Afterwords and notes to the novel “Castle. Franz Kafka “The Castle”: review of the book Kafka Castle analysis of the work

Franz Kafka

1. Arrival

K. arrived late in the evening. The village was drowning in deep snow. Castle Hill was not visible. Fog and darkness covered it, and the huge Castle did not make itself felt by the slightest glimmer of light. K. stood for a long time on the wooden bridge that led from the road to the Village, and looked into the seeming emptiness.

Then he went to look for accommodation for the night. There was still no sleep at the inn, and although the owner did not rent out rooms, he was so confused and embarrassed by the arrival of a late guest that he allowed K. to take a straw mattress and lie down in the common room. K. readily agreed. Several peasants were still finishing their beer, but K. did not want to talk to anyone, he himself pulled the mattress from the attic and lay down by the stove. It was very warm, the peasants did not make any noise, and, looking at them once again with a tired look, K. fell asleep.

But soon he was woken up. A young man with an actor's face - narrow eyes, thick eyebrows - stood above him next to his owner. The peasants had not yet dispersed; some of them had turned their chairs so that they could see and hear better. The young man very politely apologized for waking K., introduced himself as the son of the castellan of the Castle, and then said: “This Village belongs to the Castle, and whoever lives or spends the night here actually lives and spends the night in the Castle. And no one is allowed to do this without the count’s permission. You don’t have such permission, or at least you haven’t presented it.”

K. stood up, smoothed his hair, looked up at these people and said: “What Village did I end up in? Is there a Castle here?

“Of course,” the young man said slowly, and some people around looked at K. and shook their heads. “This is where Count Westwest’s Castle is located.”

“So, we need to get permission to spend the night?” – asked K., as if wanting to make sure that he didn’t dream these words.

“Permission must be obtained,” the young man answered him and, with obvious mockery of K., throwing up his hands, asked the owner and visitors: “Is it possible without permission?”

“Well, I’ll have to get permission,” said K., yawning and throwing back the blanket as if he was about to get up.

“Who has it?” – asked the young man.

“Mr. Count,” said K., “what else remains to be done?”

“Now, at midnight, should I take permission from Mr. Count?” – the young man exclaimed, taking a step back.

“Isn’t it possible? - K asked indifferently. “Why did you wake me up then?”

But then the young man completely lost his temper. “Are you used to wandering? - he shouted. “I demand respect for the count’s employees.” And I woke you up to inform you that you must immediately leave the count’s possessions.”

“But enough of the comedy,” K. said in a deliberately quiet voice, lying down and pulling the blanket over himself. “You allow yourself too much, young man, and tomorrow we will talk more about your behavior.” Both the owner and all these gentlemen can confirm everything, if confirmation is needed at all. And I can only report to you that I am the land surveyor whom the Count summoned to him. My assistants with all the equipment will arrive tomorrow. And I wanted to walk in the snow, but, unfortunately, I lost my way several times and that’s why I got here so late. I knew myself, without your instructions, that now was not the time to come to the Castle. That is why I was content with this overnight stay, which you, to put it mildly, disrupted so impolitely. This is where my explanation ends. Good night, gentlemen! And K. turned to the stove. "Surveyor?" – he heard someone timidly ask behind him, then there was silence. But the young man immediately controlled himself and said to the owner in a voice restrained enough to emphasize respect for the falling asleep K., but still loud enough for him to hear: “I can handle it on the phone.” So this inn even has a telephone? We settled in perfectly. Although some things surprised K., he, in general, took everything for granted. It turned out that the phone was hanging right above his head, but in his sleepiness he did not notice it. And if the young man starts calling, then no matter how hard he tries, K.’s sleep will certainly be disturbed, unless K. does not allow him to call. However, K. decided not to interfere with him. But then there was no point in pretending to be asleep, and K. turned on his back again. He saw that the peasants were timidly huddled together and talking; Apparently, the arrival of a land surveyor is an important matter. The kitchen doors swung open, the entire doorway was occupied by the powerful figure of the hostess, and the owner, approaching her on tiptoe, began to explain something. And then the telephone conversation began. The castellan himself was asleep, but the castellan's assistant, or rather one of his assistants, Mr. Fritz, was on the spot. A young man who called himself Schwarzer said that he discovered a certain K., a man of about thirty, very poorly dressed, who was calmly sleeping on a straw mattress, with a backpack under his head instead of a pillow, and a gnarled stick next to him. Of course, this aroused suspicion, and since the owner clearly neglected his duties, he, Schwarzer, considered it his duty to delve into his business properly, but K. was very hostile to the fact that he was woken up, interrogated and threatened to be expelled from the count’s possessions , although, perhaps, he was rightfully angry, since he claims that he is a land surveyor, whom the count himself called. Of course, it is necessary, at least to comply with formalities, to check this statement, so Schwarzer asks Mr. Fritz to inquire at the Central Office whether a land surveyor is really expected there, and to immediately report the result by telephone.

It became completely quiet; Fritz made inquiries, and then they waited for an answer. K. lay motionless, he did not even turn around and, without showing any interest, stared at one point. Schwarzer's unkind and at the same time cautious report spoke of some diplomatic training that even the most insignificant people like Schwarzer apparently undergo in the Castle. And, apparently, they worked there conscientiously, since the Central Office was open at night. And the certificates were issued, apparently, immediately: Fritz called right away. The answer was, apparently, very short, and Schwarzer angrily hung up. "As I said! - he shouted. “He’s no land surveyor, just a vile liar and a tramp, and maybe worse.”

At the first minute, K. thought that everyone - the peasants, Schwarzer, and the owner and mistress - would rush at him. He dived under the blanket - at least to hide from the first attack. But then the phone rang again, as it seemed to K., especially loudly. He carefully stuck his head out. And although it seemed unlikely that the call concerned K., everyone stopped, and Schwarzer approached the machine. He listened to a long explanation and said quietly: “So it’s a mistake? I'm very uncomfortable. What, the head of the Chancellery himself called? Strange, strange. What should I tell Mr. Land Surveyor?”

Work on the novel began in January 1922. On January 22, Kafka arrived at the resort of Spindleruv Mlýn. Initially, the author planned to write in the first person, but later changed his mind. Kafka shared his plans for the novel with his friend Max Brod. In September 1922, in a letter to Brod, the writer said that he did not intend to continue working on “The Castle”.

The author calls the main character of the novel by his initial - K. The main character arrived in a settlement whose name is not indicated. The author simply calls it the Village. The Village Administration is located in the Castle. K. informs the son of the Castle caretaker that he has been hired as a surveyor and that he is awaiting the arrival of his assistants. You cannot enter the Castle without special permission.

Soon Jeremiah and Arthur arrive, calling themselves assistant land surveyors. K. doesn’t know these people. The bellboy Barnabas and his sister Olga help the main character settle into a hotel, where K. falls in love with the barmaid Frida. The barmaid was the mistress of Klamm, a high-ranking official. Having found a new lover, Frida leaves her position as a barmaid. Now she is the protagonist's fiancée.

K. goes to the village headman, who explains that the village does not need a land surveyor. When an order was sent from the Castle office to prepare for the arrival of a worker, the headman informed the Castle that a land surveyor was not needed. Perhaps the letter did not reach the address, and the office did not recognize the headman’s answer. The main character cannot work in his specialty. However, so that his arrival would not be in vain, the headman offers K. to work as a school watchman. The main character had to accept this offer.

The main character wants to talk to his fiancee's ex-lover and is waiting for him near the hotel. But the official managed to leave without being noticed. K. comes to see Klamm's secretary. The secretary invites K. to undergo interrogation. The main character refuses. Soon K. finds out that they want to fire him from his job, but he does not agree with this. K. was able to keep his job.

Olga tells the surveyor about her family. She has a sister Amalia, who rejected the advances of one of the local “celestials”. Because of this, the sisters' father lost his position. Frida feels jealous seeing her fiancé in Olga's company. K.'s fiancée decided to return to her previous workplace. The secretary with whom K. spoke summons the land surveyor and advises him to facilitate the return of his bride to her previous position. The secretary claims that his boss is too used to Frida and does not want to part with her.

The place in the buffet is temporarily occupied by Pepi. She invites the main character to move into the maids' room, where Pepi herself and her two friends live. Meanwhile, the groom Gerstecker offered the land surveyor to work in the stable. K. comes to Gerstecker's house. At this episode the manuscript ends.

Characteristics

All the characters in the novel can be divided into two camps. The first camp includes the residents of the Village, the second – the inhabitants of the Castle.

The villagers are a faceless gray mass. It is possible, however, to name characters who stand out from among their own kind, for example, the barmaid Frida. The author speaks of the barmaid as a woman of unknown age with very mediocre appearance. Frida is ugly, but this did not prevent her from getting a good job in life. She was Klamm's mistress, then became the land surveyor's fiancée. Realizing, however, that this is not beneficial for her, Frida returns to her former lover. The barmaid has many connections that make her a useful person.

