say nowadays that certainly played its part. My mother did not receive a formal education at the age of 15. She had to leave school and take on employment by her own efforts, working her way from the lowly position of typist all the way up to head of sales. But she always took great pleasure in reading, and enjoyed being enlightened.

When we fled in the 30s first from Berlin to Geneva, and then to America, instead of valuables, she took books with her. She had a special collection of volumes dedicated to her by Kafka, which she kept grouped together, some 60 titles in all. there was even a copy of the Bible among them. After her death, I sold them to the Fischer publishing house in Germany. It was the only money I made on Kafka at a time when every Tom, Dick and Harry was making a killing on him. My mother was very emotional, a warm and generous woman. when she was still single, she cared for war orphans at the Jewish home in Berlin and even after she was married and had a family, She maintained close relationships with them. Her girls would come to visit and she helped them and all sorts of ways. She was enterprising, resourceful, optimistic, and cheerful. She refused to let anything break her anyone who knew her couldn’t help but love her she had a talent for organization and business in the end, it was she who supported the family after our immigration to America especially the last 12 years after my father suffered a heart attack and could no longer work. I too did my best to help, of course too whatever I was able to, tutoring other students, getting scholarships.

my mother, took courses and massage and hairdressing and opened her own beauty salon baked and sold cookies with her sister, eventually expanding the range products they offered. then she opened a yarn store selling knitting supplies and notions, but it never I repeat never would’ve crossed my mother‘s mind to try to make money from funds cuffs letters, which she kept hidden away in secret for 40 years. I myself only came to know if their existence from a relative when I was 18. Before then, I had no idea that my mother had a relationship with anyone named Kafka. I only knew his name from the spines on the books we had at home, which I had given a cursory glance, but they had never captured my interest. Brod’s biography of Kafka published in Prague before the war didn’t find its way into my hands until the 50s when it was reissued in expanded form in Germany. Like everything else that had to do with Kafka, I didn’t discuss it with my mother but I do know for certain that she read Brod’s biography, as well as Kafka’s diaries and Letters to Milena. what she thought of them, I have no idea, I can only guess.

You, sir, wrote that my mother had the heart to ‘sell the letters.’ in this way, you indirectly accuse her of being insensitive and self-serving, even mocking her. how heroic taking swipes from a safe distance at a woman about whom you know not one whit, and who cannot defend herself how could anyone know anything about my mother when the recipient of her letters so carefully destroy them whereas she preserved every postcard, every telegram even letters that didn’t belong directly to her and weren’t written by Kafka, but touched on their relationship in someway like the letters Kafka‘s mother Julie wrote to my grandmother, Anna I’ve often wondered why she saved everything so meticulously. it’s true, My mother was very fastidious: every scrap and sheet of paper had its place with her, carefully labeled and classified. It was a habit, a passion of sorts. Probably one that she took home with her from the office.

Reading Kafka’s books it even occurred to me that this fascination, one might call it, with modern bureaucracy was something the two of them had in common: yet each approached it from a totally different perspectives, my mother from the standpoint of efficiency and reason, though every passion also exposes the irrationality within itself, and Kafka from the standpoint of madness, which did nothing to change the fact that he was a very capable clerk, as all of his contemporaries attested to.

But I don’t mean to dabble in your profession. You are the one who’s here to interpret Kafka, I’ll stick to my mother. It also occurred to me that that maybe for her that bundle of letters was sort of a legal document, whether a defense or an indictment who knows; probably both. But either way it had to be complete. as I already said, she never spoke to me about Kafka and their relationship, even when I was an adult.

But from the way she clung to the letters, it was obvious it wasn’t a dead issue for her, that unhappy five years period shaped the rest of her life in a fundamental way. For most of her life, my mother enjoyed complete anonymity; nobody took any interest in her. Nobody knew who she was. It wasn’t until a few years after the war when Kafka began to get famous and a mad dash was unleashed every word he ever wrote that she began to worry, and rightfully so. that some information she regarded as intimate might be made public. She had made up her mind to destroy the letters before she died and she truly wanted to go through with it, but she couldn’t work up the courage so she kept putting it off. In the end she did dispose of some of them, which I know not from my mother, who at the time suspected me of conspiring with Schocken but from her best friend. she clung to Kafka’s letters with an incredible stubbornness, and it wasn’t easy getting her to sell them.

