This article reconstructs a theoretical and methodological problem in the work of German literary scholar Emil Staiger, a representative of the postwar school of Werkimmanenz, which called for a renewal of form-sensitive practices of reading. It analyzes Staiger's notion of style and traces its application in his monumental Goethe monograph and his essay collection Stilwandel, highlighting the difficulties that arise from Staiger's attempt to operationalize style in the sense of an artwork's inner unity (“Einstimmigkeit”) for his study of dynamic and changing forms. These difficulties led him to reframe his notion of style in a 1968 paper that, however, ultimately left the problem of how to write a history of literary styles unresolved.
{"title":"“Das Problem des Stilwandels”: Stylistic Transformation in the Work of Emil Staiger","authors":"Elisa Ronzheimer","doi":"10.1111/gequ.12476","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1111/gequ.12476","url":null,"abstract":"<p>This article reconstructs a theoretical and methodological problem in the work of German literary scholar Emil Staiger, a representative of the postwar school of <i>Werkimmanenz</i>, which called for a renewal of form-sensitive practices of reading. It analyzes Staiger's notion of style and traces its application in his monumental <i>Goethe</i> monograph and his essay collection <i>Stilwandel</i>, highlighting the difficulties that arise from Staiger's attempt to operationalize style in the sense of an artwork's inner unity (“Einstimmigkeit”) for his study of dynamic and changing forms. These difficulties led him to reframe his notion of style in a 1968 paper that, however, ultimately left the problem of how to write a history of literary styles unresolved.</p>","PeriodicalId":54057,"journal":{"name":"GERMAN QUARTERLY","volume":"97 4","pages":"506-521"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2024-10-25","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1111/gequ.12476","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"142862125","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"OA","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
<p>Kafka has become answerable to cultural studies, in one form or another, to an extraordinary degree—a fact that speaks for the seemingly inexhaustible ability of his work to accommodate “forms of the real” both contemporaneous with his writing and in the decades following. So, there is Kafka, with his celebrated “Ohr für das Kommende,” held, as in “Beim Bau der Chinesischen Mauer,” <i>Das Schloß</i>, and <i>Der Proceß</i>, to have anticipated today's intractable border disputes, relentless immigration, and baffling simulacra, as if AI-generated. This approach, now so widely extended, marks, to my mind, a crisis, recalling us to the detail of Kafka's prose that mattered most to him as arising, we might say (and as Lacan has said) from his rhetorical unconscious. We know that it was Kafka's practice to frequent bookstores and riffle through the pages of the new arrivals, something short of reading them with the sort of engagement that justifies his mooted encyclopedic anticipations. His work is certainly full of allusions to contemporary authors and issues suggestive of our own; and even where they are not explicitly named, we are entitled to conclude the impossibility of proving that any such matter was <i>not</i> known to him. For example, he does not appear to have written down the name Nietzsche, but it is certain that he knew a great deal about him. And yet we should not leave home for all this border-crossing. I call for a return to Kafka's text with its special intensity drawn from regions “below,” following “dieses Hinabgehen zu den dunklen Mächten, diese Entfesselung von Natur aus gebundener Geister, fragwürdige Umarmungen und was alles noch unten vor sich gehen mag, von dem man oben nichts mehr weiß, wenn man im Sonnenlicht Geschichten schreibt” (Kafka to Brod; <i>Briefe</i> 384). This underworld is explosive with sexual and aggressive energies, confirmed, as it happens, by Kafka's saying to Max Brod, in answer to Brod's question of what Kafka meant with the concluding sentence of “Das Urteil,” “Ich habe dabei an eine starke Ejakulation gedacht” (Beug and Heller 20).</p><p>Where, exactly, does this alleged crisis take us? In a diary entry, Kafka wrote, “Mein Inneres löst sich […] und ist bereit Tieferes hervorzulassen” (<i>Tagebücher</i> 139). It is a truth universally acknowledged that many of Kafka's most telling inspirations—in the form of pregnant, “vacillating” (Lacan) metaphors—arrive on the page as if expelled from the unconscious: they have something to tell that springs over the artificial, daylit borders between stories. We want to pay attention to them in their rhetorical journey: they have no easy correlates with the empirical <i>Realien</i> of cultural studies, as, for example, the pocket. In “Das Urteil,” this signifier has lethal implications, marking the peak moment of aggression by a son to his father. You recall: as Herr Bendemann and his son Georg seem to share the running of a business, the father declares that he,