Most of the Village's residents are not as successful as Frida. They drag out their miserable existence among gray everyday life and eternal winter. The only thing that saves them from worsening their situation is the ability to go with the flow. The main character K. does not have such an ability. As a result, K. constantly has to find himself in conflict situations. Perhaps the author himself is hidden under the initials of the main character (K. - Kafka). The author feels out of place, in a world hostile to him, the walls of which can collapse on his head at any moment.

Castle Inhabitants

If we accept the hypothesis that by the inhabitants of the Castle the author means God, angels, archangels, etc., after studying Kafka’s attitude towards officials, we can draw a conclusion about how the author relates to God.

The negative traits that Kafka endowed with the “celestials” will not go unnoticed. For refusing to obey the will of one of the officials, the family of a girl named Amalia is severely punished. The inhabitants of the Castle need to please, if only so that life does not get even worse.

The incredible story that happened to traveling salesman Gregor Samsa in Kafka’s “Metamorphosis” largely echoes the life of the author himself - a closed, insecure ascetic prone to eternal self-condemnation.

Franz Kafka’s absolutely unique book “The Trial”, which actually “created” his name for the culture of world postmodern theater and cinema of the second half of the 20th century.

The author is not only disappointed in life in the Village, he is gradually becoming disillusioned with life “above.” K. discovers that, despite the fact that getting to the Castle is the aisle of dreams for each of the residents of the Village, those who still managed to get to a better life do not feel happy. Even Frida, who managed to adapt and take an advantageous place, admits that she is dissatisfied. Frida was able to become Klamm's mistress, but not his legal wife. This means that at any moment she can be replaced by a younger and more beautiful rival. The former barmaid invites her fiance to leave.

According to most researchers of Kafka’s work, in one of his most mysterious novels, the author touches on the problem of man’s path to God. “The Castle” is a work that is more metaphorical and allegorical than fantastic. The location of the novel is not determined. It is difficult to determine even by the names and surnames of the characters.

Presumably, the Village is a symbol of the earthly world. The Castle means the Kingdom of Heaven. An eternal winter reigns in the Village, which, according to Pepi, is occasionally replaced by a short-lived spring. Winter implies the coldness of earthly life, its hopelessness and cruelty. The arrival of the main character in the Village is the birth of a person in this world. Throughout their entire stay in the Village, that is, on earth, people are constantly looking for the way to the Castle (to God). When the Castle is eventually found, the person leaves the Village (earthly life).

Finding himself in an unfamiliar settlement, the surveyor realizes that all the laws of life familiar to him in the territory of the Village do not apply. Here people live according to different rules, different logic. K. is constantly trying to solve the problems he has with the help of the knowledge that he is used to using. But K.’s knowledge does not help him: The village (life) is too unpredictable.

For residents of a strange settlement, the greatest blessing is considered to be the opportunity to get into the Castle, at least as servants. However, not everyone has such happiness. A candidate for the position of servant must be handsome. Perhaps physical beauty in the novel means spiritual beauty. He who has an ugly soul will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

The dark side of life

In the novel “The Castle” there are no such sharp transitions from order to chaos. However, the disdain expressed by the author for such a fickle, gray and “winter” earthly life is impossible not to notice.

The novel traces an idea characteristic of many writers of the early twentieth century, the idea of ​​a certain meaninglessness of existence, its absurdity. This idea can be found, for example, in the works of the famous French playwright Eugene Ionesco, creator of the theater of the absurd. The beginning of Ionesco's plays does not make much of an impression: the actors exchange ordinary lines against the backdrop of quite ordinary scenery. However, gradually the actors’ speech loses its meaning and becomes incoherent. The scenery also begins to change. Gradually the world is destroyed, everything turns into primary chaos.

The action takes place in Austria-Hungary, before the November Revolution of 1918.

K., a young man of about thirty, arrives in the Village one late winter evening. He settles down for the night at an inn, in a common room among the peasants, noticing that the owner is extremely embarrassed by the arrival of an unfamiliar guest. K., who had fallen asleep, is awakened by the son of the Castle caretaker, Schwarzer, and politely explains that without the permission of the Count - the owner of the Castle and the Village, no one is allowed to live or spend the night here. K. is perplexed at first and does not take this statement seriously, but, seeing that they are going to kick him out in the middle of the night, he explains with irritation that he came here at the count’s call to work as a land surveyor. His assistants should arrive soon with instruments. Schwarzer calls the Central Office of the Castle and receives confirmation of K’s words. The young man notes to himself that they work in the Castle, apparently, conscientiously, even at night. He understands that the Castle has “approved” the title of land surveyor for him, knows everything about him and expects to keep him in constant fear. K. tells himself that he is clearly underestimated, he will enjoy freedom and fight.

In the morning K. goes to the Castle located on the mountain. The road turns out to be long, the main street does not lead, but only approaches the Castle, and then turns somewhere.

K. returns to the inn, where two “helpers”, young guys unfamiliar to him, are waiting for him. They call themselves his “old” assistants, although they admit that they do not know land surveying work. K. is clear that they are attached to him by the Lock for surveillance. K. wants to go with them on a sleigh to the Castle, but the assistants declare that without permission there is no access to the Castle for outsiders. Then K. tells the assistants to call the Castle and seek permission. Assistants call and instantly receive a negative answer. K. picks up the phone himself and hears strange sounds and buzzing for a long time before a voice answers him. K. mystifies him, speaking not on his own behalf, but on behalf of his assistants. As a result, a voice from the Castle calls K. his “old assistant” and gives a categorical answer - K. is forever denied access to the Castle.

At this moment, the messenger Barnabas, a young boy with a bright, open face, different from the faces of the local peasants with their “as if deliberately distorted physiognomies,” hands K. a letter from the Castle. The letter, signed by the head of the office, states that K. has been accepted into the service of the owner of the Castle, and his immediate superior is the headman of the Village. K. decides to work in the Village, away from officials, hoping to become “one of his own” among the peasants and thereby achieve at least something from the Castle. Between the lines, he reads a certain threat in the letter, a challenge to fight if K. agrees to the role of a simple worker in the Village. K. understands that everyone around him already knows about his arrival, spying on him and taking a closer look at him.

Through Barnabas and his older sister Olga, K. ends up in a hotel intended for gentlemen from the Castle who come to the Village on business. It is forbidden for outsiders to spend the night in the hotel; the place for K is only in the buffet. This time, an important official, Klamm, is spending the night here, whose name is known to all residents of the Village, although few can boast that they have seen him with their own eyes.

The barmaid Frida, serving beer to gentlemen and peasants, is an important person in the hotel. This is a plain-looking girl with sad eyes and a “pathetic little body.” K. is amazed by her gaze, full of special superiority, capable of solving many complex issues. Her gaze convinces K. that such questions concerning him personally exist.

Frida invites K. to look at Klamm, who is in the room adjacent to the buffet, through a secret peephole. K. sees a fat, clumsy gentleman with cheeks sagging under the weight of age. Frida is the mistress of this influential official, and therefore she herself has great influence in the Village. She made her way to the position of barmaid straight from the cowgirls, and K. expresses admiration for her willpower. He invites Frieda to leave Klamm and become his mistress. Frida agrees, and K. spends the night under the buffet counter in her arms. When in the morning Klamm’s “imperiously indifferent” call is heard from behind the wall, Frida twice defiantly answers him that she is busy with the land surveyor.

K. spends the next night with Frida in a room at the inn, almost in the same bed with the assistants, whom he cannot get rid of. Now K. wants to quickly marry Frieda, but first, through her, he intends to talk to Klamm. Frida, and then the owner of the Garden inn, convince him that this is impossible, that Klamm will not, cannot even talk to K., because Mr. Klamm is a man from the Castle, and K. is not from the Castle and not from the Village, he is “ nothing”, alien and superfluous. The hostess regrets that Frida “left the eagle” and “contacted with the blind mole.”

Gardena admits to K. that more than twenty years ago Klamm summoned her three times, but the fourth time did not follow. She keeps as the most expensive relics the cap and scarf given to her by Klamm, and a photograph of the courier through whom she was called for the first time. Gardena got married with Klamm’s knowledge and for many years at night she talked to her husband only about Klamm. K. has never seen such an intertwining of professional and personal life as here.

From the headman, K. learns that he received the order to prepare for the arrival of the land surveyor many years ago. The headman immediately sent a response to the Castle office that no one needed a land surveyor in the Village. Apparently, this answer went to the wrong department, an error occurred that could not be admitted, because the possibility of errors in the office is completely excluded. However, control authorities later admitted the error, and one official fell ill. Shortly before K.'s arrival, the story finally came to a happy end, that is, to the abandonment of the land surveyor. The unexpected appearance of K. now nullifies all the many years of work. The Castle's correspondence is kept in the headman's house and in the barns. The headman's wife and K.'s assistants shake out all the folders from the cabinets, but they still fail to find the necessary order, just as they fail to put the folders back in place.

