Transcript Franz Kafka O Processo

Franz Kafka
O Processo
Title: O Processo
Author: Franz Kafka
Format: Paperback
Language: Portuguese
Pages: 0
Publisher: Assírio & Alvim, 1159660800
ISBN:
Format: PDF / Kindle / ePub
Size: 8.5 MB
Download: allowed
Description
‘Someone must have been telling tales about Josef K., for one morning, without having done
anything wrong, he was arrested.’
A successful professional man wakes up one morning to find himself under arrest for an offence
which is never explained. The mysterious court which conducts his trial is outwardly cooperative, but capable of horrific violence. Faced with this ambiguous authority, Josef K.
gradually succumbs to its psychological pressure. He consults various advisers without
escaping his fate. Was there some way out that he failed to see? Kafka’s unfinished novel has
been read as a study of political power, a pessimistic religious parable, or a crime novel where
the accused man is himself the problem.
One of the iconic figures of modern world literature, Kafka writes about universal problems of
guilt, responsibility, and freedom; he offers no solutions, but provokes his listeners to arrive at
meanings of their own. This new edition includes the fragmentary chapters that were omitted
from the main text, in a translation that is both natural and exact, and an introduction that
illuminates the novel and its author.
Insightful reviews
Chiara Pagliochini: « Lei è innocente? », chiese. « Sì », disse K. Fu addirittura con gioia che
diede risposta a questa domanda, soprattutto perché quella risposta era diretta a un privato, e
non comportava quindi nessuna responsabilità. Nessuno gli aveva ancora rivolto una domanda
così esplicita. Per assaporare questa gioia, aggiunse: « Sono del tutto innocente ».
Alcuni anni fa, quando ero ancora al liceo, mi capitò di assistere a una rappresentazione
teatrale di questo stesso testo. Anche allora – e, direi, soprattutto allora – ne uscii frastornata e
quasi irritata, incapace di definire compiutamente il genere di spettacolo a cui avevo assistito,
incapace di definire le sensazioni che mi aveva trasmesso. Provo la stessa frustrazione in
momenti molto più comuni, tutti i giorni: quando non riesco a ricordare la zona oscura di un
sogno, per esempio, o quando aspetto da un interlocutore una risposta che non arriva. È la
frustrazione generata dall’incompletezza, dal mistero. Sono sempre vissuta male
nell’incertezza. Pure l’incertezza è davvero lo stato più comune della vita, uno stato a cui
bisogna far l’abitudine se non si vuole impazzire, uno stato che dobbiamo assimilare e con cui
dobbiamo convivere tutti i giorni.
Che “Il Processo” si presti a una molteplicità di interpretazioni, che operi su svariati livelli di
lettura, che sia impossibile – o, quantomeno, piuttosto presuntuoso – dare una enumerazione e
una spiegazione di ciascun livello, questo non sono io a dirlo. Ciascun lettore, posto davanti a
un’opera del genere, si renderà conto della sua fluidità, del liquefarsi della materia a destra e a
sinistra, secondo sfuggenti derive di pensiero. Come lo sguardo di persone diverse si appunta
su elementi diversi dello stesso paesaggio (a seconda del gusto dello spettatore, della
traiettoria del suo sguardo, del caso), allo stesso modo un libro come “Il Processo” può essere
dissezionato in più parti di paesaggio, che solo una moltitudine di spettatori – e, forse, neanche
quella – saprebbe rimettere insieme.
Nel capitolo ambientato in Duomo, Kafka sembra dare un indizio di questa stessa possibilità –
o, piuttosto, impossibilità – di lettura. Il protagonista, Josef K., si avvicina a un quadro posto in
una nicchia e lo illumina con la sua lampada portatile. La prima figura a essere illuminata è
quella di un Cavaliere, il cui sguardo è rivolto verso altre figure dello stesso dipinto. A un
secondo movimento della lampada, il quadro si chiarisce come una Deposizione, ma molte
figure restano ancora nascoste negli angoli, molti dettagli non sono colti. Solo un’illuminazione
non parziale, solo un gruppo di spettatori più attenti e numerosi, potrebbe forse dare una lettura
completa ed esauriente del dipinto. Lo stesso, io credo, vale per il romanzo in cui il dipinto è
contenuto.