当格里高尔·萨姆沙某天早晨醒来——他那丑陋的、像寄生虫一样的身躯是他的家人的耻辱——算总账的那一天,难道不应该按照“口袋”的痕迹来惩罚他的侵略行为吗?这位父亲把口袋变成他的优势,这个口袋在《终极》中标志着孝道反抗的巅峰时刻,把它装进一个修辞的弹药库,难道不是完全正确的吗?“Denn der Vater hatte sich entschlossen, ihn zu bombardieren。”“在德国,在德国,在德国,在德国,在德国,在德国,在德国,在德国,在德国,在德国,在德国”(Drucke 171)。不然为什么要“填满他的口袋?”因此,与所有幼稚的期望相反,“最后一件衬衫”不是裹尸布,而是父亲新买的银行制服。爸爸穿的是什么? (Drucke 169)口袋里装满了另一个客户,凶残的家族隐喻。这就说明了很多关于口袋的问题。我想提出一个项目,我希望其他人也能参与其中:《纳伯》、《温德》、《舒斯》等关键人物的跨文本意义。这些人物从《人类》(Das Urteil)转移到《生活与艺术》(Ein Bericht f<e:1> r eine Akademie),这是多么引人注目啊,似乎把罗彼得作为一个平庸的艺术家,凭借非凡的努力,获得了“Durchschnittsbildung eines Europäers”(德鲁克312)的轨迹,与卡夫卡对自己能力的野蛮探究联系在一起。回想一下罗彼得的坚持,那颗开启他艺术命运的子弹被特别强调命名为“frevelhaft”(德鲁克302),这个词回到了作者曾经的性欢愉时刻,他的暴力射灯,在“突破”《终极》走向更高的文学命运。这把他带到了一个不那么高尚的地方吗?我恳求回到其他星座——比如伤口、星体躯体、亚历山大大帝以及其他希腊诸神——嵌入不读报纸的文学无意识中。
{"title":"Recovering Kafka's rhetorical unconscious","authors":"Stanley Corngold","doi":"10.1111/gequ.12479","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1111/gequ.12479","url":null,"abstract":"<p>Kafka has become answerable to cultural studies, in one form or another, to an extraordinary degree—a fact that speaks for the seemingly inexhaustible ability of his work to accommodate “forms of the real” both contemporaneous with his writing and in the decades following. So, there is Kafka, with his celebrated “Ohr für das Kommende,” held, as in “Beim Bau der Chinesischen Mauer,” <i>Das Schloß</i>, and <i>Der Proceß</i>, to have anticipated today's intractable border disputes, relentless immigration, and baffling simulacra, as if AI-generated. This approach, now so widely extended, marks, to my mind, a crisis, recalling us to the detail of Kafka's prose that mattered most to him as arising, we might say (and as Lacan has said) from his rhetorical unconscious. We know that it was Kafka's practice to frequent bookstores and riffle through the pages of the new arrivals, something short of reading them with the sort of engagement that justifies his mooted encyclopedic anticipations. His work is certainly full of allusions to contemporary authors and issues suggestive of our own; and even where they are not explicitly named, we are entitled to conclude the impossibility of proving that any such matter was <i>not</i> known to him. For example, he does not appear to have written down the name Nietzsche, but it is certain that he knew a great deal about him. And yet we should not leave home for all this border-crossing. I call for a return to Kafka's text with its special intensity drawn from regions “below,” following “dieses Hinabgehen zu den dunklen Mächten, diese Entfesselung von Natur aus gebundener Geister, fragwürdige Umarmungen und was alles noch unten vor sich gehen mag, von dem man oben nichts mehr weiß, wenn man im Sonnenlicht Geschichten schreibt” (Kafka to Brod; <i>Briefe</i> 384). This underworld is explosive with sexual and aggressive energies, confirmed, as it happens, by Kafka's saying to Max Brod, in answer to Brod's question of what Kafka meant with the concluding sentence of “Das Urteil,” “Ich habe dabei an eine starke Ejakulation gedacht” (Beug and Heller 20).</p><p>Where, exactly, does this alleged crisis take us? In a diary entry, Kafka wrote, “Mein Inneres löst sich […] und ist bereit Tieferes hervorzulassen” (<i>Tagebücher</i> 139). It is a truth universally acknowledged that many of Kafka's most telling inspirations—in the form of pregnant, “vacillating” (Lacan) metaphors—arrive on the page as if expelled from the unconscious: they have something to tell that springs over the artificial, daylit borders between stories. We want to pay attention to them in their rhetorical journey: they have no easy correlates with the empirical <i>Realien</i> of cultural studies, as, for example, the pocket. In “Das Urteil,” this signifier has lethal implications, marking the peak moment of aggression by a son to his father. You recall: as Herr Bendemann and his son Georg seem to share the running of a business, the father declares that he, ","PeriodicalId":54057,"journal":{"name":"GERMAN QUARTERLY","volume":"97 4","pages":"529-531"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2024-10-25","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1111/gequ.12479","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"142862127","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"OA","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Transnational German Film at the End of Neoliberalism: Radical Aesthetics, Radical Politics By Claudia Breger and Olivia Landry (Eds.), Camden House. 2024. pp. 256. $120 (hardcover), $29.95 (ebook).","authors":"Barbara Mennel","doi":"10.1111/gequ.12494","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1111/gequ.12494","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":54057,"journal":{"name":"GERMAN QUARTERLY","volume":"97 4","pages":"570-572"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2024-10-25","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"142869073","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"Murderous Mothers: Late Twentieth-Century Medea Figures and Feminism By Claire E. Scott, Peter Lang. 2022. pp. 212. $72.95 (paperback or ebook)","authors":"Alexandra M. Stewart","doi":"10.1111/gequ.12490","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1111/gequ.12490","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":54057,"journal":{"name":"GERMAN QUARTERLY","volume":"97 4","pages":"564-566"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2024-10-25","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"142862126","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