Under pressure from Frida, K. accepts the headman's offer to take the place of the school watchman, although he learns from the teacher that the Village needs a watchman no more than a land surveyor. K. and his future wife have nowhere to live, Frida is trying to create a semblance of family comfort in one of the school classes.

K. comes to the hotel to find Klamm there. In the buffet he meets Frida's successor, the blooming maiden Pepi, and finds out from her where Klamm is. K. lies in wait for the official in the yard in the cold for a long time, but Klamm still escapes. His secretary demands that K. go through the “interrogation” procedure and answer a number of questions in order to draw up a protocol, filed in the office. Having learned that Klamm himself does not read the protocols due to lack of time, K. runs away.

On the way, he meets Barnabas with a letter from Klamm, in which he approves of the land surveying work carried out by K. with his knowledge, K. considers this a misunderstanding that Barnabas must explain to Klamm. But Barnabas is sure that Klamm will not even listen to him.

K. with Frida and assistants sleep in the school gymnasium. In the morning, teacher Giza finds them in bed and causes a scandal, throwing the remains of dinner off the table with a ruler in front of the happy children. Gisa has an admirer from the Castle - Schwarzer, but she only loves cats and tolerates the admirer.

K. notices that in four days of living together with his bride, a strange change occurs. Closeness to Klamm gave her “crazy charm,” and now she “fades” in his arms. Frida suffers when she sees that K. dreams only of meeting Klamm. She admits that K. will easily give it to Klamm if he demands it. In addition, she is jealous of Olga, Barnabas' sister.

Olga, an intelligent and selfless girl, tells K. the sad story of their family. Three years ago, at one of the village festivals, the official Sortini could not take his eyes off his younger sister, Amalia. In the morning, the courier delivered a letter to Amalia, written in “vile terms,” demanding that she come to Sortini’s hotel. The indignant girl tore the letter and threw the pieces in the face of the messenger, an official. She did not go to the official, and not a single official in the Village was pushed away. By committing such offenses, Amalia brought a curse on her family, from which all the inhabitants recoiled. Father, the best shoemaker in the Village, was left without orders and lost his income. He ran after the officials for a long time, waiting for them at the Castle gates, begging for forgiveness, but no one wanted to listen to him. It was unnecessary to punish the family; the atmosphere of alienation around her did its job. Father and mother, out of grief, turned into helpless invalids.

Olga understood that people were afraid of the Castle, they were waiting. If the family had hushed up the whole story, came out to their fellow villagers and announced that everything had been settled thanks to their connections, the Village would have accepted it. And all family members suffered and sat at home, as a result they found themselves excluded from all circles of society. Only Barnabas is tolerated as the most “innocent.” The main thing for the family is that he be officially registered in the service in the Castle, but even this cannot be known for sure. Perhaps a decision on it has not yet been made; there is a saying in the Village: “Administrative decisions are timid, like young girls.” Barnabas has access to offices, but they are part of other offices, then there are barriers, and behind them again offices. There are barriers all around, just like officials. Barnabas does not dare to open his mouth, standing in the offices. He no longer believes that he was truly accepted into the service of the Castle, and does not show zeal in transmitting letters from the Castle, doing so late. Olga is aware of the family’s dependence on the Castle, on the service of Barnabas, and in order to get at least some information, she sleeps with the servants of the officials in the stable.

Exhausted by uncertainty in K., tired of an unsettled life, Frida decides to return to the buffet. She takes with her Jeremiah, one of K.’s assistants, whom she has known since childhood, hoping to create a family home with him.

Klamm's secretary Erlanger wants to receive K. at night in his hotel room. People are already waiting in the corridor, including K.’s acquaintance, the groom Gerstecker. Everyone is happy about the night call, they realize that Erlanger is sacrificing his night’s sleep of his own free will, out of a sense of duty, because there is no time in his work schedule for trips to the Village. Many officials do this, holding a reception either in a buffet or in a room, if possible over food, or even in bed.

In the corridor, K. accidentally runs into Frida and tries to win her again, not wanting to give her to the “unappetizing” Jeremiah. But Frida reproaches him for betrayal with girls from a “disgraced family” and for indifference and runs away to the sick Jeremiah.

After meeting Frieda, K. is unable to find Erlanger's room and goes to the nearest one in the hope of taking a short nap. There is another official, Burgel, dozing there, who is glad to listen. Invited by him to sit down, K. collapses on his bed and falls asleep while the official talks about the “continuity of official procedure.” Soon Erlanger demands him. Standing at the door and about to leave, the secretary says that Klamm, who is accustomed to receiving beer from Frida’s hands, is being interfered with by the appearance of the new maid Pepi in his responsible work. This is a violation of habit, and the slightest interference in work should be eliminated. K. must ensure Frida's immediate return to the buffet. If he lives up to his confidence in this “little business,” it may prove beneficial to his career.

Realizing the complete futility of all his efforts, K. stands in the corridor and watches the revival that began at five o’clock in the morning. The noisy voices of officials outside the doors remind him of “awakening in the poultry house.” Servants carry a cart with documents and distribute them to officials from room to room according to the list. If the door does not open, the documents are piled on the floor. Some officials “fight off” the documents, others, on the contrary, “pretend”, snatch them, and get nervous.

The owner of the hotel drives K., who has no right to walk around here, “like cattle in the pasture.” He explains that the purpose of the night calls is to quickly listen to the visitor, whose appearance during the day is unbearable for the gentlemen officials. Having heard that K. attended a reception with two secretaries from the Castle, the owner allows him to spend the night in the beer hall.

The red-cheeked Pepi, who replaced Frida, laments that her happiness was so short. Klamm did not appear, but she would have been ready to carry him to the buffet in her arms.

K. thanks the hotel owner for the overnight stay. She starts a conversation with him about her dresses, remembering his random remark that hurt her. K. shows a certain interest in the appearance of the hostess, in her outfits, and discovers taste and knowledge of fashion. Arrogantly, but interestedly, the hostess admits that he can become an indispensable adviser for her. Let him wait for her call when new outfits arrive.

The groom Gerstecker offers K. a job in the stables. K. guesses that Gerstecker hopes to achieve something with Erlanger with his help. Gerstecker does not deny this and takes K. to his house for the night. Gerstecker's mother, reading a book by candlelight, gives K. a trembling hand and sits him down next to her.

Retold

A completely pointless book. I don’t understand many oohs and ahs from other readers. Yes, it seems that you are not reading a book, but seeing someone else’s dream, but the author’s ridicule of the entire bureaucratic system of power is understandable, and in some places stunted humor slips through. But, forgive me of course, the book is deadly boring, even taking into account the above-listed advantages. A flimsy plot, cumbersome dialogues - by the end of which you forget the beginning and the final chord of the action... Oops, but it’s not there! The manuscript is stupidly unfinished. Of course, fans of this writer, let’s scream in unison that it’s not needed here. Perhaps this is for the best, otherwise the book would have been stretched out for God knows how long, and the number of people who read it - NOT Kafka fans - would have been cut in half.

Rating: 1

In short, this is a different book.

Starting to read, you need to understand that everything written there happens as if in a foggy dream, and the further you go, the more the text sinks into a deep hole of semi-delirium. Maybe the author’s near death and illness, or the medications he was taking had an effect, who knows. The style is consistent and consistent until the last line. There is no need to look for reality, there is no need to understand it literally, there is no need to delve into dialogues, everything that is there is contained in the interlines (which is typical of Kafka’s style). The castle draws you in like a swamp drowning in a swamp, you seem to be trying to get out, but you realize that it is useless. And most importantly, after reading it, you are drawn to return to this enveloping and brain-clouding state.

The fact that there is no end... so dreams tend to be interrupted unexpectedly. When did you see your dream to its logical end!? So with this everything is even correct, there was no need to do it any other way.

You can try for a long time to understand what the author had in mind, how many autobiographical plots are embedded in the text, how many veiled thoughts about religion there are... all this has a place to be. The author probably felt that he was approaching the gates of heaven, hence his thoughts “out loud.”

So I think the most reliable comparison of the Castle is precisely with the unattainable paradise promised for earthly suffering. Officials with angels and demons, ghostly invisible intermediaries between this and this worlds. Villagers with God-fearing people who are blind to reality. They live their lives, playing their roles obediently, because that’s how it’s supposed to be, and it never even occurs to anyone to think about who actually needs it.

A castle is something that everyone strives for without knowing anything for sure about it, like, here it is, extend your hand, but is there something inside or is it just a wall erected by the people themselves, shrouded in myths and intimidating tales, entwined in mystery with forgotten history and where and with whom it all began, but inside there is actually nothing. Is there a Count (God) whom no one has ever seen, no one has talked to him about what he does and what he does. Does the Count and his heavenly office exist at all? Everyone considers the Count and the Castle to be great and holy a priori, just like that, because doing otherwise is a sin and thinking differently you will be punished, but no one knows how. The gray mass of frightened, narrow-minded village people does not understand K. (Kafka’s) attempts to find out the meaning of the established rules, talk with officials, get into the Castle alive, see the office and get to the bottom of the meaning. Maybe because he's not there...