Mr. Schocken and Max Brod spent years trying to persuade her; ultimately she gave in. Though not for the money, although she was sick and in need of funds, but at a certain point, she realized that she wouldn’t be able to destroy the letters as she had planned. and if she died, she would lose control over them. I explicitly threatened to sell her letters once she passed away and, the truth of the matter is, I coerced her into selling them. her pangs of conscience at betraying Kafka (no one could ever convince her that it wasn’t a betrayal) were presumably mitigated by Schocken’s promise that he would donate the letters to the national library in Jerusalem after they were published. Alas, Mr. Schocken and passed away in 1959, a year before my mother, so he was unable to honor his promise. whether or not his heirs kept his commitment, I have no idea. I would’ve hoped they would’ve let us know.

I am not happy to return to all this and would just soon have forgotten it, but I must stand up for my mother, if not in front of your readers then at least in front of you. No, my mother did not, as you wrote, have the heart to sell Kafka’s letters. Not only that, and I say this only to you with shame and great pain, but I believe the loss of those keepsake killed her prematurely. My mother had actually been dying since 1955. She suffered her first stroke with only minor consequences in 1953 in 1956 she had another stroke, but even after that, she still had a partial recovery and came home from the hospital my mother had had a very hardy constitution, but she was no longer able to live on her own, so I convinced her to leave LA and move in with us in New York. She had been with us several months when she suffered the third fatal blow from which she never recovered. She was hospitalized in rye for a year and a half. We couldn’t keep her at home since she needed constant care. in those final months, she was unable to speak or move, though she was lucid and understood everything; she was literally a prisoner in her own body. What must’ve been going through her mind. That, to be frank, is the hell I inhabit on nights I cannot sleep. An efficient businesswoman,eh? a woman without a heart.

In Max Brod’s melodramatic book about Kafka, I learned that Kafka too was unable to speak at the end of his life due to tuberculosis in his throat. However, unlike my mother, At least he was able to write as long as he could still hold a pen. so you see there is some hint of symmetry; I wouldn’t call it justice (the meaning of which escapes us, of course).

I end with the wish that the facts I have shared with you here will burden your conscience enough to ensure that you will be more cautious in your fabrications next time. I cannot write either ‘respectfully’ or ‘cordially’ let alone ‘yours’ so you will have to make do with my signature.

Joachim M.

[wow! What an opening missive! This opening makes the whole book worth reading. Am listening to the audiobook narrated by Christa Lewis and she is excellent - not only speaking accented English, but she finds the right tone conveying the indignation, thrusting the words forward when appropriate, but expressing sorrow, shame, and loss. ]

New York, May 18, 1987

Dear Mr. Kennedy

Consider this of mine and addendum to the letter I wrote you 12 years ago to which I never received a reply. As you may recall, I wrote you about the promise Zaman Schocken made to my mother, which was what finally convinced her to entrust her letters to him, namely, that he would donate the manuscripts of Kafka’s letters to the national library in Jerusalem. I have just learned from an article in the paper that my mother‘s letters were auctioned off Sotheby’s in New York for $605,000 reportedly a record breaking some at least so far as manuscript go. Over a half million, sir. and they gave my mother 8000; the deal of the century, don’t you think? The buyer was neither a library nor an archive. where would a place like that come up with that kind of money ?it was a private party whose identity was not revealed. The letters vanished into a private safe, maybe forever, so that’s the end of the matter. They cheated my mother, even in death; such a disgrace. She was absolutely right to want to destroy Kafka’s letters; pity she didn’t succeed.

Regards,

Joachim M.
. . . .