<p>A curious scene takes place in the middle of Kafka's final novel-fragment, <i>Das Schloß</i>. Having just been upbraided by the headmistress of the school where he has been set up as caretaker, K., now alone with his fiancée Frieda, hears a knock at the door and rushes to open it, thinking it is Barnabas with a message from the Castle. Instead, it turns out to be the young schoolboy Hans Brunswick, the precocious son of the village shoemaker, who tells K. that he was so upset by the headmistress's behavior that he has snuck out of class to childishly offer K. his help. Toward the end of the conversation—which, in its increasingly intricate demands and complications, eventually comes to strangely parallel the intrigues and maneuverings of K.’s own attempts at progress—Frieda, who has been only half listening, asks Hans casually what he would like to be when he grows up. To everyone's surprise, Hans answers without hesitation: “er wolle ein Mann werden wie K.” (236). Given that K. is not only a near total stranger, but also one whose present status hardly seems like something to aspire to, Hans's statement at first appears inexplicable. Upon questioning, however, Hans explains that his wish is not due to K.’s present condition—which, he admits, is “keineswegs beneidenswert, sondern traurig und verächtlich, das sah auch Hans genau” (237)—but rather to the belief that, while “jetzt sei zwar K. noch niedrig und abschrekkend, […] in einer allerdings fast unvorstellbar fernen Zukunft werde er doch alle übertreffen” (237). As the narration continues: “Das besonders kindlich-altkluge dieses Wunsches bestand darin, daß Hans auf K. herabsah wie auf einen Jüngeren, dessen Zukunft sich weiter dehne, als seine eigene, die Zukunft eines kleinen Knaben” (237). For Hans, that is, K.’s story is a tale of the arduous overcoming of present hardships in the service of eventual triumph, a triumph that acquires special value precisely through that overcoming. In other words, it is a <i>Bildungsroman</i>.</p><p>In fairness to Hans's interpretation, the <i>Bildungsroman</i>, as the exemplary genre of the emergence of the individual within a society he must learn to navigate, is perhaps not the worst genre choice for Kafka's novel. And like the hero of the typical <i>Bildungsroman</i>, K. is an unripe or indeed blank figure, despite all superficial obduracy strikingly labile in his desires and thus open to any number of possible futures, possible identities, possible outcomes. Nevertheless—even besides the fact that K. is described in the novel as a grown man, thus theoretically already <i>ausgebildet</i>—the usual arc of struggle, development, and social integration that Hans predicts for K. seems, to say the least, unlikely. But this unlikeliness is not only due to the fact of K.’s actual downward progression in the novel—analog to the descending trajectories of Kafka's other two novel protagonists—where K., far from achieving his goals, proves himself consistently w
卡夫卡的最后一部长篇小说《城堡》(Das Schloß)中间出现了一个奇特的场景。卡夫卡刚刚被学校的女校长训斥了一顿,现在他正和未婚妻弗里达独处,听到敲门声,他急忙打开门,以为是巴纳巴斯带来了城堡的消息。结果,开门的却是村里鞋匠的儿子、早熟的小学生汉斯-不伦瑞克,他告诉 K.,他对女校长的行为非常不满,所以偷偷溜出教室,幼稚地向 K.提供帮助。谈话接近尾声时,只听了一半的弗里达随口问汉斯,长大后想做什么。出乎所有人的意料,汉斯毫不犹豫地回答道"他想成为像 K 一样的男人"(236)。(236).鉴于 K 不仅是一个几乎完全陌生的人,而且其目前的地位似乎也不值得向往,汉斯的回答起初似乎令人费解。不过,汉斯在接受询问时解释说,他的愿望并不是因为 K 目前的状况--他承认,K 目前的状况 "keineswegs beneidenswert, sondern traurig und verächtlich, das sah auch Hans genau"(237)--而是因为他相信,虽然 "jetzt sei zwar K noch niedrig und abschrekkend, [...] in einer allerdings fast unvorstellbar fernen Zukunft werde er doch alle übertreffen"(237)。叙述继续道"汉斯对 K.的爱就像对一个年轻人的爱,他的未来比他自己的未来更美好"(237)。对汉斯来说,K.的故事是一个艰苦卓绝的故事,讲述的是为了最终的胜利而克服当前的困难,这种胜利正是通过克服困难而获得特殊价值的。换句话说,这是一部童话式的长篇小说。平心而论,童话式长篇小说作为个人在他必须学会驾驭的社会中崭露头角的典范体裁,也许并不是卡夫卡小说最糟糕的体裁选择。就像典型的 "成长小说 "中的主人公一样,卡夫卡也是一个尚未成熟的人物,甚至可以说是一个空白的人物,尽管他表面上顽固不化,但他的欲望却十分易变,因此,他可以接受任何可能的未来、可能的身份、可能的结果。尽管如此--即使 K 在小说中被描述为一个成年男子,因而理论上已经长大成人--汉斯为 K 预测的挣扎、发展和社会融合的通常轨迹至少可以说似乎不太可能。但这种不可能不仅是由于 K 在小说中的实际堕落轨迹--与卡夫卡另外两位小说主人公的堕落轨迹类似--K 远未实现自己的目标,他在村子里呆得越久,就证明他始终愿意要求更低,进一步贬低自己。卡夫卡小说中几乎完全没有 "教养 "这一概念所隐含的心理完整性和连续的因果关系,其微薄而又巴洛克式的情节主要由一系列无休止的计谋和解释学上的 "挠痒痒 "组成,这些计谋和 "挠痒痒 "由于背后缺乏一个稳定的符号、一个可被解读的连贯逻辑或一个可与之抗争的具体秩序而瓦解。小说作为传记性的展开,即在特定社会文化背景下按时间顺序讲述个人生活的故事,被一系列潜在的、日益徒劳的尝试所取代,这些尝试就是通过讲述故事来固定身份感、地点感和时间感。"Das Urteil》可被视为卡夫卡对心理现实主义和资产阶级家族继承逻辑的超越(见 Weitzman 94);《Der Verschollene》模仿了霍雷肖-阿尔杰(Horatio Alger)和查尔斯-狄更斯(Charles Dickens)等作家多愁善感的白手起家故事;甚至《Ein Bericht für eine Akademie》或《Forschungen eines Hundes》等作品也可被解读为对成长小说及其通过社会认可和/或启发式实验实现个人成就的承诺的嘲弄。与此同时,卡夫卡风格的不可思议的具体性,尽管充满了命题式的不合逻辑和自由间接的反刍,却模仿了现实主义散文的感性饱满,而从未完全凝聚成后者的 "已经真实的整体"(巴赫金语 46)。因此,在卡夫卡那里,令人不安的不是现实主义的缺失,不是其视觉饱和感和世界构建效果,而是其纯粹的形式表达,是传统真实性的表象,其背后却没有可辨认的真实性。
{"title":"Kafka and Realism","authors":"Erica Weitzman","doi":"10.1111/gequ.12480","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1111/gequ.12480","url":null,"abstract":"<p>A curious scene takes place in the middle of Kafka's final novel-fragment, <i>Das Schloß</i>. Having just been upbraided by the headmistress of the school where he has been set up as caretaker, K., now alone with his fiancée Frieda, hears a knock at the door and rushes to open it, thinking it is Barnabas with a message from the Castle. Instead, it turns out to be the young schoolboy Hans Brunswick, the precocious son of the village shoemaker, who tells K. that he was so upset by the headmistress's behavior that he has snuck out of class to childishly offer K. his help. Toward the end of the conversation—which, in its increasingly intricate demands