Tuesday, 18 June 2013
Life and the Writer
It is a familiar image, perhaps: the writer rivetted myopically to the page and to the flights of language at the expense of his diet or clothing or his calendar, none of which matter.
But in Kafka, the received objects and signs of Life - family, work, money etc - recede from the other, writerly life to such an extent that they appear, not just as objects of indifference but objects of puzzlement, enigma, hieroglyphs which, as such, are then reincorporated into the writing. That is, in the work everyday life returns in just this way as something uncanny, inscrutable, without any self-evidence, insurmountable.