1935 Geneva: “They dined on stuffed quail and drank champagne for their farewell supper that evening. Herman Eisner believed in German humanism and democracy. And was convinced that Hitler and his gang of convicted criminals, as he referred to them were not to be taken seriously. no one could force dictatorship on the nation that had given birth to Goethe and if anyone wanted to try, they would have to be a higher caliber than an uneducated psychopath with an inferiority complex. Having deftly assemble the diagnosis of the Führer, Herman predicted that soon he too would end up in Grunewald . They all laughed over their quail. as late January 1933, Herman wrote an essay for newspaper in Berlin about the invincibility of German democracy. less than two months, later on March 6 just before midnight, he was pounding on their door in Geneva. He had come to apologize this. This evening they dined on Chicken soup with dumplings, then stuffed veal…

1953: Los Angeles - “ He wrote the first letter on a typewriter, still feeling shy. The second one he wrote by hand. it was Felice’s first look at the writing in a long time. She knew it well. She felt drawn too and repulsed by it at the same time, like someone you loved who betrayed you. the bold strokes of the A impatiently crossed at waist level, the little tail flapping from the edge of the capital W, the L in the words, Libre and Leben, bent forward like a falling man head bowed to his chest. The paper surface was a tad rough to the touch and in the spots where the pen had pressed down hard, she could feel the ink. The poison of those letters.. . . .

1955: Musso and Frank, Los Angeles: “have you noticed how friendships in exile take on a different dimension? Our friends become our homeland. They are the only witnesses to what was. Then once they’re gone, well,…”

“ and Kafka is a fool as you have insisted ever since you secretly read his letters. And yet you don’t advise that I leave him. In fact just The opposite, I can still hear you as if it were today p, you might yet be able to make something of him, just wait till you have children, but for now hold onto to him and squeeze what you can out of him. You’ll figure it out my girl you can’t be too choosy your age you aren’t exactly a beauty… you forgot to mention the disgrace mother, it’s no secret in Berlin, but perhaps it is in Prague: our disgrace which father and Anna and your precious ? brought on us. Franz thought I was being greedy. What did I need so much money for? why did I work as a private stenographer? after my job at a firm every day; what was I supposed to tell him mother. That I needed to earn more than my salary because my father ran off with his mistress , my sister had an illegitimate child , and my brother embezzled a heap of money from his boss!outstanding bunch those Bauers. but then again you didn’t like Grubert either, though he didn’t hide crazy letters and had gobs of money.

2020 Lyon: Felice, she thought, what a pretty name, Felicity was even nicer. If she ever had a little girl maybe she would call her that; Felicity meant happiness, right?

‘in sleep souls communicate; awake bodies separate.’ wrote the Taoist Master Wong.

2000 New York: isn’t it strange how the way that others look at us depends on our appearance and how easily looks can deceive? those two white apparently Jewish children who just walked past the bench with their black nanny, undoubtedly saw just another old man possessed of the usual attributes, cane, white hair, spectacles p, who stood out from the anonymous ranks of similar old men, perhaps only in the degree of his elegance. little children are hardly equipped to judge that sort of thing, his love of fine clothes and shoes was a trait he had inherited from his mother. If Only they could’ve seen inside behind the wrinkled, creased forehead into his Batiste shirt covered chest through his coat of fine English wool. old man? hardly! he was a boy 10 years old at most…

Do you go to temple?
No.
Why not?
if you ask me, Mr. Applebaum the temple oughta be knocked down: churches, synagogues, mosques, every last one of them. the evil that organized religion has done in the world, and continues to do to this day, can never be balanced out by any speck of good it might bring. That’s the conclusion I’ve come to. in the end, evil will always prevail. That’s just how it is when people have power, and religion and power go hand-in-hand. every man for himself, I say. Though believe me I get it our longing to fit into belong to something is incredibly strong. I wish I had someone to protect me too when I can’t sleep at night and clearly the illusion that there is a God who cares about us will always be more attractive than accepting that we’re just a lonely island of consciousness, awash and a sea of darkness.
so you don’t even pray ?
Praying is For the weekend and unfortunate. It just makes you feel a little bit better that’s all.
and your children?
I raise them to be free thinkers.