and complications, eventually comes to strangely parallel the intrigues and maneuverings of K.’s own attempts at progress—Frieda, who has been only half listening, asks Hans casually what he would like to be when he grows up. To everyone's surprise, Hans answers without hesitation: “er wolle ein Mann werden wie K.” (236). Given that K. is not only a near total stranger, but also one whose present status hardly seems like something to aspire to, Hans's statement at first appears inexplicable. Upon questioning, however, Hans explains that his wish is not due to K.’s present condition—which, he admits, is “keineswegs beneidenswert, sondern traurig und verächtlich, das sah auch Hans genau” (237)—but rather to the belief that, while “jetzt sei zwar K. noch niedrig und abschrekkend, […] in einer allerdings fast unvorstellbar fernen Zukunft werde er doch alle übertreffen” (237). As the narration continues: “Das besonders kindlich-altkluge dieses Wunsches bestand darin, daß Hans auf K. herabsah wie auf einen Jüngeren, dessen Zukunft sich weiter dehne, als seine eigene, die Zukunft eines kleinen Knaben” (237). For Hans, that is, K.’s story is a tale of the arduous overcoming of present hardships in the service of eventual triumph, a triumph that acquires special value precisely through that overcoming. In other words, it is a <i>Bildungsroman</i>.</p><p>In fairness to Hans's interpretation, the <i>Bildungsroman</i>, as the exemplary genre of the emergence of the individual within a society he must learn to navigate, is perhaps not the worst genre choice for Kafka's novel. And like the hero of the typical <i>Bildungsroman</i>, K. is an unripe or indeed blank figure, despite all superficial obduracy strikingly labile in his desires and thus open to any number of possible futures, possible identities, possible outcomes. Nevertheless—even besides the fact that K. is described in the novel as a grown man, thus theoretically already <i>ausgebildet</i>—the usual arc of struggle, development, and social integration that Hans predicts for K. seems, to say the least, unlikely. But this unlikeliness is not only due to the fact of K.’s actual downward progression in the novel—analog to the descending trajectories of Kafka's other two novel protagonists—where K., far from achieving his goals, proves himself consistently w","PeriodicalId":54057,"journal":{"name":"GERMAN QUARTERLY","volume":"97 4","pages":"532-535"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2024-10-23","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1111/gequ.12480","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"142862207","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"OA","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
<p>“Vor dem Gesetz steht ein Türhüter“ (<i>Drucke</i> 267). The famous first sentence of Kafka's parable “Vor dem Gesetz” appears on the page as a literal <i>Feststellung</i>, a frozen constellation that will expand into an eternal present for the <i>Mann vom Lande</i> who approaches the <i>Türhüter</i> to ask for entry into the law. The <i>Mann vom Lande</i> is not granted entry and will spend year after year, the remainder of his life, waiting for a change in the situation—which, of course, will never occur. In a cruel irony, as the dying man's consciousness fades away, the <i>Türhüter</i> tells him that “dieser Eingang [zum Gesetz] war nur für Dich bestimmt. Ich gehe jetzt und schließe ihn” (<i>Drucke</i> 269). The first sentence of Kafka's parable, then, turns out to be as much of a foreclosure of narrative development as it is an opening of the text itself.</p><p>The situation into which we as readers are thrown when we encounter the parable's first sentence is not dissimilar from that experienced by the <i>Mann vom Lande</i>. The sentence seemingly opens a path into the text, and yet it also forecloses access: how can we read beyond a sentence that states the opposite of what it shows us? “Before the law there stands a gatekeeper”—and yet, in the word order of the sentence itself, we see that it is not the gatekeeper who stands before the law; rather, the law is quite literally placed before the gatekeeper: <i>ein Türhüter</i> actually stands behind the <i>Gesetz</i>. The sentence's meaning continues to oscillate; it vexes us, and if we decide to read on regardless, we proceed at our own risk. And what we experience if we do read on is not a gradual lifting of our vexed state, but rather what Benjamin termed “die wolkige Stelle i[m] Innern” of the parable (420). Reflecting on Benjamin's reading of Kafka's prose, Adorno observes that what we encounter in Kafka's writing “ist eine Parabolik, zu der der Schlüssel entwendet ward […] Jeder Satz spricht: deute mich, und keiner will es dulden“ (251).</p><p>One hundred years after his death on June 3, 1924, Kafka's texts are as alive as ever. His works continue to disquiet us. Just as the dog in Kafka's “Forschungen eines Hundes” seeks in vain to “restlos durch Untersuchung auflösen“ the puzzle of his encounter with the seven dancing dogs “um den Blick endlich wieder freizubekommen für das gewöhnliche ruhige glückliche Leben des Tages“ (<i>Nachgelassene Schriften</i> 435), we seek in vain to regain our countenance in the face of Kafka's texts. On the morning after his transformation, Gregor Samsa, in <i>Die Verwandlung</i>, keeps hoping for “die Wiederkehr der wirklichen und selbstverständlichen Verhältnisse“ (<i>Drucke</i> 123). We know, of course, that Gregor will never experience such a <i>Wiederkehr</i> and that whatever may have seemed <i>selbstverständlich</i> was in fact <i>missverständlich</i> and may never have been <i>wirklich</i> to begin with. We should also know, though, that like Greg
