THE DIARIES OF FRANZ KAFKA

A fresh, unadulterated translation of Kafka’s notebooks, dense with introspection and writerly despair.

Until now, the diaries of the iconic Czech writer Franz Kafka (1883-1924) were only available in English via an edition edited by his literary executor, Max Brod, who famously denied Kafka’s deathbed request that his writings be destroyed. Though Brod salvaged Kafka’s writing, he also took a heavy hand to the diaries, suppressing homoerotic passages and overly streamlining Kafka’s prose in places. Benjamin’s new translation is based on an unexpurgated German critical edition published in 1990, and it provides a clearer glimpse into Kafka’s process. Starting in 1910, Kafka began writing observations about readings, plays, cabaret performances, and, occasionally, brothels in Prague, chronicling trips around Europe and drafting essays and stories, often reworking and expanding them repeatedly. He also discusses his publications, frustrations with his job and family, and various romantic courtships. But the attraction of Kafka’s diaries has always been his coruscating descriptions of his existential struggles as a writer and human being. He captures his frustration in ways that are wrenching, vivid, and highly quotable: “Some new insights into the creature of unhappiness that I am have consolingly dawned on me”; “the pleasure again in imagining a knife twisted in my heart”; “the story came out of me like a veritable birth covered with filth and slime.” In light of his labor to gain attention during his lifetime—true fame would only arrive after his death—such passages are especially piercing. Still, the new edition isn’t always user-friendly for casual readers, studded with hundreds of footnotes and asking readers to bounce back to an earlier notebook to read the conclusion of a story draft begun in a later one.

A thorough, occasionally unwieldy look inside the mind of a modernist titan; essential reading for Kafka scholars.