Letter to His Father
by Franz Kafka
I have felt very uncomfortable reading this letter. And the thought that I--together with a very large number of
people-- have read something which was not intended for us, as well as the knowledge that the original addressee
never read it, contributed further to my uneasiness.
Franz Kafka wrote this letter to his father Hermann in 1919, when he was about thirty-six years old. His father's
opposition to his planned marriage to Julie Wohryzeck (this was Franz’s second attempt at marriage- previously he
had approached Felice Bauer) may have prompted Kafka to write such an epistle. The letter is about one hundred
pages long, was partly typed and partly handwritten. His mother intercepted the letter and never gave it to her
husband. It was first published in 1952.
Kafka had a textual mind and a tormented personality. And his highly analytical thinking communicated better
through letters. He wrote many. I read years ago his Letters to Milena: Expanded and Revised, in a New Translation
which left in me a strong impression. Those letters were not intended for me either. But the fact that Milena
Jesenska had read them and replied to them confers to this correspondence a quality of communion that is
entirely missing from the paternal letter. Kafka actually gave it to Milena later, in 1920, after the mother had
returned it.
Hermann Kafka
Rather than a communion there is an open accusation to the father- the bitter repproach is mixed with an afflicted
confession. It enacts the confrontation of two opposite personalities. The father, Hermann, originally from the
petite bourgeoisie, had risen up in society thanks to his determination and strength of character. He is portrayed
as tyrannical, proud, competitive, unsophisticated and rough. In contrast Kafka characterizes himself as a
profoundly insecure, weak, timorous and also capable of malice and rancour.
In this distressing read I could not help thinking that this representation was not entirely convincing, or that I just
could not empathize with it. I found a similar degree of self-centeredness in Franz, as deployed in his very
legalistic text (he had studied law after all), as supposedly there had been in Hermann. For example, Franz
censures his father for loading too much of his attention on him after his two brothers had died young. What
about the sorrow for the loss that the father must have felt? I made a list of similar instances. I did feel for him,
however, witnessing how much he agonized over his own self and particularly when he referred to his increasing
physical weakness and to the first signs of blood in his lungs. TB carried him not long afterwards, in 1924, in his
early forties.
This letter however, precisely for its confessional aspect and for the sophisticated language, is a necessary read for
anyone interested in Kafka’s works. Themes of irrational authority, alienation of the individual, obsessive fears,
disorienting perceptions, inability to control one’s life, debilitating restrictions, etc, have their seeds in this letter.
All these “Kafkaesque” elements were certainly in Franz’s mind. We do not know if their source was Hermann. And
as Franz recognized little of the Kafka traits in himself, the term “Kafkaesque” may not be the most appropriate to
refer to his idiosyncrasies.
|Υπέροχος Κάφκα!
Είναι σπαραξικάρδιο -κι εθιστικό- να διαβάζω τα έργα αυτού του πονεμένου,βαθιά συμπλεγματικου,ενοχικού
και φοβισμένου συγγραφέα,έργα που πωλούνται ακόμα σαν φρέσκο ψωμί,μα που ο ίδιος τότε αμφισβητούσε.
Αμφισβητούσε το ταλέντο της έκφρασης της απελπισίας του,αμφισβητούσε τον ίδιο του τον εαυτό,ένιωθε τόσο
απεγνωσμένος και άχρωμος κι όμως τα έργα του,μέχρι και σήμερα, ζωγραφίζουν με θρηνητικές μπογιές,όλων
των ανθρώπων την ψυχική συντριβή.|
Man, I read this so long ago. There was a prolonged period of time where I read tons of Kafka, eventually pulling
down "The Trial" and "The Castle" in due course. It's not so much that I was going through an existential crisis at
the time (any more than any sensitive, intelligent person might be at any point on the bewildering map) more that
it was, and still is, just fascinating to watch Kafka's mind and imagination play itself before my eyes, like a butterfly
struggling in a pool of oil.
He's an endlessly fascinating writer and man, and I don't always like separating the two but Kafka makes me feel
better about this tendency of mine.