“vordem Gesetz steht ein rrh<e:1> ter”(Drucke 267)。卡夫卡寓言中著名的第一句话“Vor dem Gesetz”以字面上的Feststellung的形式出现在页面上,一个冰冻的星座将扩展成一个永恒的礼物,送给那些接近<s:1> rhrh<e:1>要求进入法律的Mann vom Lande。他将年复一年地度过余生,等待局势的变化——当然,这种变化永远不会发生。在一个残酷的讽刺中,当垂死的人的意识逐渐消失时,<s:1> rhetz医生告诉他“dieser Eingang [zum Gesetz] war nur fich beestimmt”。“我认为我是一个怪人”(德鲁克269)。因此,卡夫卡寓言的第一句话,既是文本本身的开端,也是对叙事发展的一种剥夺。作为读者,当我们遇到寓言的第一句话时,我们所处的情境,与《曼·冯·兰德》所经历的情境并无不同。这句话似乎打开了一条通往文本的道路,但它也阻止了通往文本的道路:我们怎么能读懂一个与它向我们展示的相反的句子?“在法律面前站着一个守门人”——然而,从这句话本身的语序中,我们可以看出,站在法律面前的并不是守门人;相反,法律实际上是摆在看门人面前的:ein trrh<e:1> ter实际上站在Gesetz的后面。句子的意思继续摇摆不定;这让我们很烦恼,如果我们决定不顾一切地继续读下去,我们就得自担风险。如果我们继续读下去,我们所经历的并不是烦恼状态的逐渐解除,而是本雅明所说的寓言中的“die wolkige Stelle i[m] Innern”(420)。在反思本雅明对卡夫卡散文的阅读时,阿多诺观察到,我们在卡夫卡的作品中遇到的是“ist eine Parabolik, zu der der schlssel entwendet ward[…]”(251)。卡夫卡于1924年6月3日去世,100年后的今天,他的作品依然鲜活。他的作品继续使我们不安。正如卡夫卡的《未来》(Forschungen eines Hundes)中的那只狗徒劳地寻求“restlos durch Untersuchung auflösen”他与七只跳舞的狗相遇的困惑“um den Blick endlich wider freizubekommen f<e:1> r das gewöhnliche ruhige glicliche Leben des Tages”(Nachgelassene Schriften 435)一样,我们徒劳地寻求在卡夫卡的文本面前恢复我们的表情。在他变形后的那个早晨,格里格·萨姆萨在《生命之龙》中一直希望“Die Wiederkehr der wirklichen und selbstverständlichen Verhältnisse”(Drucke 123)。当然,我们知道格里高尔永远不会经历这样的场面,任何看起来selbstverständlich的东西实际上都是missverständlich,而且可能从一开始就不是魔术。不过,我们也应该知道,和格里高一样,我们与卡夫卡的相遇也让我们受到了“aus unruhigen Träumen”(德鲁克113)的触动,只要我们听到他的声音,我们就永远不要指望我们对世界的感知会恢复到我们可能认为的“die wirklichen und selbstverständlichen Verhältnisse”。卡夫卡的文本在那些遇到它们的人身上引发的变形是不可逆转的。在过去的100年里,无数读者的声音见证了这种转变。卡夫卡逝世一百周年论坛提供了一个空间来强调其中的一些声音。当然,我们不可能在这些书页中捕捉到当代卡夫卡学术的全部广度和多样性。但接下来的贡献包括来自不同年代的学者对卡夫卡的致敬,他们反映了卡夫卡作品的各种令人兴奋的方法。论坛以Anette Schwarz对上文提到的卡夫卡作品中“wolkige Stelle”的思考,特别是本雅明在卡夫卡去世十年后对他的评价作为开场。和本雅明一样,施瓦茨特别感兴趣的是卡夫卡《背叛》中儿童的形象,他们和卡夫卡笔下的许多人物一样,正在寻找一个奥斯维辛。施瓦茨认为,这些孩子可能是卡夫卡的家人,为他提供了一个文学的家。斯坦利·康戈尔德(Stanley Corngold)诙谐地认为,今年的百年纪念可能是恢复卡夫卡的修辞无意识的完美时机。在反思卡夫卡文本中的“口袋”时,康戈尔德提供了他自己的优雅的Taschenspielertrick,溜进,或者更确切地说,根据情况,从我们自己的学术口袋里掏出一个可能被压抑的文学卡夫卡的记忆。这样一个文学上的卡夫卡是埃里卡·韦茨曼反思的中心,他把《人间》作为一部成长小说来阅读,并让我们把小说片段理解为对现实主义文学废墟的尖锐批判和讽刺思考。Nadjib Sadikou从跨文化的角度来解读卡夫卡的《Schloß》。
{"title":"Introduction: The persistence of Kafka in a metamorphosing world","authors":"Imke Meyer","doi":"10.1111/gequ.12481","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1111/gequ.12481","url":null,"abstract":"<p>“Vor dem Gesetz steht ein Türhüter“ (<i>Drucke</i> 267). The famous first sentence of Kafka's parable “Vor dem Gesetz” appears on the page as a literal <i>Feststellung</i>, a frozen constellation that will expand into an eternal present for the <i>Mann vom Lande</i> who approaches the <i>Türhüter</i> to ask for entry into the law. The <i>Mann vom Lande</i> is not granted entry and will spend year after year, the remainder of his life, waiting for a change in the situation—which, of course, will never occur. In a cruel irony, as the dying man's consciousness fades away, the <i>Türhüter</i> tells him that “dieser Eingang [zum Gesetz] war nur für Dich bestimmt. Ich gehe jetzt und schließe ihn” (<i>Drucke</i> 269). The first sentence of Kafka's parable, then, turns out to be as much of a foreclosure of narrative development as it is an opening of the text itself.</p><p>The situation into which we as readers are thrown when we encounter the parable's first sentence is not dissimilar from that experienced by the <i>Mann vom Lande</i>. The sentence seemingly opens a path into the text, and yet it also forecloses access: how can we read beyond a sentence that states the opposite of what it shows us? “Before the law there stands a gatekeeper”—and yet, in the word order of the sentence itself, we see that it is not the gatekeeper who stands before the law; rather, the law is quite literally placed before the gatekeeper: <i>ein Türhüter</i> actually stands behind the <i>Gesetz</i>. The sentence's meaning continues to oscillate; it vexes us, and if we decide to read on regardless, we proceed at our own risk. And what we experience if we do read on is not a gradual lifting of our vexed state, but rather what Benjamin termed “die wolkige Stelle i[m] Innern” of the parable (420). Reflecting on Benjamin's reading of Kafka's prose, Adorno observes that what we encounter in Kafka's writing “ist eine Parabolik, zu der der Schlüssel entwendet ward […] Jeder Satz spricht: deute mich, und keiner will es dulden“ (251).</p><p>One hundred years after his death on June 3, 1924, Kafka's texts are as alive as ever. His works continue to disquiet us. Just as the dog in Kafka's “Forschungen eines Hundes” seeks in vain to “restlos durch Untersuchung auflösen“ the puzzle of his encounter with the seven dancing dogs “um den Blick endlich wieder freizubekommen für das gewöhnliche ruhige glückliche Leben des Tages“ (<i>Nachgelassene Schriften</i> 435), we seek in vain to regain our countenance in the face of Kafka's texts. On the morning after his transformation, Gregor Samsa, in <i>Die Verwandlung</i>, keeps hoping for “die Wiederkehr der wirklichen und selbstverständlichen Verhältnisse“ (<i>Drucke</i> 123). We know, of course, that Gregor will never experience such a <i>Wiederkehr</i> and that whatever may have seemed <i>selbstverständlich</i> was in fact <i>missverständlich</i> and may never have been <i>wirklich</i> to begin with. We should also know, though, that like Greg","PeriodicalId":54057,"journal":{"name":"GERMAN QUARTERLY","volume":"97 4","pages":"522-525"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2024-10-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1111/gequ.12481","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"142859924","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"OA","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