Tutto questo lo scrivo a parziale giustificazione del fatto che in questa recensione non
appariranno le espressioni “macchina burocratica”, “corte”, “difesa”, “apparati giudiziari”.
Dell’aspetto tecnico, giudiziario/burocratico del romanzo io ne capisco quanto di una creatura
che mi stia aperta davanti, sezionata, ma di cui non riesco neanche a nominare neanche gli
organi. Per questo, per non cadere in qualche affermazione scontata, al di là della mia portata,
me ne chiamo fuori.
Quello che più mi intriga della vicenda è la questione della colpa e della colpevolezzadi Josef
K. So, per averlo già trovato nelle “Lettere a Milena”, che nella personalità di Kafka si annida il
sentimento di una colpa, una colpa astratta, quasi razziale, che si esprime spesso nelle forme
dell’auto-denigrazione. Si veda per esempio il passaggio: « Milena, non si tratta di questo, tu
non sei per me una signora, sei una fanciulla, non ho mai visto nessuna che fosse tanto
fanciulla, non oserò porgerti la mano, fanciulla, la mano sudicia, convulsa, unghiuta, incerta e
tremula, cocente e fredda ».
Al contrario, non si ritrovano in K. (ma quanto è significativa l’iniziale del cognome?) la
coscienza di una colpa e il sentimento di una lordura. Troviamo però una colpa “reale”, una
colpa ancora più astratta di quella di Kafka, in quanto mai nominata, ma sanzionata
. Come si
può condannare un uomo non per qualcosa che non ha commesso, ma per una colpa che non
si conosce? Josef K. si dichiara innocente, ma non conosce la propria colpa. Di che cosa
dunque si dichiara innocente? In cosa consistono la sua colpevolezza e la sua innocenza?
Leggendo il romanzo, ho avuto l’impressione che la domanda si facesse man mano più
ambigua. Inizialmente il lettore è persuaso dell’innocenza di K., anche se questa innocenza è
priva di un riferimento. Ne è convinto dalla semplice assurdità del caso e dei procedimenti presi
contro l’imputato. Eppure, col dispiegarsi del processo, la spontanea simpatia per il caso di K.
si perde e K. stesso appare mano a mano più ambiguo. Perché non cerca di scoprire la propria
colpa? Perché accetta passivamente il corso degli avvenimenti – tentando di porre loro un freno
solo ricorrendo alla corruzione? Perché, nelle pagine finali, si fa trascinare di peso, dichiarando
così palesemente la propria inerzia?
Queste domande fanno pendere la bilancia a sfavore di K. La sua inerzia, il suo egocentrismo,
la sua mancanza di generosità, il suo opportunismo, le sue tendenze a corrompere e farsi
corrompere, il rapporto certamente poco limpido con donne altrettanto torbide (di cui una è la
fotocopia dell’altra, apparizioni notturne, fantasmi di carne sola) non gli guadagnano la simpatia
della corte dei lettori. Sì, lo si trova buffo, grottesco a tratti, ma non lo si giudicherebbe un uomo
integro. È questa la colpa di K.? La sua natura? È questa la colpa di Kafka? Questa, la colpa
che ogni individuo ha di fronte a se stesso per essere la persona meschina che è e di cui non si
giudica mai davvero innocente, se non in improvvisi impeti di amor proprio?
E chi sanziona la colpa? Da chi è composto il tribunale? Di nuovo siamo noi, nei momenti in cui
confessiamo in segreto la nostra meschinità, nei momenti in cui le convenzioni sociali entrano a
giudicare i nostri comportamenti. È un processo di cui siamo accusati e accusatori, un processo
che si svolge nel tribunale della nostra psiche, lo stesso processo di pulsione, rimozione,
spostamento, condensazione che avviene ogni notte nei nostri sogni? Ed è per questo che “Il
Processo” appare così onirico, così interamente campato per aria, come volti senza volto di un
sogno, come storie che si avvitano su se stesse, scale, sovrapposizioni, atmosfere nebulose?