The letter is, in a word, coruscating. I don't think ol' Hermann Kafka was quite the bombastic, domineering,
borborygmos monster that wee Franz made him out to be. How many times are the monsters we make in our own
imaginations really true to the contours of the real person? But if you can make an art out of hunger, you can
make an art out of domestic exaggeration. And if there was ever a muse who sang out loud here...
You feel his admiration for the man at war with his left-brain fear and disgust and intimidation. It's tough going at
times, and sometimes it feels like you're unwarrantably peeking into a sodden diary (and, well, you more or less
are) but it's valuable in itself and worth looking into in the same spirit- hushed, with trepidation, curiosity, and
humble respect.
Herr Kafka never read it, himself, but for that matter he never got around to reading "The Metamorphosis",
either.|Franz Kafka escreveu a “Carta ao Pai” em 1919, aos 36 anos de idade. Já tinha, nessa data, publicado alguns
dos seus livros mais conhecidos.
Sempre considerei redutor comparar a biografia de um escritor com a sua produção literária. Contudo, neste caso,
fui forçada a mudar a minha opinião.
Sempre considerei redutor comparar a biografia de um escritor com a sua produção literária. Contudo, neste caso,
fui forçada a mudar a minha opinião.
A obra de Kafka apresenta uma dupla vertente realista e metafísica, descreve o homem moderno imerso numa
realidade absurda, reflectindo assim a problemática pessoal e o conflito familiar do autor presente nesta “Carta ao
Pai”, a qual, parece nunca ter chegado ao destinatário.
Li a carta comovida e emocionada. Por escrito, num texto inquietante e surpreendente, Franz explica ao pai o que
numa teve coragem falar cara a cara.
Nas linhas de “Carta ao Pai”, o escritor apresenta, além de um desabafo, uma importante obra literária que trata
de um tema universal: a educação dos filhos. Na carta, Kafka não pretende nem a vingança nem a reconciliação.
Segundo o meu ponto de vista, Franz reconhece que ambos – pai e filho - tinham uma certa parcela de culpa.
“….aqui, chegámos, ao que me parece, a um ponto tão próximo da verdade que nos permite a ambos ficar um
pouco mais tranquilos e tornar mais fáceis a vida e a morte.”
Como pode um pai deixar que o seu filho tenha medo dele?
“perguntaste-me há pouco tempo por que razão digo que tenho medo de ti. Como de costume, não soube o que
responder, por parte precisamente devido ao medo que sinto de ti, mas também porque para fundamentar esse
medo seria preciso entrar em muitos pormenores, que nem de longe conseguiria ter presentes ao falar.”
Como pode um pai deixar de respeitar a individualidade de cada filho e aceitá-la na sua diferença?
“Tu só sabes tratar uma criança à luz da tua própria natureza, com força, barulho e cólera, e neste caso até
achavas que era o método mais adequado, já que querias fazer de mim um rapaz cheio de força e audácia.”
A educação e a personalidade de FK transformaram-no num indivíduo solitário, vulnerável, inseguro, amargo,
influenciável, infeliz e, sobretudo, com um enorme sentido de culpa. Tudo isto, transporta-o para uma espécie de
indiferença, que o leva a escrever em 2 de Agosto de 1914 no seu diário a seguinte frase:
“ A Alemanha declarou guerra à Rússia.À tarde fui nadar.”
Mas, no fim de contas, o que somos, o que é cada um de nós senão uma combinatória, diferente e única, de
experiência, de leituras, de imaginações? (Enrique Vila-Matas)
|Um dos livros mais tristes que já li por onde perpassa uma assustadora lucidez, uma desnorteante clarividência.
“Se sou como sou (tirando, naturalmente, a minha natureza e os efeitos da vida sobre nós), isso é o resultado da
tua educação e da minha obediência. E se esse resultado, apesar de tudo, te é tão penoso, se tu te negas,
inconscientemente, a reconhecê-lo como produto da tua educação, isso deve-se ao facto de a tua mão e o meu
material serem tão estranhos um ao outro.” (P.25)