<p>Our singer is called Franz. “Wer [ihn] nicht gehört hat, kennt nicht die Macht des Gesanges” (Kafka 193). These (slightly altered) opening lines of “Josefine, die Sängerin oder Das Volk der Mäuse” came to mind when an audience member came up to me after a presentation I gave recently on “Kafka in the Age of Artificial Intelligence.” She lamented the fact that not one of her students in the past three years had a notion of who Franz Kafka was. I was not surprised. For years, so many of us have relied on high school literature classes to introduce at least one of Kafka's stories to our students—usually it had been <i>The Metamorphosis</i>—that served as a base we could build on to take them to higher levels of understanding and appreciation of this world literary phenomenon. The new normal means that without a “canon” or “cultural literacy” as we knew it in the twentieth century (and I fully realize how loaded those two terms are today), Franz, the singer, like his beloved mouse Josephine, “wird [wohl]…bald…in gesteigerter Erlösung vergessen sein wie alle [seine] Brüder” (209). In Kafka's story “Ein Bericht für eine Akademie,” Rotpeter, the chimpanzee, explains that he managed to attain “die Durchschnittsbildung eines Europäers” (174). Our task to keep Kafka's works alive and part of “the cultural level of an average” <i>college student</i> (European or otherwise) has now become a bit more difficult. Like the protagonist of “Der Bau,” however, I am prepared “mit der Stirn…tausend- und tausendmal tage- und nächtelang gegen die Erde [anzurennen]” (425) and keep delving into Kafka's texts, long and short, to (I hope) illuminate the power—and absolute joy—of his writing.</p><p>I find that Kafka's accessibility begins with the little texts, which are, perhaps, also his most humorous. I never cease to enjoy Kafka's own evident amusement in writing his little story “Poseidon,” perhaps my favorite of his smaller pieces. Since I am working on a special issue on <i>Kafka in the Age of Artificial Intelligence</i> for the online journal <i>Humanities</i> that should be out later this year, I have come to think of “Poseidon” in this strange new context.</p><p>Kafka wrote this gem in 1920, but it was published only posthumously in 1936 in an edition by Max Brod. Poseidon, in Kafka's tale, is not the glorious god we think of from mythology. Instead of being the divine master over all the waters of the earth, Kafka's Poseidon is reduced to the role of bureaucratic administrator. Like a department chair, he spends his time at a desk running and rerunning calculations. Driven by a blind work ethic and an exaggerated sense of responsibility, this Poseidon devotes himself completely to his job. We are told he has tried to find another line of work—one might imagine him today going online to Monster.com—but all his attempts to find other work are doomed to failure, since as god of the oceans he is destined to assume the managerial post over the waters of the world.<
我们的歌手叫弗朗茨。“we [ihn] nicht gehört hat, kennt nicht die Macht des Gesanges”(卡夫卡193)。我最近做了一场关于“人工智能时代的卡夫卡”的演讲,演讲结束后,一位观众走到我面前,我想起了“约瑟芬,死Sängerin oder Das Volk der Mäuse”的开头几句(略有改动)。在过去的三年里,她的学生中没有一个人知道弗朗茨·卡夫卡是谁,这让她感到遗憾。我并不感到惊讶。多年来,我们中的许多人都依靠高中文学课向学生们介绍卡夫卡的至少一个故事——通常是《变形记》——作为一个基础,我们可以在此基础上把他们带到更高层次的理解和欣赏这个世界文学现象。新常态意味着,如果没有我们在20世纪所知道的“经典”或“文化知识”(我完全意识到这两个术语在今天是多么沉重),歌手弗朗茨就像他心爱的老鼠约瑟芬一样,“风[wohl]…秃顶…in gesteigerter Erlösung vergessen sein wie alle [seine] br<e:1> der”(209)。在卡夫卡的故事“Ein Bericht f<e:1> r eine Akademie”中,黑猩猩Rotpeter解释说他设法获得了“die Durchschnittsbildung eines Europäers”(174)。我们的任务是让卡夫卡的作品保持活力,让它成为“普通”大学生(欧洲或其他国家)文化水平的一部分,现在变得有点困难了。然而,就像《人》的主人公一样,我准备好了“mit Der Stirn…tausend- und tausendmal tage- und nächtelang gegen die Erde [anzurennen]”(425),并继续深入研究卡夫卡的文本,无论长短,(我希望)阐明他写作的力量和绝对的乐趣。我发现卡夫卡的易读性始于小文本,这也许也是他最幽默的地方。我从未停止欣赏卡夫卡在写他的小故事《波塞冬》(Poseidon)时那种明显的乐趣,这可能是我最喜欢的小作品。由于我正在为在线期刊《人文》(Humanities)撰写一期关于人工智能时代的卡夫卡的特刊,这期特刊将于今年晚些时候出版,我开始在这个奇怪的新背景下思考“波塞冬”。卡夫卡写于1920年,但直到他死后的1936年才由马克斯·布罗德(Max Brod)出版。在卡夫卡的故事中,波塞冬并不是我们从神话中想象出来的荣耀之神。卡夫卡笔下的波塞冬不再是掌管地球上所有水域的神圣主人,而是沦为了官僚管理者的角色。就像系主任一样,他把时间都花在桌子前反复计算上。在盲目的职业道德和夸大的责任感的驱使下,这位波塞冬全身心地投入到他的工作中。我们被告知,他曾试图寻找另一份工作——可以想象他今天会上网去monster.com——但他所有寻找其他工作的尝试都注定要失败,因为作为海洋之神,他注定要担任管理世界水域的职位。考虑到我们对人工智能的了解,我们确实会想到,如果波塞冬能够使用这种技术工具进行计算和预测,他可能会过得更轻松,更享受他的工作。至少在目前,人工智能的一大卖点是,它可以通过完成需要人类大脑大量时间的任务来提高生产力。尽管人工智能的在线广告就像《审判》(the Trial)中对约瑟夫·k (Joseph K.)的指控一样难以把握,但几个月前,一家公司发布了这样的广告:“人工智能可以自动执行许多手动会计任务,包括数据收集、数据输入、分类、对账和发票,从而使会计师腾出时间从事更具战略性的项目,并与客户互动。”(QuickBooks)想想卡夫卡笔下的波塞冬在工作中会有多满意,他给朱庇特的报告会有多好。此外,人工智能可以计划他的旅行,这样他就可以在他的领域内真正看到并航行海洋,而不是几乎看不到海洋,“nur flchtig beim eiligen Aufstieg zum olympic”(354)。另一则关于人工智能的广告是这样写的:“智能代理可以省去计划旅行的所有麻烦,为旅行者提供量身定制的行程和建议,并支持他们实现这些计划”(莫达瓦尔)。如果是这样的话,波塞冬就不必以“er warte damit bis zum Weltuntergang, dann werde sich noch instiller Augenblick ergeben, whoer knapp vor dem Ende nach Durchsicht der letzten rechunung noch schnell eine kleine Rundfahrt werde machen können”为借口(354)。毫无疑问,卡夫卡笔下的波塞冬可以从ChatGPT中获益。像波塞冬一样,人工智能从来没有假期。像波塞冬一样,它得到了关于宇宙现实的无数但遥远的报告。人工智能