Ho letto nel “Processo” quello che mi piaceva trovarci, così come la lampada di K. illumina solo
una porzione del dipinto e ne dà prima una lettura errata. Questo è piaciuto leggere a me. Altri
leggeranno altro. Forse avranno ragione loro. Forse avremo ragione tutti. Forse nessuno di noi
avrà ragione.
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Jonathan: Before you read my old initial review here's a summary that has been distilled over
time in my mind:
Franz Kafka was a true genius. What is this sign of genius? When you can write a classic novel
that wasn't even properly completed.
I read The Trial to give myself a better perspective on Kafka's writing style for my literature
course. I can perceive similarities to his Metamorphosis but in many aspects this is a completely
different work. However they are both challenging pieces with complex ideas behind them that
can be observed in easily understood ways.
Kafka intends to shock and stun. He leaves nothing to chance in order to disturb and confuse
the reader. The very fact that he also wrote a story about a guy transformed into a bug should
indicate that. Here he writes a highly symbolic story which seems to be about life itself. (view
spoiler)
This really is a story that pulls no punches. Kafka likes to hit you in the guts and then hit you
again while you're still out of breath. And then he likes to blindfold you, spin you around and
push you down a hill. When you finish rolling, get up and untie your blindfold he then demands
that you work out what on earth just happened. I'm not going to lie his work here is
disorientating. And I think that was part of the intended effect. Kafka likely wants his reader to
feel the same confusion and alarm as Joseph K. to truly grasp his honest and painful message.
Yet I have to say despite the powerful prose of this work I couldn't enjoy it. I didn't like the sense
disorientation and personally feel that Kafka's message - while true in aspects - was a highly
pessimistic, cynical overlook. It could just be that I tend to err on the side of optimism and my
personal opinion merely clashed with his.
Either way I can see why Kafka's work is regarded as one of the classics and I accept that. For
even if I did not enjoy his work here I can see the powerful merit to it and accept that it can still
teach lessons. So I do say that it should be read by others who would enjoy it more and
extrapolate more from it.
4.5 stars["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>
Kinga: Kafka's Trial is a kind of books which are consistently found in cultural sphere and
referenced advert nauseum. regardless of by no means having learn Kafka earlier than i'm
really convinced I used the notice 'Kafkaesque' on many events and maintained a semieloquent dialog approximately 'The Trial'.I could've most likely refrained from ever examining it
yet lately I resolved to take my literary targets heavily and because books appear to be the one
factor during this global i really take care of i would in addition take it to a different level.'The
Trial' doesn't have any plot to talk of and personality improvement is non-existent. There usually
are not really any characters that take any human shape. there's no clash or solution and the
single epiphany is the single it's possible you'll or would possibly not have on the finish of it. fact
be told, 'The Trial' is not anything yet an allegory.An allegory of what's as much as you to
decide. i feel I interpret it at the such a lot common point and spot The Trial as a logo of human
existence. we do not be aware of why we're here, the way it goes to finish or even what the
principles of the sport are. Yet, we take this problematical trip attempting to make experience of
it, comforted by way of little meaningless bogus victories that idiot us into believing a few growth
has been made. We some time past learnt that the 'actual acquittal' is unimaginable yet we
refuse to provide up. this is often how I see it. However, many literary critics and different clever
humans see it otherwise and that's their prerogative.There is, for example, a fairly attentiongrabbing conception that 'The Trial' used to be born as an inmediate results of the break-up of
Kafka's engagement to Felice Bauer. Felice Bauer was, one may possibly say, an simple
woman. She used to be Kafka's muse and his anchor within the reality. Kafka wanted her to
write down and to stick sane. What Felice obtained out of the affair is doubtful as her letters did
not survive. No doubt, it should have been difficult as Kafka's concept of affection was once
certainly now not a fit one. Their dating consituted commonly of letters and low conferences
which made Kafka the happiest simply once they have been over. He did eventually suggest to
Felice yet emphasised he will be a slightly garbage husband as he was once easily now not
minimize out for kin life. And so it went on. If an individual felt like they have been on an
endless, incomprehensible trial, it was, in my opinion, Felice. But, of course, Franz keeps it was
once him - simply because ultimately Felice's buddies and kin made up our minds to place an
finish to it, referred to as Kafka in, compelled him to knock it off and depart the negative woman
alone. That meeting/interrogation was once his 'trial'.Now, i do not are looking to entertain this
conception simply because whether it is true, i might need to lessen the score for 'Trial' to a few
2-3 stars and placed it on my 'brats' shelf i've got for selfish, woe-is-me members performing
like brats. I wish to keep on with the human-existence allegory which i locate particularly
relocating in its Weltschmertz way.If you have an interest in extra studying at the subject, cost
John Banville's article approximately Kafka's Trial and his affair with Fraulein Bauer
here:http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/...You may also locate fictionalised (by Francine
Prose) letter from Felice Bauer to Kafka during this number of invented love letters : 4 Letter
Word: Invented Correspondence from the sting of contemporary Romance. The letter is written
through Felice lengthy after Kafka's demise and primarily asserts that Kafka was once a dick.