. . . . .

From an internet summary: Life after Kafka is a historical novel that reimagined the life of Felice Bauer, Franz Kafka‘s one time fiancé focusing on her experiences, fleeing the Nazis in building a new life in America while also exploring the lasting impact of her connection to Kafka through his letters. the book blends fact and fiction following Bauer from 1930s Berlin post-war New York and incorporates the authors own research including interview interviews with Bauer’s descendants to give a voice to a woman overshadowed by Kafka’s literary legacy. It is a story of survival, memory and the challenge of forging an identity separate from a famous figure.

Meta fictional elements: Platzová includes herself in the narrative, detailing her research and interviews with Bauer’s son Henry (renamed Joachim in the book)”



*Felice pronounced Fe-Lee-say

[Petr Š. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Překvapivě dobré. Z knih, co jsem si po druhém pivu vybral v Knihkopci, asi nejlepší. Napůl skutečnost, zpola fikce, skákající časem tam a zpět jako zajíc. Každá kapitola je uvozena rokem a místem. O Kafkovi není v té knížce vůbec nic, což je na ní úplně nejlepší. A zároveň ho tam jasně tušíte. Smím-li vykrást Cimrmanovu teorii solipsismu, tím, že píše o všem, co není Kafka, tak ta velká černá nepojmenovaná díra uprostřed, na kterou je všechno napojeno, to je právě on.

[Johanna Berger · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sie hieß Felice Marasse, lebte in Berlin, Genf, Kalifornien und New York. Viel besser bekannt ist sie unter dem Namen Felice Bauer (1887-1960). Zweimal war sie mit Franz Kafka verlobt. Hunderte Briefe gingen während der fünfjährigen Beziehung zwischen Prag und Berlin hin und her. Ihre Briefe an Kafka gibt es nicht mehr, seine sind weltberühmt. In der Sekundärliteratur liest man, er habe ihre Briefe vernichtet. Vielleicht war es aber ganz anders. Vielleicht erbat sie ihre Briefe zurück. Das kann sich die Autorin des außergewöhnlichen biographischen Romans „Leben nach Kafka“ jedenfalls vorstellen.
Die Briefe verbinden die Figuren der Romans miteinander. Im Mittelpunkt stehen Felice, ihr Ehemann Robert Marasse (in Wirklichkeit Moritz), die beiden Kinder. Daneben gibt es die Freundin Grete Bloch, Kafkas Freund Max Brod, den Schriftsteller Ernst Weiß, den Verleger Salman Schocken und einen mysteriösen angeblichen Sohn Kafkas aus einer Liebschaft mit Grete Bloch. „Das Gift dieser Briefe“, heißt es öfters. Die Vergangenheit lässt sie auch im Exil nicht los.
8000 Dollar hat sie letztendlich bekommen. Bald dringend gebraucht für die medizinische Behandlung nach mehreren Schlaganfällen. Nach dem Tod des Verlegers Schocken verkauften seine Erben die Manuskripte entgegen den Verträgen bei Sotheby’s für 605 000 Dollar. Vielleicht hat sie ja ein paar Briefe für sich zurückbehalten. Die Autorin legt es dem Sohn so in den Mund.
Platzová schreibt keinen herkömmlichen historischen Roman. Sie stellt zwar reale Figuren in einen fiktionalen Kontext, erfindet Szenen wie man es aus anderen biographischen Romanen kennt. Was den Roman aber zu einem besonderen Lese-Erlebnis macht, ist die bemerkenswerte Erzählweise. Die Autorin verwendet immer wieder Originalzitate (abgesetzt durch Kursivschrift) und lässt die Leser an ihren persönlichen Erlebnissen mit der Familie Marasse und an ihren Recherchen zum Roman teilhaben. Und das ist ebenso spannend wie die Lebensgeschichte der Felice Bauer „nach Kafka“.
Auf der Empfehlungsliste „Bayerns beste Independent Bücher 2025“ (Auszeichnung des Freistaats Bayern für herausragende Neuerscheinungen unabhängiger Verlage)
Aus dem Tschechischen übersetzt von Kathrin Janka.
Kleine Nachbemerkung am Rande: Schade, dass der Text im Korrektorat nicht ganz sorgfältig gelesen wurde.