Pysy. If you liked the book, be sure to watch “Giorgino” with Mylene Farmer, an excellent film, although it was not based on the book, it was very much inspired and there is a similarity in sensations.

Rating: 10

Not a single book in my entire life has made me so confused. The depression after “The Castle” lasted 3 months.

I saw in this work the bureaucratization not so much of society as of the world order in general. You will get everything you wanted, but when you no longer need it. And the Forces that control this world cannot be reached. Because they are too far from a person, and a person, a bug, is indifferent to them. Maybe I was in that state myself then, I don’t remember. But that's exactly what I felt. Complete hopelessness, hopeless darkness, resistance is useless.

I love Kafka madly, but I don’t want to re-read it. Once was enough.

I discovered a work similar in spirit and structure - “Invitation to Execution” by Nabokov. Also deep experiences wrapped in surrealism. The essence: you have just achieved something, and it is taken away from you, everything develops from bad to worse, and nothing good shines for you.

Rating: 10

A castle is an image of an impregnable stronghold, elevated above the rest of the world. For those living in the lands surrounding the castle, this fog-shrouded fortress is the center of the universe, a place where people live who are powerful by definition, regardless of their position in it. Of course, the difference between a high official and a castellan's assistant is obvious, and yet each of them is powerful only because he has the right to be in territory forbidden to mere mortals. To a stranger from foreign lands, this state of affairs seems incomprehensible and absurd, but for the villagers, a stranger is nothing, and for the castle office - in general, a mistake. Kafka exaggerates the image of the castle, allowing the reader to plunge into an alien world, unlike the real one and nevertheless being its reflection. Village - office - castle. It seems like quite a bit, but at the same time a metaphorical image of the relationship between the people and the authorities is born. To bring reality to the point of absurdity in order to show the inside out - this is Kafka's method, which works more than perfectly.

First of all, the reader will be struck by the original style. Kafka is a writer who reveals a topic through dialogues, lengthy discussions and debates. This may make the book seem boring to people who are used to reading about the actions of the heroes, because there are almost none here, and if there are, then this is only an excuse to start a good dialogue for about ten to twenty pages. Moreover, Kafka often repeats and writes about the same thing in several formulations, which sometimes pleases, but sometimes irritates, but invariably makes you remember what exactly was discussed and for a long time not to forget about the problems that trouble the heroes. All together this turns into a kind of poetry, where one thought follows another, alternating and turning into something new.

Kafka's characters were definitely successful. They have something to say, and this “saying” takes up the lion’s share of the novel. And in every dialogue, K., the main character, struggles with the established system. The book takes place in verbal duels, revealing new details and explaining oddities. Kafka is not as absurd as it seems at first glance, maybe he builds a world that is unusual for us, but nevertheless all relationships, be it Frida’s flighty love, or Barnabas’ dog-like devotion, or unacceptable attitude on the part of the villagers, or simplicity and stupidity assistants, all this will receive logical explanations and will not remain just an assumption. Klamm deserves special mention, the man who was discussed throughout the entire story, who was the subject of every dispute, and whom no one saw, except perhaps one silhouette in the keyhole, and even then it is not a fact that it was him .

The struggle leads the hero into a vicious circle, one success is replaced by disappointment, and the next attempt may not be an attempt at all. It is useless to talk about the plot, you can only enjoy it and follow these endless attempts and dialogues, the eternal struggle for a place in the sun and the choice of method, everyone has to build it themselves, weave a complex intrigue, gathering attention around themselves, go for the break, without retreating at all. step or just sit and wait for someone to pay attention to you. Until the end. Unfortunately, the ending is tragic, but this is not about the heroes. Kafka died of tuberculosis in 1924, without having completed any of his three novels, and even though one can guess the outcome of the struggle of the main character of “The Castle”, even if the climax has passed, and the writer told further events to Max Brod, still no one can say it better the poet himself!

Bottom line: the work is not for everyone, if you are not put off by dialogues consisting of monologues lasting several pages and some protractedness, then reading will turn into a pleasure that is hard to refuse.

Rating: 9

“The Castle” is a novel by Franz Kafka, which tells the story of a hero named K., who wants, for unmentioned reasons, to penetrate a castle on a mountain near a village with settlers who are very unusual in terms of behavior and views.

It should be noted right away that it is unknown how the novel will end, since Kafka cut it off mid-sentence, but, based on the writer’s other works, it can be assumed that K. would never have reached the castle. It would be entirely in the spirit of the author to bring disappointment or death to the protagonist, although, in fairness, it should be noted that the hero here is a very bright personality, with a strong character and an ironically arrogant look at those around him, which sets him apart from other characters in other works of the great Prague resident. And although this is not the strongest argument, such exclusivity could perhaps serve as a reason for a non-standard ending. And who knows whether this discrepancy was the reason for the raggedness of the novel - what if, with its originality, it simply did not fit into the formula typical for the rest of the work.

To give an idea of ​​what happens in the novel, a few words about the plot. The protagonist wanders around the village, trying to find a reason to look into the settlement towering on the mountain, called by others the “castle”. Some semi-legendary people live in this place that is attractive to K. On the one hand, it is just a government, on the other, it is something more, overgrown with rumors fueled by human awe. This theme is outlined well, although it is not central, as for example in “Autumn of the Patriarch” by G.G. Marquez. People of a primitive type, of course, see in “The Castle” only the “power - society” connection, but in Kafka it is almost always deeper, and here we are not talking about the metaphorization of objective phenomena, but about the expression of the author’s vision of reality. In other words, from the point of view of the average person, the characters in the work do not have names. The village government here is not a religion, not a state, not managers or officials. And at the same time, they are a conglomerate of all this - plus something more, intangible for those who are blind to the author’s worldview.

What does the author illustrate and what happens in the novel? K. enters houses, communicates with people, makes connections and finds out details about those living on the top of the mountain. Here the author reflects various spheres of society, ridiculing bureaucracy, groveling before the authorities, and much more. But much more interesting for the reader are the settlers themselves, whose reactions, actions and words are so different from the usual course of events. In “The Castle” everything is so unusually exaggerated and hyperbolic that it turns out not just a semblance of a dream or delirium, but a whole independent world with different laws, but the laws are not spontaneous, but flow according to their own cause-and-effect mechanisms. And here lies the unique charm of this novel. Being involved in the life of this extraordinary society, the reader spends time with interest, which distinguishes this work from the same monotonous “Process”.

The plot brings surprising twists and turns. They are unpredictable, and their absurdity is explained through time from a logical point of view. It turns out everything is very thought out, worked out and interconnected. The novel turns itself inside out every now and then, rearranging black and white, completely destroying any attempts to predict the development of events and the motives of the characters. This reflects Kafka’s amazing way of seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary, and not just one thing, but unexpected multi-layeredness. Metaphorically, it can be imagined like this: under a pile of garbage, a chest with a treasure is suddenly discovered, but all the gold turns out to be fake, however, as it soon turns out, the chest itself is of particular value, but it will not be possible to sell it, because... etc. etc., the novel will again and again wrap seemingly exhausted situations with new facets, tending with their diversity to some kind of almost ideally spherical form.

It is impossible not to mention the dialogues. This is a separate advantage of the “Castle”. Despite their verbosity, the characters' lines sound convincing and realistic to the point of charm.

In this regard, one can only regret that this novel remained unfinished, because the manner and style of expression found in it are truly a winning way for Kafka to create major works.

Rating: 9

The absurdity in “The Castle” rests, for the most part, on the attitude of people and on their understanding, in fact, of the Castle and the officials who live in it. The first pages are presented to us as something completely unnatural, but as you read, you become imbued with the worldview of the villagers, and everything becomes almost logical. But not to such an extent as to say: yes, this could very well happen. But in the world - it is unlikely. And in the human soul?

Kafka is, of course, one of the elephants on which the multi-layered planet of modernism rests. But, as for me, he is more accessible than, for example, Joyce, more interesting, specific and, as far as this fashionable word fits this review, atmospheric. His work is like something exotic - extremely rare, but, although a little alien, nevertheless, intriguing and, somewhere in the depths, even close. And in modernism this is the only way - the alien may well turn out to be close. No one can expect a clear understanding.

K.’s actions, his adventures, and events can be perceived from different points of view. He has an interesting character, although often we expect completely different behavior from him. And, what is also important, we can observe a subtle psychological game - within the world created by Kafka, our own psychology also operates, on the basis of which the familiar, ours, is perceived. But psychology is a superficial element!

Actually, the novel (unfortunately, not finished) made a colossal impression on me. A lot of smart words can be said about him, but is it worth it? I don’t know - as for me, Kafka is only worth reading, and if you analyze it, then not directly, with your mind, but somehow subconsciously, first of all, simply by enjoying reading.

Rating: 9

An amazing novel - a kaleidoscope of horror, absurdity, comedy (black comedy), satire. The novel is both difficult and easy, at the same time, in its reading. The novel is difficult with its curls of absurdity, interweaving of intrigue and nuances, small mysteries and dead-end ways out of them. But at the same time it is easy, because all the situations are familiar to the average citizen of any country who has encountered obvious and direct contact with the state bureaucracy.