{"title":"Kafka in the age of artificial intelligence","authors":"Ruth V. Gross","doi":"10.1111/gequ.12482","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1111/gequ.12482","url":null,"abstract":"<p>Our singer is called Franz. “Wer [ihn] nicht gehört hat, kennt nicht die Macht des Gesanges” (Kafka 193). These (slightly altered) opening lines of “Josefine, die Sängerin oder Das Volk der Mäuse” came to mind when an audience member came up to me after a presentation I gave recently on “Kafka in the Age of Artificial Intelligence.” She lamented the fact that not one of her students in the past three years had a notion of who Franz Kafka was. I was not surprised. For years, so many of us have relied on high school literature classes to introduce at least one of Kafka's stories to our students—usually it had been <i>The Metamorphosis</i>—that served as a base we could build on to take them to higher levels of understanding and appreciation of this world literary phenomenon. The new normal means that without a “canon” or “cultural literacy” as we knew it in the twentieth century (and I fully realize how loaded those two terms are today), Franz, the singer, like his beloved mouse Josephine, “wird [wohl]…bald…in gesteigerter Erlösung vergessen sein wie alle [seine] Brüder” (209). In Kafka's story “Ein Bericht für eine Akademie,” Rotpeter, the chimpanzee, explains that he managed to attain “die Durchschnittsbildung eines Europäers” (174). Our task to keep Kafka's works alive and part of “the cultural level of an average” <i>college student</i> (European or otherwise) has now become a bit more difficult. Like the protagonist of “Der Bau,” however, I am prepared “mit der Stirn…tausend- und tausendmal tage- und nächtelang gegen die Erde [anzurennen]” (425) and keep delving into Kafka's texts, long and short, to (I hope) illuminate the power—and absolute joy—of his writing.</p><p>I find that Kafka's accessibility begins with the little texts, which are, perhaps, also his most humorous. I never cease to enjoy Kafka's own evident amusement in writing his little story “Poseidon,” perhaps my favorite of his smaller pieces. Since I am working on a special issue on <i>Kafka in the Age of Artificial Intelligence</i> for the online journal <i>Humanities</i> that should be out later this year, I have come to think of “Poseidon” in this strange new context.</p><p>Kafka wrote this gem in 1920, but it was published only posthumously in 1936 in an edition by Max Brod. Poseidon, in Kafka's tale, is not the glorious god we think of from mythology. Instead of being the divine master over all the waters of the earth, Kafka's Poseidon is reduced to the role of bureaucratic administrator. Like a department chair, he spends his time at a desk running and rerunning calculations. Driven by a blind work ethic and an exaggerated sense of responsibility, this Poseidon devotes himself completely to his job. We are told he has tried to find another line of work—one might imagine him today going online to Monster.com—but all his attempts to find other work are doomed to failure, since as god of the oceans he is destined to assume the managerial post over the waters of the world.<","PeriodicalId":54057,"journal":{"name":"GERMAN QUARTERLY","volume":"97 4","pages":"544-546"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2024-10-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1111/gequ.12482","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"142859923","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"OA","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
{"title":"German Ways of War: The Affective Geographies and Generic Transformations of German War Films By Jaimey Fisher, Rutgers University Press. 2022. pp. 250. $150.00 (hardback), $37.95 (paperback), $37.95 (ebook)","authors":"Larson Powell","doi":"10.1111/gequ.12493","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1111/gequ.12493","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":54057,"journal":{"name":"GERMAN QUARTERLY","volume":"97 4","pages":"560-563"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2024-10-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"142862000","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
The nineteenth-century discovery of the matrilineal origins of society shattered assumptions about the necessity of the bourgeois family. For Marxists, ethnographic studies of the mother right provided an aesthetic form to reevaluate the “woman question” from a scientific perspective. Although Marx and Engels had long rejected the idea of the family in favor of “family forms,” Engels's adaptation of Morgan's Ancient Society (1877) in Der Ursprung der Familie, des Privateigentums und des Staats (1884) was canonized as the authoritative Marxist text on the subject. While the ethnographic form enabled the denaturalization of the family, its racialized and gendered temporality undercut socialist critiques of social forms. This article introduces Lu Märten's queer utopian response to the mother right, Geschichte der Frau vom Mutterrecht bis zur Gegenwart (1947), which dispenses with the evolutionary structure of the ethnographic study to offer a vision of polyamorous and androgynous forms in a classless society.
