Franz Kafka - Letters to Milena (6)

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  • Опубліковано 15 вер 2024
  • The Talkative Crow reading one of Kafka's letters to Milena.
    Dear Frau Milena,
    To begin with, so that you don't deduce it from my
    letter against my will: for about 14 days now I have
    had increasing insomnia, I generally don't take it
    badly, times like this come and go. They also always
    have a few more explanations than they really
    need (this is ridiculous, but according to Baedeker it
    can even be the air in Meran). And even if they
    frequently are just barely visible, all these causes
    can still make one as dull as a block of wood and at
    the same time as restless as a beast of the forest.
    However, I do have one compensation. You have
    slept peacefully, even if somewhat "oddly," even if
    yesterday you were still "out of sorts"-nonetheless
    your sleep was peaceful. So when sleep passes over
    me in the night, I know where it is headed and
    accept this. Of course it would be stupid to resist,
    sleep is the most innocent creature there is and a
    sleepless man the most guilty.
    And you thank this sleepless man in your last
    letter. If an uninitiated stranger were to read it,
    he'd have to think: "What a man! He must have
    moved mountains here." But meanwhile he hasn't
    done a thing, hasn't lifted a finger (except to
    write), is living off milk and good things-without
    always (although often) seeing "tea and apples" -
    and in general he lets things take their course and
    leaves the mountains alone.
    Do you know the story of Dostoyevsky's first
    success? It encompasses a great many things;
    what's more, I cite it only because the great name
    makes it easy to do so, for a story from next door
    or even closer would have the same significance.
    Incidentally my memory of the story, and even the
    names, is inexact.
    When Dostoyevsky wrote his first novel Poor Folk,
    he was living with his friend Grigoriev, a man of
    letters. The latter watched for months as the
    written pages accumulated on the desk, but didn't
    receive the manuscript until it was finished. He
    read the novel, was delighted and took it to
    Nekrasov, a famous contemporary critic, without
    saying anything to Dostoyevsky.
    That night at 3 O'clock the doorbell rings at
    Dostoyevsky's. It's Grigoriev and Nekrasov, they
    push their way into the room, embrace and kiss
    Dostoyevsky. Nekrasov, who hadn't known him
    before, calls him the hope of Russia, they spend one
    or two hours talking mostly about the novel and
    don't leave until morning.
    Dostoyevsky, who always described this night as the
    happiest in his life, leans out the window to watch
    them leave, loses control and starts to cry. His basic
    feeling at that moment, which he describes
    although I forget where, was something like:
    "These wonderful people! They're so good and noble!
    And I am so mean! If they could only see inside me!
    And even if I simply tell them they won't believe
    me." The fact that Dostoyevsky later undertook to
    emulate them is merely embellishment, merely the
    last word that youth demands in its invincibility,
    and is no longer part of my story which
    consequently ends here.
    Do you, dear Frau Milena, see the mystery in this
    story; do you see what reason cannot grasp? I think
    it is this: As far as we can generalise, Grigoriev
    and Nekrasov were certainly no nobler than
    Dostoyevsky, but now leave the general overview
    aside, which even Dostoyevsky didn't demand that
    night and which is useless in specific cases.
    Concentrate solely on Dostoyevsky and you will be
    convinced that Grigoriev and Nekrasov really were
    wonderful, that Dostoyevsky was impure, infinitely
    mean, that he would never even come close to
    catching up with Grigoriev and Nekrasov, let alone
    repay them for their monstrously kind, undeserved
    good deed. You can actually see them from the
    window as they walk away, thereby indicating
    their unapproachability. Unfortunately the
    meaning of the story is obliterated by the great
    name Dostoyevsky.
    Where did my insomnia lead me? I'm sure to
    nothing that was not very well meant.
    FranzK

КОМЕНТАРІ • 5

  • @bethguerrera6715
    @bethguerrera6715 6 місяців тому +3

    Beautiful

  • @z.k.9887
    @z.k.9887 6 місяців тому +2

    You should also read something from Dostoevsky or Tolstoy or other russian writers/poets! Love your voice!
    Hopefully more letters will come out..

    • @thetalkativecrow
      @thetalkativecrow  6 місяців тому

      Thank you for the kind words! Hopefully, I will be recording the next Milena letter today, so it will appear either tonight or tomorrow. I confess, my knowledge of Russian writers is somewhat limited, but I am always looking around, so you never know...

  • @sejaleeuwen
    @sejaleeuwen 6 місяців тому +1

    The hope of Russia ❤