The novel is civil, and reflects all the irony of the everyday affairs of a citizen, toiling in the vicissitudes and labyrinths of corridors and offices. Smile and sadness, sorrow and annoyance - makes the reader experience all the “opportunities” of the hero’s misadventures. So, in the end, the novel is amazing, and you need to read it in order to understand and see the whole world with clear eyes, and not through the prism of rose-colored glasses.

Rating: 10

Have you been abandoned in an unfamiliar corner of the earth without delivering what was promised? Did the bureaucratic system eat you, did it bite through your bones, did the fibers of your meat remain on its teeth - when you had nothing left but the hope of protection? Kafka described too accurately what will happen to a little man when the system designed to protect him suddenly does not even look at him. The moment when she doesn't look back at him is when she's indifferent. Endless offices, stacks of papers, apathy - not carelessness - towards human life; the influence of this cold, arrogant apparatus on the life of society, views, ambitions - all this can be faced by any person now, not only by K., who was not the first to try to follow this path, and he will not remain the last to fall.

Yes, K. is the only creature whom the reader has to believe, because only someone who has arrived from the outside can see where an imperfect mechanism, due to its flaws and holes, entails human delusion, and then faith in the inviolability of power, submission to its silence.

Kafka knew where to cut. He knew that over the years his statements, his reflection of the relationship between man and power would arise in life, that he pointed precisely to this - perhaps an intermediate, but - result. He probably saw it even then - working in insurance companies, as a minor clerk with a doctorate in law. He felt the approach of the outcome, when power, its system would become higher than the human dignity that it was designed to protect.

"The Castle" is a novel that is difficult to relate to. It is difficult to read, and at moments it seems that you never bother him, that there is no rational grain in the actions, but you follow the text, it’s difficult to wander further and further into the water, moving away from the shore - it’s harder to step, you can’t see the stronghold ahead, but you can already feel a cold that cannot be gotten rid of so easily, it will remain with you even if you give up everything halfway. Put the book down - and you still feel it, the stare and absurdity do not go away, these images dance around you, they still hate you for being different, everyone is surprised at your stupidity, absurdity.

And, I must say, you will have to look for answers without resorting to the author’s explanations. If you want to receive them immediately after reading the last pages, it is better to leave them. To the general surreality, we must certainly add the fact that the novel is not finished, most likely by a whole third. "The Castle" was supposed to be a large-scale canvas. Just look at how many storylines were left behind the scenes, how many unrealized possibilities were left by the phrase “The manuscript ends here.” You shouldn’t blame Kafka for this, he’s not mocking you, he’s not trying to confuse you, he didn’t ask for the goodness of his life to put the manuscript on fire. Don’t be deceived, Franz only knew that he simply wouldn’t have time to finish his depressing picture of man against the backdrop of the all-suppressive mechanism of power.

Rating: 10

I continue my measured acquaintance with Kafka’s works. I previously read “The Trial” - and it seemed completely burdensome, completely uninteresting. Things were better for me with the Castle.

Despite the heaviness of the narrative, through multi-page monologues and long chapters in a couple of paragraphs of which you simply had to wade through, it pulled you in and did not want to let go. There is something attractive in all this. But what? Trying to judge sensibly, I understand that there are no original ideas, no intriguing plot, no bright characters in the usual sense in this novel. One is attracted by the absurdity of what is happening, the grotesqueness, and sometimes the reader’s lack of understanding of what is happening at all. And the atmosphere of some kind of insecurity, depression, crampedness. It's like the walls are pressing on you.

I don’t want to talk about how skillfully the author showed the bureaucratic system in its extreme manifestations. And I’m probably not mature enough to comprehend something more and can only guess. Therefore, for me, Kafka’s work is attractive primarily on a subconscious level.

Rating: 7

I finished reading “The Castle” by Kafka until the words “The manuscript ends here.” An unexpected setup. But now I can rightfully use the phrase “Kafkaesque motifs” to denote the highest degree of bureaucratization of society. The complaints about the text, besides the fact that the novel is not finished and even all the main plots are not indicated, are the following:

It is not clear why K. was so eager to get into the castle. Frida told him “Let’s leave here and live a normal life somewhere else” - but no, stubborn K. continues to knock on closed doors and look for ways to communicate with officials. Rave. Thus, the main motive of GG is not clear.

It’s difficult to read not even because of the turbidity, but because of the rare breakdown of the monolith into paragraphs. But in general, of course, if you live in a low blue house, squeezed between others of the same kind (only in different colors) on Golden Street in Prague, something different will happen to you - in general, the crampedness of life inevitably flows into the crampedness of the text.

In general, the theme of the little man in the fight against bureaucrats immediately reminded me of the school curriculum for literature and our classics. I had no desire to re-read it.

Rating: 6

Another, opposite, side of the same nightmare that was in “Alice in Wonderland.” A normal person who finds himself in a world in which the laws of physics, logic and society do not apply. Only if there the space around the heroine changed unpredictably, here it does not change predictably. A straight path that turns into a vicious circle; you scream, but not a sound is heard; you run, but you can’t move; In response to any logical thought, they sympathetically pat you on the head and say that you are a little fool and don’t understand anything.

And I cannot, do not want and do not have the right to talk about the deep philosophical implications. Because the very form - a nightmare - frightened me so much that I least of all thought about interpretation. My only wish was to wake up quickly.

Rating: 3

A complex work, both to read and to understand. By and large, it is something like a hologram; whether there is any meaning in the novel, whether there is none - it all depends from what angle you look at it. In my opinion, the novel shows, albeit slightly painful, ugly, but therefore even more truthful, the “man-authority” relationship. Moreover, this power is so stupid (both in the literal sense and in its structure) that you are amazed. And at the same time she is omnipotent. The castle is that power - which you can’t get into, you can’t become a part of it, and therefore everyone who belongs to it, even formally, acquires seemingly inhuman properties and some kind of Volondovo power over minds. People from the village literally worship people from the Castle and any of their even unspoken desires is a pretext for action for them. And this connection takes on the most perverted forms and consequences (as Frida from an old, ugly servant turns into a beauty in the eyes of the hero, since Klamm slept with her). And those who dared to resist (like Barnabas’s Amalia) there is not even pity for them. And the authorities are so separated from ordinary people that even the sight of ordinary people is unbearable even for some castle secretary. In the Castle itself there is a hellish bureaucratic mess going on, which would make a normal person go crazy. And in this paperwork, destinies are decided (like a land surveyor’s case - a small piece of paper, perhaps the one that the bellhops in the hotel tore up in order to finish their work early) and the master’s servants become the main ones, in fact, deciding all matters as they please. Complete bureaucratic chaos. And the struggle of the main character... Why is he fighting? Wants to change something? No, his whole struggle is being waged in order to get into the castle himself, thereby gaining power over ordinary people. And all this taken together is filled with delirium, painful and impossible, but the worst thing is that it all actually exists - here, now - exists and will exist, probably forever. And those who don’t believe – damn it! – finally turn on the TV and watch carefully!

Reading the novel is not so much difficult as it is tedious. But here I realize that this is perhaps due to the fact that I read the novel after watching the film of the same name, and knew and remembered all the plot moves. And there is some kind of intrigue (who is this K? He’s not a land surveyor, that’s for sure), but due to the huge paragraphs and frequent repetitions of what seems to be the same thought, it’s impossible to stop yourself from yawning. In general, I don’t know if it’s because of this, but the whole novel resembles some kind of half-dream. Perhaps this is the author’s idea, and everything is deliberately shown in such a state of half-asleep, as if the dozing brain analyzes everything it sees and produces the truth in the form of a grotesque dream. The last few chapters become completely unbearable to read, everything is too drawn out (the conversation with Burgel and the conversation with Pepi). And the romance ends...

Would I read a sequel if it existed and was a separate book? At the end, there is a hint that K’s case was approaching a successful conclusion, since he still had a conversation, albeit a meaningless one, with two secretaries and, therefore, acquired some power over the villagers (this is evident because Pepi and the innkeeper and Gerstecker immediately began to need him ). But... Honestly, I wouldn’t. What I have is enough for me. I give a rating of “7” in this case only for this demonstration of the meaninglessness of the existing and existing government.