Ausführlicher Beitrag auf www.kultursalon.blog

[Oleksandra Kryvonos · Rating 3 out of 5]

Це роман про «тінь» генія. Платзова побудувала роман як баг��тошаровий пазл: глави постійно змінюються, даючи голос то самій Феліції Бауер, то її сину Йоахіму, то подрузі Греті Блох, а іноді — самій авторці, яка описує свої розкопки цієї історії в наші дні.

Для розуміння драми важливо знати контекст, який у книзі розкривається поступово. Феліція була заручена з Кафкою двічі, і обидва рази він розривав ці стосунки. Поки в листах до неї він міг бути ніжним, у своїх щоденниках Франц писав про неї досить жорсткі речі. Але справжній вузол затягується навколо Грети Блох — подруги Феліції, яку та сама ж і попросила стати посередницею в їхньому складному листуванні з Кафкою. У результаті Франц почав залицятися до Грети, і Платзова розвиває цю лінію далі.

Якщо говорити про мої особисті враження, то вони залишилися досить суперечливими:
Брак об’ємності: Попри таку густоту фактів, мені особисто не вистачило «живого» в персонажах. Вони часто здаються лише функціями, покликаними проілюструвати ідею «прокляття Кафки».

Слабкість конфлікту: Мені забракло внутрішньої динаміки. Хоча авторка й наполягає на «травмі поколінь», іноді здається, що цей конфлікт дещо штучно натягнутий на реальну біографію.

Парадокс психоаналізу: Дуже іронічним виглядає образ сина Йоахіма. Ставши успішним психоаналітиком у Нью-Йорку, він професійно допомагав іншим розбиратися з їхніми травмами, проте так і не зміг (чи не схотів) розплутати вузол таємниць власної матері. ВІн найбільше "постраждав".

Це цікава спроба поєднати факт і фікцію, але в цьому балансі для мене особисто ідеї перемогли людей. Книга варта уваги як літературне дослідження, але як художній роман вона залишила відчуття дистанції.

Більше книжкового: https://t.me/knygonos

[Jill · Rating 2 out of 5]

I think this book might be best read and not listened to as an audiobook. I often found myself confused or unsure of who was speaking, what was going on, who people were, where we were physically and in time, etc. Also, I felt like the summary was decently interesting, but after finishing this I feel like this story included a lot of nothing; I was waiting for some juicy story about Kafka and Bauer to come out or something, but found myself feeling let down when nothing was uncovered. Overall, I’m not quite sure this one hit the mark so I’m not confident that I would recommend this to others.

[Andreea · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.25 stars

I received an audiobook in exchange for my honest review. Thank you to NetGalley and HighBridge Audio for the opportunity to read and review this book.

I was curious about this novel, unfortunately it did not captivated me as much as I was hoping it will. I couldn't connect with it and I did not feel like there is a particular conflict in this novel - there are a couple, introduced at odd places in the book, but there was nothings to capture my attention.

The novel follows Kafka's former fiancée in an attempt to flesh her out more than his letters did.

[Nikki Cudnik · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was an incredibly interesting read. I have read Letters to Felice and when I saw this audio book available I jumped at the chance to listen. First the narrator was fantastic, there were a lot of character to keep track of and a lot of different time frames as well, but she gave each character their own voice that made it much easier to track. If you have read Letters to Felice I highly recommend, if you haven’t I recommend both .

[Benedict · Rating 3 out of 5]

Rating would be 3.5 stars if I could give that. Clearly a lot of detailed research went into finding out more about Felice Bauer and Grete Bloch, but I wasn’t totally convinced by the choice to insert chapters about how the research was done. A slightly awkward intrusion by the writer into an otherwise empathetic narration - though I admit those chapters do add further depth to the characterisation of the still-living family members.

[Cheryl Sokoloff · Rating 5 out of 5]

I actually listened to the audiobook.

