Nei labirinti raccontati da K., senza alcuna possibilita' per l'orizzonte (se ci fosse).

"Allora sono colpevole", disse Karl, facendo una pausa come se si aspettasse dai suoi giudici una parola amichevole, tale da infondergli il coraggio di continuare a difendersi, ma questa parola non venne... (p. 145)

"E' impossibile difendersi quando manca la buona volonta'", si disse Karl, ... (p. 146)

Cosi' si giunge ad una perfetta coincidenza tra l'espatriazione del superstite absburgico, la disintegrazione umana e religiosa dell'Ostjude e l'incomunicabile frantumazione dell'uomo moderno - o piu' precisamente di quello occidentale - in genere.

(Claudio Magris a proposito di Joseph Roth, p. IX) ( )

Skruvat som alltid med Kafka. LIte synd att den inte är färdigskriven dock. Slutet blev lite tvärt. ( )

América cuenta la historia del joven Karl Rossmann que, tras un incidente con una criada, es desterrado por sus padres a América. Se espera que se redima en esta mágica tierra de oportunidades, pero el joven Karl se ve envuelto en un torbellino de vertiginosos reveses, extrañas escapadas y aventuras picarescas.

Here's what I wrote after reading in 1985: "Hmmmm. . . . Beyond poviding an insight into an Austrian's view of an America he (Kafka) had never seen, this book did little for me. Perhaps more background on Kafka himself would better enable me to understand his "genius"." Well, it was a humorous book that played with Kafka's themes of oppression by a system. Apparently, many of the situations described in the book were encountered by Kafka's relatives who has emigrated to the Unimted States ( )

Franz Kafka broke off writing his first novel, Amerika, on January 24, 1913. Though one of the most famous stay-at-homes in literature, Kafka read widely including travel books. His absurdist novel Amerika begins with young Karl viewing the Statue of Liberty and feeling "the free winds of heaven” on his face. Within moments he is lost in the maze of the multiple levels of the ship looking for an umbrella he left behind. While this reminded me of Alice's initial fall into the rabbit hole it also alerted me that I was in a Kafka novel, albeit a slightly different type than I had read before.

The United States that Kafka depicts is more based upon myth than any real experience of the place. Certain odd details reveal one Continental impression of this land at a time when so many Eastern Europeans were emigrating. Drawing on a host of sources—including Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield, Benjamin Franklin’s Autobiography, and the poetry of Walt Whitman—and calling to the reader’s mind an even more formidable array of literary analogues—from William Shakespeare’s one play set in the Americas, The Tempest, to Henry James’s international novels, Kafka conjures an America more fabulous than factual. Appropriately enough, in Kafka’s America much of the action takes place in the deepest night, at the deepest levels of the subconscious and of the spirit.

Kafka seemed to intuit that being someone, or anyone, in the geographical vastness of America was not altogether different from the problem of being someone in the bureaucratic vastness of German-dominated Prague. Establishing an identity was, moreover, a problem compounded by the question of home, a question that was important both to the immigrant and to the Czech. “I want above all to get home,” Karl points out early in the novel. By “home,” he literally means the house of his Uncle Jacob but, figuratively, he is referring to that dream of a familiar place where he will feel secure, understood, accepted: the garden from which Karl, like Adam, has been banished. Because of his original sin, he has been condemned to wander the earth in search not only of a home, or refuge, but of justice and mercy as well. As he comes to realize, however momentarily, “It’s impossible to defend oneself where there is no good will.” What this sudden revelation suggests is that the absence of mercy, whether human or divine, makes justice impossible. Just as important, this situation renders all Karl’s efforts not only existentially futile but—and this is Kafka’s genius—comically absurd as well. The chance encounters that characterize the novel, the arbitrary exercise of authority by those who are in power (parents, uncles, head porters, and the like),the uncertain rules and regulations, and the various characters’—especially Karl’s—precarious status constitute Kafka’s fictional world.

That the Statue of Liberty holds aloft a sword instead of a torch and that a bridge connects New York City and Boston unsettle the reading by placing an essentially realist novel close to the realm of fantasy. Much of that fantasy is dark and disturbing, but by the end — first editor Max Brod says Kafka quit while on his intended last chapter — Karl has reached the wide open West, where he seems reborn as a bit actor in “The Nature Theater of Oklahoma.” Kafka would go on to write better and more labyrinthine tales, but his first novel is an intriguing vision of America. ( )