Kaph: Verdict: A tome of existentialist tripe so bleak and unnecessary there isn’t even a
trial.There comes some degree within the evolution all art; visual, literary, musical, in which
those that create it devour from the tree of data of fine and evil and turn into too self aware.
‘Look at this medium,’ they proclaim. ‘We were following rules, society imposed principles
proscribing what our paintings can be, restricting what *we* can be!’ It shines unexpectedly and
obviously earlier than them, conventions that have been by no means wondered are
unexpectedly dissolved, exploded. The artist is then loose to write, to draw, to compose with a
transparent head and a clean soul. it's this Übermensch second that led Duchamp to graffiti an
upturned urinal and show it within the Academy. it's what ended in the layout of the Barbican. it
truly is what led Kafka to jot down The Trial. it's a horrible, terrible moment.I won’t mince words;
I detest this book. It manages to be all of the worst components of self-indulgent, self-effacing,
ponderous and pointless. it's a hateful book. This too was once compelled upon via the Texas
self sufficient university District as a part of their on-going crusade to prevent teenagers
Reading. Up until eventually then I had learn simply respectable books and it was once a
surprise to gain any crap can be a vintage as lengthy the writer used to be international and the
topic was once avant garde. The Trial isn’t quite a bit a narrative as a needlessly advanced
suicide note.A guy is trained he's on trial, yet now not for what. during the chapters he's
progressively (and by way of his personal silly volition) separated from his associates and
family. each one bankruptcy he meets a suite of unsettling humans and so they speak mildly
miserable gibberish prior to disappearing from the tale forever. on the end, the most personality
leads to a few kind of newly surreal, inexplicable and unexplained corridor of sunshine the place
he dies in an identical fashion. I’d name spoiler yet there has been by no means quite
otherwise for this booklet to go. there's no trial. That, greater than whatever quite pissed me
off.Nothing happens during this book. It’s only a college of conversations Franz has had with
the nihilistic voices in his head. they need to were placed down in a diary and browse by means
of a credible psychoanalyst, now not released in 37 languages and stuffed down the maw of
sixteen 12 months olds. God is dead. selection is an illusion. cause and good judgment are
comforting lies we inform ourselves and dying is the one certainty. this is often not anything we
hadn’t heard ahead of from My Chemical Romance so why our lecturers notion we wanted
extra purposes to chop ourselves and move overboard on eye-makeup I’ll by no means know.