My daughter introduced me to an interesting analysis of Kafka’s work by a Jewish literary scholar. I myself have never considered what Kafka wrote in this aspect. “The Trial” is an allusion to the Last Judgment, “America” is our life in the real world, “Castle” is the wanderings of our souls in the world after death, “In a penal colony” is one of the circles of Hell, a traveler jumps into a boat to sail away from him along some Dantean river. It is generally very typical for Jewish criticism to correlate well-known stories with parables and Old Testament traditions. (In an Israeli literary magazine, I read that Robinson’s story is a paraphrase of the legend about Jonah in the belly of a whale. 1 - Robinson broke a taboo, disobeyed his father, for which he was punished by isolation on the island, 2 - having been in the belly of a whale, Jonah returned to people, Robinson left the island and ended up in his homeland. My mother noted that he sailed with the goal of engaging in the slave trade, and was punished precisely for this.) Be that as it may, for any plot, Jewish criticism offers a midrash - an interpretation that allows one to deduce from the text halacha, the law in accordance with the spirit of the Old Testament. Thomas Mann wrote about the metaphysical search for God, allegorically represented in Kafka’s work, but it seems to me that linking Franz’s work with the Jewish religious tradition is quite problematic. It is known that the writer’s service and education were secular, he wrote in German, spoke Czech, and practically did not know the language of his people. He became interested in traditional Jewish culture shortly before his death. Man is a set of complexes, Kafka is interesting because he is aware of these complexes and voices them. Therefore, I am impressed by the analysis of his works, which is close to psychoanalysis, and not to the search for echoes of Talmudic images and plots in the literature of the 20th century.

Rating: no

I read it three times.

The first time was in high school, in the old Soviet times. It was fashionable then to read such books, it was prestigious. At that time I didn’t understand anything, I was left with a slight regret about “...either everyone is lying about the book, or I’m stupid, however...”. But - in hindsight, after mature reflection - I can say for sure: reading such books (and Kafka in general) when the soul doesn’t particularly ask for anything and doesn’t really expect anything is pointless and stupid, it’s a pure waste of time.

The second time - at the end of the last century, at the suggestion of one of the political loudmouths of that time: “... everything that happens to us, in our country, to all of us, is pure Kafkaesque...”. Then I realized that the loudmouths were right. I understood and felt it. But... somehow detached, without much mental anguish, at the level of some fact or statement. I well remember my surprise at the certain “artificiality” of the situation: “...why are they running around with this Kafka..., well - absurdism, well - the philosophy of fear, well - yes, it’s original, probably, maybe even beautiful in terms of intellectual something, but... yelling like that - why?

The third time - right after “Snail on the Slope”. Because even while reading this “Snail...” I realized that there was a certain resonance, that the motives were painfully consonant, that the motivations were almost identical. And only THEN - when the soul was sick not with the acute pain of rebellion or indifference, but with a heavy itch of empathy, understanding and belonging - only then did it become clear WHAT this book was ABOUT. It is for altered states of consciousness, which are already a fact. It cannot be a means for these changes. And understanding is possible only after the fact, like a reflection in a mirror, when the process of “looking in the mirror” itself is so interesting that it gives the most intellectual pleasure. Outside this framework, the book is about nothing

Rating: 8

Chapter 2. Kitezh-city of Franz Kafka. Analysis of the novel “The Castle”

Literary and artistic criticism traditionally connects the problems of Kafka’s novel “The Castle” with the depiction of bureaucracy, social hierarchy, and corporate psychology. For the Russian reader, the contrast between truth-seeking and arbitrariness, in which one recognizes the habitat familiar from pioneer childhood. Angelika Sineok writes in the article “Kafka in our lives” that“By some mysterious coincidence, the novel was conceived by the writer as “Russian”! The original plan was to write a “story from Russian life” “Seduction in the Village,” but then Kafka became interested in the story of his land surveyor hero and wrote a novel. So the snowy landscapes of the “Castle” are directly related to Russia.”

And the “Castle” itself has a direct connection to Russia! Let us remember how the novel begins: “It was already late in the evening when K. got to the place. The village was buried in deep snow. The mountains on which the Castle stood seemed to have never happened, fog and darkness hid it, and nowhere was there a speck of light, not the slightest hint of the presence of a large Castle. K. stood for a long time on the wooden bridge through which the road from the highway to the village went, and, raising his head, peered into the deceptive emptiness,” this is the first paragraph of the first chapter, and it sets the entire subsequent plot: land surveyor K. cannot find the Castle, to penetrate into it, various obstacles prevent it. "TO. walked without taking his eyes off the Castle, nothing else interested him. But as he approached, the Castle disappointed him more and more: it was just some kind of wretched little town, cobbled together from village houses and differing only in that everything, apparently, was made of stone, although the paint had long since peeled off and the stone seemed to be crumbling. For a moment K. remembered his hometown, which was hardly inferior in any way to this so-called Castle.” And the first chapter ends like this: “That Castle up there (surprisingly darkened), which K. hoped to reach today, was moving away again. And as if giving him some kind of sign for their temporary parting, a bell rang there - a joyful, hasty bell ringing, from which, even if only for a moment, the heart sank as if it were afraid - for there was pain in this ringing - of the fulfillment of that , it’s unclear what it was yearning for.” Land surveyor K. cannot find what is not there: The castle dissolves in space, like the archetypal Russian darkness - the city of Kitezh.

This is how Melnikov-Pechersky, for example, describes the legend of Kitezh: “The legends about Batu’s defeat are fresh there. They will point out both the “Batiyev’s path” and the place of the invisible city of Kitezh on Lake Svetly Yar. That city is still intact - with white stone walls, golden-domed churches, with honest monasteries, with princely patterned towers, with boyars' stone chambers, with houses cut from kond, rotting forest. The hail is intact, but invisible. Sinful people will not see the glorious Kitezh. He miraculously disappeared, by God's command, when the godless Tsar Batu, having ruined Suzdal Rus', went to fight Kitezh Rus'. The Tatar king approached the city of Great Kitezh and wanted to burn down the houses with fire, beat the husbands or drive them away, and take the wives and girls as concubines. The Lord did not allow the Basurman desecration of the Christian shrine. For ten days, ten nights, Batu’s hordes searched for the city of Kitezh and could not find it, blinded. And until now that city stands invisible - it will be revealed before the terrible judgment seat of Christ. And on Lake Svetly Yar on a quiet summer evening one can see walls, churches, monasteries, princely mansions, boyar mansions, and courtyards of townspeople reflected in the water. And at night you can hear the dull, mournful ringing of Kitezh bells.” Great Kitezh hid from the Mongol conquerors and did not reveal itself to an unworthy, sinful person. Does this mean that land surveyor K. was also “unworthy”? So that's it. But we will return to this later.

Such Kitezh is well known in Russian literature - this is, of course, the imperial capital of St. Petersburg. In the story “The Bronze Horseman” Pushkin described the greatness of St. Petersburg, but this greatness is ephemeral: the city disappeared under water, melted like a piece of refined sugar. Daniel Rancourt-Laferrière draws attention to one nuance, the line “Under the sea a city was founded...” from Pushkin’s St. Petersburg story. Rancourt-Laferrière writes in the article “The Sledgehammer of Peter the Great: the psychoanalytic aspect of The Bronze Horseman” the following: “As a rule, Pushkin’s phrase “under the sea” is translated into English as “by the sea” (lit.: by the sea). However, the Russian preposition “under” usually corresponds to the English “under”. Thus, “under the sea” means that the city is below sea level or even under water. Moreover, the intentions of Pushkin’s Peter included the construction of the city precisely at such a low level: “That whose will is fatal/ A city was founded under the sea...” The antonymic rhyme of the last line with the verb “exalted” emphasizes the “vertical contrast” of Peter with everything that is lower than him.” Here the connection between the ephemeral nature of the city (its “underwaterness”) and the will of the rulers inhabiting it is already clearly visible.

St. Petersburg begins from Nevsky Prospekt. “But the strangest of all are the incidents that happen on Nevsky Prospekt. Oh, don't believe this Nevsky Prospekt! I always wrap myself tightly in my cloak when I walk along it, and try not to look at all the objects I meet. Everything is a deception, everything is a dream, everything is not what it seems!.. He lies at all times, this Nevsky Prospekt, but most of all when the night falls in a concentrated mass on him and separates the white and fawn walls of the houses, when the whole city turns into thunder and shine, myriads of carriages falling from bridges, postilions screaming and jumping on horses, and when the demon himself lights the lamps just to show everything not in its real form,” this is Gogol, the finale of the story “Nevsky Prospekt.” Everything is deception, everything is confusion, everything dissolves into emptiness!

Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky continued the tradition, may he rest in heaven. He speaks through the mouth of a Teenager: “A hundred times, in the midst of this fog, I wondered a strange but haunting dream: “What if this fog scatters and goes up, won’t this whole rotten, slimy city go with it, rise with the fog?” and will disappear like smoke, and the former Finnish swamp will remain, and in the middle of it, perhaps for beauty’s sake, a bronze rider on a hot-breathing, driven horse?“ In a word, I cannot express my impressions, because all this is fantasy, finally, poetry, but therefore, nonsense; nevertheless, I have often been asked and continue to be asked one completely meaningless question: “Here they are all rushing and rushing about, but who knows, maybe all this is someone’s dream, and not a single person here is real, true, not a single real action? Someone will suddenly wake up, someone who is dreaming about all this, and everything will suddenly disappear.” Fyodor Mikhailovich called Petersburg “the most deliberate city on Earth.”

