January
reading in cool rooms includes an irresistible return to Kafka, his challenged
reactions to ancient myth. He rewrites Poseidon, Prometheus to make them his
own, then adds further versions. Moses, Elijah, Franz argues with them in the
Jewish Quarter. Habsburg manners too, emperors and interrogators turn into
their opposite numbers. The pages of my Penguin (1988) are russet edges and
oatmeal brown centres. I challenge his reactions, how to deal with the myth of
a Prague Jew writing in German? Laughter comes from irritation, wonder out of
despair. In his version, the sirens’ silence is terrifying as their song.
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