Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

Kafka the Lesser

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Admittedly I’m only a chapter and one page into America, but I’m not particularly impressed so far.  Not that I am unimpressed, I guess, but when I read The Trial I don’t think I was anywhere near as widely read as I am now.  And now, having read what I have, I feel as if Kafka is narrower than I remember; that he has a specific angle on the world that is not as broad as I would want it to be.  (Well, the second part of that sentence said exactly the same as the first, didn’t it?)  Since I last read Kafka I’ve read David Foster Wallace’s remarks (or feelings) about him – about how no one realises how funny he is – so I shall be on the look out for that, though I don’t hold out much hope, as I rarely find things as funny as others when I read.

Dum-di-dum.  Blathering on, I am.  Like stepping in a puddle and then launching into an exposition on an unseen Amazon.


I’d never take him to the desert island, is I guess what I’m saying, important as I think he is.


Written by epistemysics

November 21, 2013 at 2:09 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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