Existentialism is and perpetually can be a grimy note to me and The Trial will get a 1.#26Title
The Trial by means of Franz KafkaWhen Autumn 2002Why Read for sophomore EnglishRating
1
Joselito Honestly and Brilliantly: examine Joseph K., a financial institution officer dwelling in a
rustic with a constitution. He wakes up in the future with unusual males in his condo telling him
he is less than arrest. Why or for what offense, not anyone knows. The arresting officials
themselves do not know and cannot inform him. no matter if he is lower than arrest, however,
not anyone choices him up or locks him in jail. He can nonetheless visit his office, work, practice
his primary day-by-day chores, and do no matter what he desires to do as he awaits his trial. yet
he's understandably apprehensive and worried. He is, after all, charged with an unknown yet
very grave offense. He has a felony case. he's an accused. he's lower than arrest.For this
challenge he consults so many. He will get a lawyer. His uncle involves his aid. He talks
together with his lawyer's different client--also charged and less than arrest like him. He
consults different people, a painter (who is expounded to grasp the "Court"), a few women, a
priest, etc. approximately his case. yet nobody can inform him what the cost is and what his
sentence will be. The "Examining Magistrate," the "Judges," the "Court," the proceedings/ trial,
or even the "Law" itself--they all appear to be unsolvable enigmas.Now, examine yourself. You
have been born or made to exist with out your consent. You live, you do no matter what
involves your brain worthy doing, you marry or remain single, probably you have got married
already and are elevating a family, you can be residing a lifetime of repute or anonymity,
accumulating riches or simply getting by, satisfied or sad. however the whys and wherefores of
all these, why you are the following within the first place, why you are doing no matter what it
truly is you are doing, when you have a objective or used to be simply an accident, when you
will outlive your actual death, see God or see darkness, witness corrective justice for all of the
wrongs you have got witnessed or heard about--all those you don't know and not will know.
occasionally you'll think, with these types of uncertainties and frightful unknowns it's going to
were higher that you simply didn't exist at all. yet you had no choice. you are condemned to this
lifestyles and were charged. you cannot "not exist" and escape. you're less than arrest.So you
search help. you will test religion, universal sense, reason, learn the affairs of men, glance again
in history, see what the residing and lifeless prophets and philosophers need to say, pray to
God and his saints, ask Oprah, google your questions, yet a lot of these supply no certitude.
Then, you'll nonetheless die, and also you may die bewildered and afraid and, just like the dying
of Joseph K. himself during this novel, your loss of life might be no varied from that of a
dog--"...Then considered one of them opened his frock coat and out of a sheath that hung from
a belt girt around his waistcoat drew a long, thin, double-edged butcher's knife, held it up, and
demonstrated the slicing edges within the moonlight. once again the odious courtesies began,
the 1st passed the knife throughout K. to the second, who passed it throughout K. again back to
the first. K. now perceived sincerely that he used to be imagined to grab the knife himself,
because it traveled from hand handy above him, and plunge it into his personal breast. yet he
didn't do so, he in simple terms grew to become his head, which used to be nonetheless loose
to move, and gazed round him. He couldn't thoroughly upward thrust to the occasion, he
couldn't relieve the officers of all their tasks; the accountability for this final failure of his lay with
him who had no longer left him the remnant of energy beneficial for the deed. His look fell at the
most sensible tale of the home adjacent the quarry. With a flicker as of a mild going up, the
casements of a window there all of sudden flew open; a human figure, faint and insubstantial at
that distance and that height, leaned suddenly a ways ahead and stretched either palms
nonetheless farther. Who used to be it? A friend? an outstanding man? anyone who
sympathized? an individual who desired to help? used to be it one individual only? Or was once
it mankind? was once aid at hand? have been there arguments in his desire that have been
overlooked? after all there needs to be. common sense is without doubt unshakable, bit it can't
face up to a guy who desires to cross on living. the place was once the pass judgement on
whom he had by no means seen? the place used to be the excessive Court, to which he had by
no means penetrated? He raised his fingers and unfolded all his fingers."But the arms of 1 of
the companions have been already at K.'s throat, whereas the opposite thrust the knife deep
into his middle and became it there twice. With failing eyes K. may nonetheless see the 2 of
them instantly sooner than him, cheek leaning opposed to cheek, observing the ultimate act.
'Like a dog!' he said; it was once as though the disgrace of it needs to outlive him."A needs to
learn for the insanely delirious ones: those that dwell with no considering and for this reason
unaware that they, too, are indicted and are less than arrest.
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