{"title":"Forms of the Mother Right: Marxism's Matriarchal Origins from Friedrich Engels to Lu Märten","authors":"Mari Jarris","doi":"10.1111/gequ.12477","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1111/gequ.12477","url":null,"abstract":"<p>The nineteenth-century discovery of the matrilineal origins of society shattered assumptions about the necessity of the bourgeois family. For Marxists, ethnographic studies of the mother right provided an aesthetic form to reevaluate the “woman question” from a scientific perspective. Although Marx and Engels had long rejected the idea of <i>the</i> family in favor of “family forms,” Engels's adaptation of Morgan's <i>Ancient Society</i> (1877) in <i>Der Ursprung der Familie, des Privateigentums und des Staats</i> (1884) was canonized as the authoritative Marxist text on the subject. While the ethnographic form enabled the denaturalization of the family, its racialized and gendered temporality undercut socialist critiques of social forms. This article introduces Lu Märten's queer utopian response to the mother right, <i>Geschichte der Frau vom Mutterrecht bis zur Gegenwart</i> (1947), which dispenses with the evolutionary structure of the ethnographic study to offer a vision of polyamorous and androgynous forms in a classless society.</p>","PeriodicalId":54057,"journal":{"name":"GERMAN QUARTERLY","volume":"97 4","pages":"472-489"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2024-10-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"142861963","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
<p>The many explanations of the geological age of the Anthropocene typically feature the question of just how much the <i>Anthropos</i> has already altered the planet's ecosystems and how much future change will result now that “we,” or rather, industrialized humans consumed by fossil fuels and extractivist, plantation economics, have attained the status of a geological force. Such large-scale agency! But collective agency is not always celebrated by the extractivist systems fueling the Anthropocene with visions of a supposedly enlightened individual subject driven by what is claimed to be the rationality of profits and power (Plumwood; Dürbeck et al.). Indeed, let us ask what human agency actually is, considering the fact that <i>Anthropos</i>-industrial activities collectively impinge on the entire planet, thereby erasing the hopes of full-blown individual agency not only for those enhanced by industrial technology and economics, but also for Indigenous and other groups who resist or who are excluded, like much of the Global South, from the much-celebrated benefits (but not the costs) of the fossil-fueled frenzy.</p><p>While the Anthropocene is typically considered to have begun in the late eighteenth century with the industrial revolution (this origin story is heavily debated), I look here to Franz Kafka's famous story <i>Die Verwandlung</i>, written when industrial powers were rapidly expanding in the early twentieth century, precisely because its transformation of the human into a cockroach or dung beetle disturbs with bodily materiality the euphoric trajectory of what is often understood as the increasing “freedom” of individual human agency. Similarly, Kafka's “Strafkolonie” portrays how human bodies engage—agentially, willingly?—with the industrial, colonial machinery writ large (and penetratingly). Here we are today, delving again into Kafka's tales of bodily horror, lack of individual agency, and gruesome interactions with machines in order to map out a sense of our bodily fates in the Anthropocene's current mass extinction event, genocidal plantation and agricultural practices, and climate change (Kolbert; Bittman).</p><p>In his seminal essay, “The Climate of History: Four Theses,” Dipesh Chakrabarty notes that discussions of “freedom” from the Enlightenment through today fail to acknowledge how the expanded use of fossil fuels, especially oil, enabled our very modern sense of power, freedom, and individuality: “In no discussion of freedom in the period since the Enlightenment was there ever any awareness of the geological agency that human beings were acquiring at the same time as and through processes closely linked to their acquisition of freedom […]. The mansion of modern freedoms stands on an ever-expanding base of fossil-fuel use” (Chakrabarty 208). In other words, the actuality of increasingly vast and non-individual agency is shrouded by celebratory discourses of individual power. Human agency in the Anthropocene has taken new
{"title":"Kafka and the Anthropocene","authors":"Heather I. Sullivan","doi":"10.1111/gequ.12489","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1111/gequ.12489","url":null,"abstract":"<p>The many explanations of the geological age of the Anthropocene typically feature the question of just how much the <i>Anthropos</i> has already altered the planet's ecosystems and how much future change will result now that “we,” or rather, industrialized humans consumed by fossil fuels and extractivist, plantation economics, have attained the status of a geological force. Such large-scale agency! But collective agency is not always celebrated by the extractivist systems fueling the Anthropocene with visions of a supposedly enlightened individual subject driven by what is claimed to be the rationality of profits and power (Plumwood; Dürbeck et al.). Indeed, let us ask what human agency actually is, considering the fact that <i>Anthropos</i>-industrial activities collectively impinge on the entire planet, thereby erasing the hopes of full-blown individual agency not only for those enhanced by industrial technology and economics, but also for Indigenous and other groups who resist or who are excluded, like much of the Global South, from the much-celebrated benefits (but not the costs) of the fossil-fueled frenzy.</p><p>While the Anthropocene is typically considered to have begun in the late eighteenth century with the industrial revolution (this origin story is heavily debated), I look here to Franz Kafka's famous story <i>Die Verwandlung</i>, written when industrial powers were rapidly expanding in the early twentieth century, precisely because its transformation of the human into a cockroach or dung beetle disturbs with bodily materiality the euphoric trajectory of what is often understood as the increasing “freedom” of individual human agency. Similarly, Kafka's “Strafkolonie” portrays how human bodies engage—agentially, willingly?—with the industrial, colonial machinery writ large (and penetratingly). Here we are today, delving again into Kafka's tales of bodily horror, lack of individual agency, and gruesome interactions with machines in order to map out a sense of our bodily fates in the Anthropocene's current mass extinction event, genocidal plantation and agricultural practices, and climate change (Kolbert; Bittman).</p><p>In his seminal essay, “The Climate of History: Four Theses,” Dipesh Chakrabarty notes that discussions of “freedom” from the Enlightenment through today fail to acknowledge how the expanded use of fossil fuels, especially oil, enabled our very modern sense of power, freedom, and individuality: “In no discussion of freedom in the period since the Enlightenment was there ever any awareness of the geological agency that human beings were acquiring at the same time as and through processes closely linked to their acquisition of freedom […]. The mansion of modern freedoms stands on an ever-expanding base of fossil-fuel use” (Chakrabarty 208). In other words, the actuality of increasingly vast and non-individual agency is shrouded by celebratory discourses of individual power. Human agency in the Anthropocene has taken new ","PeriodicalId":54057,"journal":{"name":"GERMAN QUARTERLY","volume":"97 4","pages":"540-543"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2024-10-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1111/gequ.12489","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"142862001","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"文学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"OA","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}