Excellent.

[Debi Coish · Rating 2 out of 5]

Upper echelon escape from Nazi Germany. Of course, their lives left behind - but a level of ease (as miserable and hard as it was) so much greater than the horrors of the masses.

[Mary · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's interesting how I find books to read. This story is well researched, very well written and another introspective into the terror surrounding WWII and the hatred of the Jews.

[Jamie · Rating 3 out of 5]

kinda random and weird but pretty good

[Denisa Ballová · Rating 3 out of 5]

Franz Kafka nepatrí medzi mojich obľúbených autorov. Prečítala som niekoľko jeho kníh - Proces v jednu daždivú jeseň v Bratislave aj Premenu vo francúzštine potom, čo som ju našla v antikvariáte v Lyone. Nefascinovali ma jeho príbehy, skôr som s nimi upadala do zvláštnej melanchólie, ktorú som si nevedela vysvetliť.

Nebudem sa sporiť ohľadne jeho talentu, no viac ako jeho diela ma zaujímali tí, ktorí sa dostali do jeho blízkosti. Magdaléna Platzová vo svojej poslednej knihe približuje ľudí, ktorí boli pre Kafka dôležití. Sústredí sa predovšetkým na Felice Bauerovú, s ktorou bol dvakrát zasnúbený, ale neoženil sa s ňou. Namiesto toho mal pomer s jej kamarátkou Gretou Blochovou. Tá ešte pred vojnou tvrdila, že mala s Kafkom dieťa.

Platzová nepíše chronologicky, skôr skladá po kúskoch osudy, ktoré sa prepojili s Kafkovým. Okrem Bauerovej a Blochovej je to samozrejme tiež Max Brod, ktorý sa postaral o to, aby sme o Kafkovi dnes vedeli, pretože nezničil jeho diela tak, ako mu sľúbil. V knihe takisto vystupuje Salman Schocken, ktorý ich po druhej svetovej vydával. Pričinil sa takisto o to, že si môžete prečítať listy, ktoré Kafka napísal Felice. Život po Kafkovi je vlastne o týchto listoch, ktoré Bauerová 40 rokov skrývala, aby sa ich nakoniec vzdala a predala ich Schockenovi.

“Všimla jste si, jak přátelství v exilu nabývají jiných proporcí? Naši přátelé se stávají naší vlastí, jsou jedinými svědky toho, co bylo.”

Platzová miestami píše až poeticky. Unesie nás do čias, keď sa Európa borila pod ťarchou vojny, zoberie nás aj do obdobia po nej. Pátra po tom, čo sa stalo s Felice Bauerovou, Maxom Brodom aj Ernstom Weissom. A odhaľuje to, čo by si asi iní súčasní autori/ky netrúfli.

“Kdybychom jen tehdy věděli, co nám osud chystá a jak je vzácné to, co prožíváme, viďte? Více bychom si toho vážili. Co nám teď zbývá než lovit třísky z potopené lodi.”

[Marek Hnatiak]

Nějak moc vypravěčů. Možná téma vykořenění je tam díky životu autorky dobře akcentované. Ale nabízí se porovnání s Hellou, u které i takto zpětně opět nevycházím z úžasu.

[Gigli · Rating 2 out of 5]

T dvě hvězdičky jsou trochu krutý, ale pak už mě ta knížka celkem rozčilovala.
Přišla mi strašně zbytečná.

Začalo to jako standardní historický román, což mi přišlo fajn. Chtěla jsem se dozvědět, jak žila Kafkova dívka po Kafkovi. Určitě to byl zajímavý život, protože v podstatě každý v týhle době měl v tom kolotoči dějin svůj zajímavý příběh.

Jenže jsem se nedozvěděla v podstatě nic moc a ještě se tam protínaly tři linie - románové postavy, reálné postavy, na kterých jsou založené románové postavy, autorka, která pátrá a píše tuhle knihu.

Navíc postavy mi přišly celkem plochý a působilo to na mě, že v podstatě jediná zajímavá věc v životě Kafkova děvčete, byl ten Kafka. Přišlo mi to k tý pani dost nefér.