Andrei Bely, a contemporary of Kafka (Franz Kafka was born in 1883, Boris Bugaev (Andrei Bely) - in 1885), in the novel “Petersburg” continued the theme: “And according to an absurd legend, it turns out that the capital is not Petersburg. If St. Petersburg is not the capital, then there is no St. Petersburg. It only seems that he exists." St. Petersburg is just a dot, a circle on a geographical map. But a surveyor’s mug is not needed.

Why does St. Petersburg become the prototype of the Castle? St. Petersburg is a city of the highest bureaucracy, the center of the supreme power of the Russian Empire. The same focus of the supreme impregnable power is the Castle for the villagers and land surveyor K. Only the villagers have resigned themselves since ancient times, and K. is looking for a way, looking for a way to the Castle and its owners.

Let's try to look at this situation through the eyes of a psychoanalyst. The castle and its ruling inhabitants symbolize the parental authority: the castle, the house - the mother's womb, and the owner of the Castle, Count Westest - the paternal imperious phallicity. Freud also wrote that a house, a room, symbolizes the mother, the mother’s womb. By the way, for a Russian person in the word “z” A mok" also sounds like "deputy" O k", a z A mok - what the key is inserted into - is also a symbol of the vagina. But there is neither one nor the other, as we found out above; their existence is illusory. There is a void that Count Land Surveyor K. is trying to fill. Even Klamm, the gentleman from the Castle, has been seen by few people; he is elusive and changeable, it is impossible to see him or talk to him.

Olga tells the land surveyor: “But we sometimes talk about Klamm; I haven’t seen Klamm yet (you know, Frieda doesn’t like me too much and would never allow me to look at him), but, naturally, his appearance is known in the village, some people have seen him, everyone has heard about him, and from these impressions eyewitnesses, from rumors and also from many deliberately distorted testimonies, a portrait of Klamm was compiled, which is probably correct in its main features. But only in the main ones. Otherwise, he is changeable and, perhaps, not even as changeable as Klamm’s actual appearance. He, apparently, when he comes to the village, looks completely different than when he leaves it, differently before he drinks beer, and differently after that, differently when awake, differently in his sleep, differently when alone, and differently when they talk and, as is already clear after all this, almost fundamentally differently - upstairs, in the Castle.”

And the innkeeper reprimands the land surveyor: “Tell me, how did you even stand the sight of Klamm? You don’t have to answer, I know you withstood it very well. You are not even able to truly see Klamm - this is not my exaggeration, because I myself am not capable of this.”

Not Mr. Klamm, but some kind of werewolf!

But Mr. Klamm is only the manager of the Castle, and what can we say then about the Count? The Count is as unattainable as the Castle itself. Because both the Earl-father and the Castle-mother were initially absent from land surveyor K. He is a child so deprived of the love of his parents that they seem to not exist for him at all. Some paternal authorities or their substitutes are still glimmering in the distance: now Mr. Manager Klamm, now Mr. Castellan, now the headman, but the land surveyor cannot reach his mother. That is why his relationships with women are unsuccessful and unsatisfactory. How can a person build a relationship with a woman who, since childhood, has experienced the lack of love from his first woman - his mother (up to the fantasy of her complete absence)?

Infants deprived of parental affection and brought up in boarding nurseries were studied by Rene Spitz, a representative of the genetic trend in psychoanalysis. In one of his works, he analyzed in detail the origin of the gestures of shaking the head in the sense of the word “no” and nodding in the sense of “yes”. Spitz at the University of Colorado Medical Center observed children as young as one year old who suffered from what is known as hospitalism syndrome, which occurs after children are deprived of emotional contact for a long time. After breastfeeding for an average of three months, babies were separated from their mothers for a period of six months to a year (this happened during World War II). Their ages ranged from nine months to one and a half years. When someone unfamiliar approached them (except for the nannies who approached them with food during feeding), these children began to turn their heads the way adults shake their heads when saying “no.” This movement continued as long as the stranger was in front of them. Spitz labeled this head shaking as “cephalogyric movements.” When they were not disturbed and left alone, the children behaved calmly. It was quite obvious that the appearance of a stranger caused displeasure in them: refusal to communicate was accompanied by screaming and whimpering, especially if the observer did not leave.

It would seem that there is nothing strange about this: abandoned children experience anxiety and refuse to communicate with dangerous strangers, while shaking their heads negatively, as if saying: “No, we are afraid and don’t want to.” However, the refusal to contact that healthy, normal children demonstrate when meeting strangers in the second half of the first and at the beginning of the second year of life manifests itself differently. Healthy children do not rotate their heads; they close their eyes, hide their face, or turn away to the side. As a rule, an ordinary child learns understand shaking the head of an adult as a sign of disagreement or prohibition in the first three months of the second year of life, that is, between the ages of one and fifteen months, but as a deliberate signal this gesture is used by children later. At the beginning of the second year of life, the child distinguishes only two emotions: the child feels that he is either loved or hated. When something is forbidden to him, he feels that he is hated. Spitz describes the observation of an eleven and a half month old child, filmed. An adult plays with a child and offers him a toy. After the child has played with it, the adult takes the toy. The child reaches out to her again, but the adult shakes his head and says: “No, no.” Despite the smile and friendly expression on the adult’s face, the child quickly pulls his hand back and sits with downcast eyes and an expression of embarrassment and shame, as if he had done something terrible. This one-year-old child clearly understands the prohibition. But at the same time, he misinterprets the adult’s prohibition in a global way: “If you are not for me, then you are against me. If you don't love me, then you hate me." Therefore, a one-year-old child himself cannot yet give a prohibitory signal; he will be able to adopt this gesture from an adult only after three or four months.

Based on the above, it is necessary to comprehend and explain the fact why the adult gesture “no” appears in abandoned children deprived of emotional contacts earlier than in prosperous and normally developing children. Spitz concludes that since the child could not learn the meaning of this gesture from contact with the environment through imitation, this behavior is associated with behavior that existed at earlier stages of development. Careful observation of head rotations shows that these movements are not avoidance, turning away from what causes displeasure. Children do not look away from an unfamiliar adult, but, on the contrary, look at him intently. Spitz concludes that head shaking has a prototype in the “rooting” behavior of the newborn, which, when applied to the breast, seeks the nipple, making circular movements with its head. Thus, children with hospitalism syndrome, seeing a stranger with whom they do not want to communicate, experience anxiety and begin to look for their mother’s breast, like newborn babies. We understand their behavior based on our adult ideas and stereotypes, because their search for a nipple outwardly resembles a negative shaking of the head.

During normal development, the formation of the “no” gesture goes through three stages: first, rotation of the head in search of the mother’s nipple (rooting movement) at the age of three months, which has the meaning of “yes” (the desire to accept, receive) rather than “no” (by the way, in Bulgaria shaking your head means “yes”); secondly, avoidance behavior when satiated after six months, when the child, having had enough, shakes his head to get rid of the nipple (in the first six months of life, a satiated baby, sluggishly relaxing his lips, releases the nipple from his mouth and falls asleep on the chest); finally, thirdly, shaking the head, meaning “no” - a semantic gesture at the level of object relations, appearing after fifteen months of life. Each of the first two stages contributes to the emergence of the third. While rooting provides the motor matrix and trains neck muscles and motor coordination, satiation avoidance behavior gives meaning to head shaking.

At birth, rooting (rotating the head in search of the nipple) performs the function of approaching an object that satisfies the need. Rooting has no negative equivalent; in the activity of a newborn, the “striving from” does not correspond to the “striving to.” A newborn does not have negativism - a behavioral stereotype that clearly has a negative meaning. What can be classified as negative takes the form of chaotic, disorganized, mixed expressions of displeasure. That is, there is pronounced behavior that has a positive meaning, aimed at bringing people closer together, but there is no equally pronounced behavior that carries a negative charge. This lack of organized expression of negativism in newborns is an observable confirmation of Freud’s postulate: “In analysis we never discover a ‘no’ in the unconscious.” The baby's behavior may begin to express refusal only in the third month of life. Until this time, refusal takes only a physiological form: the child stops sucking or regurgitates what he has swallowed. Freud expressed the opinion (in 1925 in the article “Denial”) that there are two poles of the infant’s relationship to the world: “I would eat it” or “I would spit it out.” In other words, the alternative can be formulated as follows: “It must either be inside me or outside.” However, both spitting and swallowing must be preceded by scanning, searching behavior, which has the quality of “striving for” - rooting rotation of the head.

In an abandoned child, shaking his head has a completely different psychological meaning than an adult's "no" gesture. This is not a conscious refusal of contact, but a defensive regression provoked by anxiety, a return to earlier ways of behavior.

A similar ambiguous shaking of his head is performed by surveyor K.: he turns in all directions to get closer to the Castle, to penetrate it. (Or take it into yourself?) He rushes here and there: now to Frieda, now to Klamm, now to the head of the community; now to one tavern, then to another; agrees to become a school watchman - his movements are chaotic and disorderly. It seems so simple - go straight to the Castle and make yourself known. But no! This is impossible. The surveyor, like an abandoned child, shakes his head as if to say “no.” But in fact, he really is looking for a way to the Castle, only he does it as a baby abandoned by his parents. His disordered behavior is irrational, it is determined by deep regression.

