A Note on Kafka's "Before the Law"

Few stories keep me thinking long after I've read them like Franz Kafka's short story "Before the Law." This 639-word vignette has said more to me over the past half-century than have most 639-page books I read. Some people see Kafka's mini masterpiece as a parable about the intractable, onerous nature of our legal system as we flounder though life. But on each of the few dozen occasions I have read it throughout my adulthood, I have been reminded of the power of free will and personal choice. 

I won't summarize such a short story but urge you to read it if you have not and to reread it if you have. Whenever I have made a life-changing decision, such as getting married, bringing a child into the world, buying a house, pursuing a doctorate, or starting a new career, I tell myself that the message of "Before the Law" is that fear in the face of action is inevitable, that I must act in spite of my fear of the unknown, that living with the consequences of inaction is far more painfully enduring than acting decisively. In other words, I do not want to wait my entire life for gaining entry into "the law," as does the man from the country in the story. That's a lot of message! See what I mean for yourself: read "Before the Law," an amazingly haunting yet existentially challenging tale. We can talk about this work of art all day.

REVIEW: You or I?: Jon Fosse's "I Am the Wind"

Two men, The One and The Other, are all alone on an empty stage. We assume they are on a small boat. They possess no usual names, do not share their history, and do not discuss their past. We see them eat and drink and talk, or at least attempt to talk, and we soon realize they are deeply rooted to each other. The One, who is an expert sailor, wants to push out to sea just as an ominous storm emerges; The Other, who is less experienced at sea but remains on the boat against his suspicions, implores The One to remain ashore. Clearly, The One's suicide is imminent, but we are bereft of a reason or the outcome for The Other. We are also uncertain about the characters' relationship to one another because their use of language is so limited and their attempt at communication so futile. We may even wonder whether these two men are actually one person or many.

I Am the Wind, an hourlong play by Jon Fosse, has been staged throughout Europe and in New York to mixed reviews. Regardless of how viewers or readers feel about this story, they will experience the power of silence and the senselessness of language. Fosse concedes in his 2023 Nobel Prize lecture, aptly titled "A Silent Language," that suicide is pervasive in his work, but he also concludes that writing can save lives. This play, more like a meditation, may well be the author's attempt to understand how we seek one another, relate to each other, and, in spite of ourselves, become one another. 

On Rereading a Beloved Story

I recently reread Franz Kafka's novella "The Metamorphosis" after more than a half century. I read it for the first time as a college student. At that time, I was just a beginner, learning about the vast world of literature. I saw the story as a tale of ostracism and isolation, which resonated with a 20-year-old loner feeling, well, ostracized and isolated. 

A lot of life experience has passed over these past five decades. Now I see "The Metamorphosis" as an allegory of the transactional basis of familial relationships and the relative nature of moral obligations. Gregor Samsa, the man who in the first sentence of the story becomes a gigantic insect or horrible vermin, depending on whose translation you read, has what seems to be a simple relationship with society and his family. He works as a traveling salesman and lives with his parents and younger sister. Gregor is the breadwinner, as his father, a failed businessman, and mother are too incapacitated to work, and his sister is too young to earn income.

A family lie escaped me the first time I read the story. Months into Gregor's transformation, all three family members find employment to continue the lifestyle that Gregor afforded them. Thus, Gregor had little need to support his family, even though his salary was greater than theirs collectively. 

During this reading, I was struck by how Gregor became not only someone to hide from the rest of the world but a thing of deliberate neglect. As a 20-year-old, I was so absorbed in Gregor's problems that I did not consider how his family members began deserting him in his small bedroom. His endearing sister Grete, who quickly became his caretaker once he suffered his metamorphosis, gradually abandoned him. as did their parents, hastening his demise. Gregor could not speak like a human. He climbed the walls and ceiling of his bedroom. He was in the eyes of his family no longer Gregor, no longer human. Once people are convinced that someone else is even a shred less than human, there's no limit to the harm they can inflict on them.

I can say much more about my newinsights into failed communication, societal expectations, and self-abnegation, all additional themes of "The Metamorphosis"; however, enough said to encourage you to read a beloved book from your youth. See what it means to you today. 

Travel Tips for Serious Communicators, Part 6: Why Go?

In this concluding post on travel tips for serious communicators, I refer to previous posts in WORDS ON THE LINE throughout the past 13 years. I have often returned here to the benefits of traveling for writers.

In 2012, I wrote about getting bitten by the writing bug by traveling. I mentioned my penchant for visiting writers' houses, including Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's in Cambridge, Massachusetts; William Shakespeare's in Stratford-upon-Avon, England; Nikos Kazantzakis's in Myrtia, Crete; John Keats's in Rome, Italy; and Carl Sandburg's in Flat Rock, North Carolina. I have since visited Ernest Hemingway's in Key West, Florida; Eugene O'Neill's in Danville, California; August Wilson's in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; August Strindberg's in Stockholm, Sweden; and Henrik Ibsen's in Oslo Norway. You can get a lot of inspiration and ideas in these places.

In 2017, I mentioned that travel is something writers do. Travel could mean just heading out to a different part of your immediate environment with a conscious effort to experience differences, to observe.

In 2024, I described the value of travel for the workplace writer, explaining that these tips apply not only to so-called creative writers, but to business and technical writers as well.

Earlier this year, I noted the tools of the traveling writer. Find the ways and means to facilitate your writing and do it.

So these posts are the who, what, when, where, and how of travel, and this post is the why. Safe and meaningful travels to you.