[Steklina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Kniha (trochu se zdráhám použít slovo román) sleduje několik dějových linek: autorčino pátrání po Felici Bauerové, osudy samotné Felice a osudy jiných osob spojených s Kafkou. První linka byla nezajímavá a šlo vlastně o backstage informace k vědeckému bádání. Život Felice po rozchodu s Kafkou byl dost fádní a rozhodně to chtělo trochu víc literární šťávy. Nejzajímavější, a to i z pohledu informační přínosnosti, byly osudy dalších Kafkových souputníků a osob ovlivňujících jeho pověst. Takže celkem za pěkné tři hvězdičky.

[Alexandra Drozdová · Rating 3 out of 5]

Námět jistě otevíral potenciál pompézního provedení, kterým se ale autorka nevydala. To samo o sobě hodnotím spíše pozitivně. Hůř se mi ale vyrovnává se ztracenem, do kterého v knize příběhy Kafkových “přeživších” povětšinou vyšuměly, v zachycených fragmentech se jednotlivé postavy chvílemi rozplývaly tak, že bylo těžké orientovat se v nich; vytvořit si k nim vztah pak takřka možno nebylo.
Možná to byl záměr, netroufám si soudit.
Nicméně krásně a sugestivně psáno.
Hodnocení je spíš 3,5.

[Parkelj · Rating 2 out of 5]

Kniha o Felici Bauerové a několika dalších lidech z okolí Franze Kafky. Jde o částečnou fikci, přičemž jako autentické jsou označeny jen citace textů, kterých je (obsahově) v knize málo. U zbytku jsem, jako poněkud nepozorný čtenář, nerozeznal kde linie skutečnosti a fikce vedla. Jednotlivé kapitoly skáčou v čase a prostoru. Kniha není špatně napsaná ale nenašel jsem si tam nějakou zajímavou nosnou dějovou linii.

[Deb W · Rating 1 out of 5]

I read slightly more than half and decided I wasn't interested in slogging through the rest. Maggie writes like a drunk. Different times, different characters - same characters with different names that she uses now and then. First the story is about them, then it's about her. Much is redundant. I think she pulled together a lot of disparate facts, insufficient for any thoughtful discourse, and decided to jumble them up, select one, write, and repeat.

[Zuzana Šejtková · Rating 4 out of 5]

Určitě stojí za přečtení. I když jsou některé detaily, mnohdy celé příběhy beletristickou fikcí autorky, postavy, události, popis doby jsou skvělou ukázkou práce s historií, která s tou beletrií krásně souzní. Není to kniha o Kafkovi, kterých už tu bylo stovky. Je to kniha o těch kolem něj a po něm. O jeho dědictví. O tom, proč má smysl ho číst i dnes.

[Copywriterina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mrzení! Čte se sama, ale autentických textů pomálu, postav přehršel, přeskakování v čase jimi míchá, až je z toho guláš a dva dny po přečtení nezbyde ani pachuť, ani vzpomínky. Škoda, jak píšu…četlo se to samo a záměr autorky je fajn!

[Michal · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bavilo mě to skákání v různých rovinách, i když mě to jindy vytáčí. Vlastně mě nejvíc zajímala ta současnost. Hezky napsaný. Uměřeně.

[Edna Nová · Rating 3 out of 5]

Čekala jsem, že to bude více o “ústřední” hrdince. Nedokázala jsem se vžít do postav, do příběhu. Jsem ráda, že jsem to četla (jsem zase o něco chytřejší), ale nebyl to můj šálek kávy.

[Dominika Dítětová · Rating 3 out of 5]

No, já vám nevím. Po dlouhé době si kladu otázku: "Dalo mi to něco?"

[Simona Kosova · Rating 5 out of 5]

Skvělá kniha, nádherně vystavěná, empatie autorky je z textu znát.

[Jmille32 · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Dwells in the shadowy realm between fiction & nonfiction”
Confused by the jumps in time & number of narrators!