A Country Doctor - Hardcover

Franz Kafka

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9788090217140: A Country Doctor

Synopsis

Written during the winter of 1916-17 when Kafka was living in one of the tiny houses on Golden Lane (formerly Alchimistengasse) at Prague Castle, and published in spring 1920 by Kurt Wolff Verlag, the 14 short fictions comprising this volume are interconnected by a persistent exploration of identity, where even animals anthropomorphize into a new identity. "Before the Law," "A Country Doctor," and "A Report for an Academy" are among the most renowned stories he produced, and Kevin Blahut has rendered them in an English that is contemporary and fresh, capturing perfectly the nightmarish humor of Kafka's prose.

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About the Author

Franz Kafka, was born in Prague July 3, 1883. The son of a middle-class Jewish family, his father owned a shop on the corner of Kinsky Palace on Old Town Square. Kafka studied at the German Gymnasium in Prague and went on to receive a law degree in 1906, later working for the Workers' Accident Insurance Co. Among his best known works are "The Metamorphosis," "The Trial," "In the Penal Colony," and "The Castle." He died of tuberculosis on June 3, 1924 and is buried in Prague's New Jewish Cemetery.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

IN THE GALLERY If some frail, consumptive artistic rider in the ring sat atop a staggering horse before a tireless audience, forced to go in circles for months without interruption by a merciless, whip-swinging ringmaster, flying past on the horse, throwing kisses, swaying from her waist, and if this game continued to the unrelenting roar of the orchestra and the ventilating fans, moving into the gray future that was opening ever wider, accompanied by the fading and rising applause of hands that are actually steam-hammers maybe then a young spectator in the gallery would run down the stairs, through all the rows of the audience, burst into the ring and, his voice breaking through the fanfares of the orchestra, adapting itself to anything, cry: Stop!

However, since this is not the way things are; a beautiful lady, white and red, flies in between the curtains, which the proud stagehands open for her; the director, devotedly seeking her eyes, breathing at her with the bearing of an animal; carefully lifts her up onto the dappled horse, as though she were, more than anything else, his beloved granddaughter who was setting out on a dangerous journey; cannot decide to give the signal with his whip; finally, overcoming himself, gives it like a shot; runs after the horse with his mouth open; regards the jumps the rider makes with sharp glances; can scarcely comprehend her artistic skill; tries to warn her with exclamations in English; angrily admonishes the stableboys holding the reins to take the most painful care; before the great somersault lifts up his hands to signal to the orchestra that they should be quiet; finally lifts the little one from the trembling horse, kisses her on both cheeks and considers every tribute by the audience to be inadequate; while she, supported by him, high on her tiptoes, dust blowing around her, tries to share her happiness with the entire circus by extending her arms and leaning back her head since this is how it is, the spectator in the gallery lays his head on the balustrade and, sinking into the final march as into a heavy dream, cries without knowing it.

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