Peter Chaadaev wrote in Philosophical Letters about Russian mentality that “we all lack some kind of stability, some kind of consistency in the mind, some kind of logic... It is human nature to get lost when he does not find a way to connect with what what happened before him and what will happen after him; he then loses all firmness, all confidence; not guided by a sense of continuous duration, he feels lost in the world. Such confused creatures are found in all countries; we have this common property... here is the carelessness of life without experience and foresight, which has nothing to do with anything other than the ghostly existence of an individual, cut off from his environment.”

The chaotic, unstructured nature of Russian life described by Chaadaev is associated with narcissistic problems. I once spoke about this in a report at the Summer School of the National Federation of Psychoanalysis, “Extrapolation of the principles of “modern psychoanalysis” to the field of society and culture.” Enough has been written about how modern consumer society gives rise to narcissistic problems. For example, Erich Fromm wrote in his monograph “The Anatomy of Human Destructiveness” that if we are talking not about individual, but about group narcissism, then the individual is fully aware of his belonging to a collective ideology and openly expresses his views. When someone claims: “My homeland is the most beautiful in the world” (or: “My nation is the smartest”, “My religion is the most developed”, “My people are the most peace-loving”, etc., etc. .), then this doesn’t seem crazy to anyone. On the contrary, it is called patriotism, conviction, loyalty and unity of the people.

At the same time, Fromm noted that group narcissism performs important functions in society. First, it strengthens the group from within and makes it easier to manipulate the group as a whole. Secondly, narcissism gives group members, especially those who themselves have little value and have little reason to be proud of themselves, a sense of satisfaction. In a group, even the most insignificant and downtrodden person in his soul can justify his existence. Consequently, the degree of group narcissism corresponds to real dissatisfaction with life. Social classes which have more joys in life are much less susceptible to patriotic fanaticism. And the poor, disadvantaged in many areas of material and spiritual life, suffer from unbearable emptiness and boredom and are very susceptible to such fanaticism. Third, it is very beneficial for the national budget to stimulate group narcissism. “In fact,” says Fromm, “it costs nothing and cannot be compared with spending on social needs and on improving the standard of living. It is enough to pay for the work of ideologists who formulate slogans aimed at inciting social narcissism. And many functionaries: teachers, journalists, priests and professors are ready to cooperate in this area, even for free! The reward that is enough for them is the satisfaction of being involved in a worthy cause and pride in their contribution to this cause and their growing authority.” Isn't it very familiar? As if we are not talking about the West of the second half of the 20th century, but directly about Russia at the beginning of the 21st century.

As I already mentioned, many historical factors contributed to the “narcissism” of society in Rossini (isolation, the autism of life behind the Iron Curtain). Without going into a detailed pathopsychological analysis, I will only say that I had (and still have) pre-Oedipal patients whose communication was limited only to the primary family. With others, they maintained, at best, only formal relations before and at the beginning of therapy. Thus, the previously noted narcissistic characteristics of land surveyor K. are typical Russian traits.

There is, however, in the novel a hint of oedipalism, of the phallic nature of the land surveyor K. From the Castle they send him two assistants, whom the land surveyor pushes around, with whom he behaves easily, but who constantly do not listen to him, constantly showing independence and childish playfulness. At the very beginning of their appearance, K. tells them with amazement: “How, exactly, do you order to distinguish between you? Only your names differ, otherwise you are similar to each other... how,” he paused, then involuntarily continued, “in other respects, you are really similar to each other, like snakes.” A rather strange turn of phrase, I must say, “they look like snakes,” but strange for someone who is not familiar with psychoanalytic symbolism. The snake is, as Sigmund Freud wrote, one of the most typical phallic symbols. In particular, a very common phobia of snakes is associated with this fact. This means that two phalluses were sent from the Castle to help the surveyor.

But why two? The answer to this question can be found in the story “The First Woe,” written around the same time as “The Castle.” This is a very short story about an acrobat who constantly sat on a trapeze without getting off. “...And then the acrobat suddenly burst into tears. Deeply frightened, the impresario jumped up and asked what happened... And only after long questions and various kind words did the acrobat, sobbing, say: “Only with this one stick in his hands - is it possible to live like that!” The impresario had to promise that at the next place on the tour the acrobat would perform on two trapezes. I think there is no need to remind you that a stick is as undeniably a phallic symbol as a snake. Thus, we see almost identical scenarios: two phalluses are sent from the parental authority to the hero. How unmasculine, weak and non-phallic the hero must feel that two phalluses are needed to compensate for this feeling!

On the other hand, the “Castle - Kitezh” parallel gives rise to another series of considerations. Great Kitezh was transformed, became the Heavenly City, Paradise, a sacred place. This type of garden city is also known in Russian literature - these are the famous Petushki, where the hangover Venichka Erofeev was traveling but did not get there: “Petushki is a place where birds do not stop talking either day or night, where jasmine does not bloom in winter or summer. Original sin - maybe there was one - does not bother anyone there. There, even those who don’t dry out for weeks have a bottomless and clear look...” Great Kitezh is a heavenly city, and heaven is a return to childhood, to infancy. Sigmund Freud wrote in his work “The Discontents of Culture,” responding to a letter from Romain Rolland, about the “oceanic” feeling inherent in any religious person - the feeling of eternity, boundlessness, vastness, “the feeling of an inextricable connection, of belonging to the world whole.” These feelings are apparently associated with fantasy ideas about heavenly boundless bliss. Freud reduces the “oceanic” feeling to an early stage of the “I” feeling; it only serves to restore “boundless narcissism.” However, the founder of psychoanalysis saw the source of religiosity not in the “oceanic” feeling, but in childhood helplessness and the adoration of the father associated with it: the father protects the helpless child with his power. “It is difficult for me to give,” Freud wrote, “another example of a need as strong in childhood as the need for paternal protection. Therefore, the role of the “oceanic” feeling is secondary..."

The fact that the Castle is connected for K. with childhood is confirmed by the quote I have already given: “For a moment K. remembered his hometown, which was hardly inferior in any way to this so-called Castle.”

So, for a land surveyor, the Castle is a sacred place associated with ideas about a desired but unattainable paradise. Mundane space is a village where you can move in accordance with the earthly laws of physics. But attempts to penetrate into the sacred space - into the Castle - lead to the fact that the space is torn, broken, it does not allow the surveyor to move forward. I would like to go to heaven, but sins don’t let me in!

I already hinted above that land surveyor K. felt sinful and guilty, and that is why the Great Kitezh Castle was not revealed to him. The land surveyor's sin was irrational, fantastic, hidden from his own consciousness. He unconsciously experiences his guilt in front of women (Frida, Olga, Amalia), and this guilt is associated with a depressive position. Melanie Klein, the founder of the psychoanalytic theory of object relations, in her work “Psychogenesis of Manic-Depressive States” introduced the concept of the infantile depressive position and showed the connection between this position and manic-depressive states. She wrote that the baby experiences depressive feelings caused by guilt. The object that is mourned is the mother's breast and all that goodness that breasts and milk represent to the child's mind. The child feels that he has lost it all, and has lost it as a result of his own uncontrollable greedy and destructive fantasies regarding the mother's breast. In short, persecution (by bad objects) and the characteristic defenses against it, on the one hand, and longing for a loved (good) object, on the other, constitute the depressive position.

Joan Riveri, a collaborator of Melanie Klein, in the article “On the Origin of Mental Conflict in Early Infancy,” connects depressive feelings of guilt with masochism, noting that guilt, unlike masochistic suffering, does not give rise to either erotic or aggressive satisfaction, that it involves a refusal to satisfy both primary instinctual drives. However, Freud also wrote about “moral” sadomasochism (as opposed to sexual deviation). Therefore, I will use the words “guilt” and “masochism”, if not as synonyms, then as very close concepts.

So, land surveyor K. experiences an unconscious feeling of guilt, depression and a masochistic desire to punish himself. This feeling of guilt is associated with a depressive position, with fantasies - he himself is to blame for having lost parental (maternal) love, destroying it (and parental authorities) with his destructive impulses. As punishment, he (on an unconscious level) does not allow himself to return to his mother, to the Castle. But to cope with the feeling of guilt, he uses manic defenses: he rebels, tries to break through there in any way.

Such is the Russian people: they are not always disoriented and depressed, as Chaadaev wrote, they are not always ready for masochistic self-punishment, as Rancourt-Laferriere claims, but periodically explodes into manic riots and revolutions or heroic military exploits. And again we are convinced how close Kafka’s hero is to the “Russian spirit”, to the Russian mentality. Truly: here is the Russian spirit, here it smells of Russia!

2.38. Use the “hail of questions”! A woman sounds proud. And also loud, capricious and stupid. Tear-off calendar “Did you know?” From a manual for a bitch. It happens that you need to find out from a man something that he does not want to tell you. Or do you just want his reaction for