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caterinasofia's review against another edition
5.0
Ich habe dieses Buch tatsächlich ohne großes Nachdenken angefangen zu lesen weil ich ein Zitat gesehen hatte, das ich ganz interessant fand.
Dieses Buch war tatsächlich richtig gut und es ist total interessant zu lesen, wie Kafka seine Beziehung mit seinem Vater reflektiert, so ganz beobachtend und trotzdem irgendwie emotional. Franz Kafka ist auch mit sich selbst ganz kritisch und er- beziehungsweise verarbeitet auch einzelne Situationen und geht dabei auch immer auf den Unterschied zwischen dem kindlichen Denken damals und dem jetzt erwachsenen, aber immer noch gleichen Auffassen ein. Ein wirklich tolles Buch und mir gefällt der Schreibstil total gut, ganz präzise und filigran, mit vielen schönen Worten aber auch dunkel, da das Thema natürlich sehr schwer und beladen ist.
Ich habe jetzt definitiv schon ein Bild von ihm im Kopf und bin gespannt, wie mir dieser Brief dabei hilft, andere Lektüren von Kafka zu verstehen, weil er ja in seinen Werken viel die Beziehung zu seinem Vater verarbeiten soll, wie ich gehört habe.
In Kafka we trust.
Das Zitat, das ich vor dem Lesen gesehen habe:
„Ich wäre glücklich gewesen, Dich als Freund, als Chef, als Onkel, als Großvater, ja selbst als Schwiegervater zu haben. Nur eben als Vater warst Du zu stark für mich“
Dieses Buch war tatsächlich richtig gut und es ist total interessant zu lesen, wie Kafka seine Beziehung mit seinem Vater reflektiert, so ganz beobachtend und trotzdem irgendwie emotional. Franz Kafka ist auch mit sich selbst ganz kritisch und er- beziehungsweise verarbeitet auch einzelne Situationen und geht dabei auch immer auf den Unterschied zwischen dem kindlichen Denken damals und dem jetzt erwachsenen, aber immer noch gleichen Auffassen ein. Ein wirklich tolles Buch und mir gefällt der Schreibstil total gut, ganz präzise und filigran, mit vielen schönen Worten aber auch dunkel, da das Thema natürlich sehr schwer und beladen ist.
Ich habe jetzt definitiv schon ein Bild von ihm im Kopf und bin gespannt, wie mir dieser Brief dabei hilft, andere Lektüren von Kafka zu verstehen, weil er ja in seinen Werken viel die Beziehung zu seinem Vater verarbeiten soll, wie ich gehört habe.
In Kafka we trust.
Das Zitat, das ich vor dem Lesen gesehen habe:
„Ich wäre glücklich gewesen, Dich als Freund, als Chef, als Onkel, als Großvater, ja selbst als Schwiegervater zu haben. Nur eben als Vater warst Du zu stark für mich“
hakki_sayin's review against another edition
2.0
Bunu da yarısında bıraktım. Çok da okuru ilgilendiren bir metin değil bence..
cmattei's review
emotional
sad
tense
fast-paced
5.0
As a new father, I will be reflecting on this piece for the rest of my life in order to do better.
btothhhhh's review against another edition
5.0
Heartbreaking, soul-crushing, yet inspiring. A confessional rant about one's authoritarian father from one of the most iconic authors is a rare find, and it is (sadly) Kafka's hyperconsciousness of emotion that makes this lament a devastatingly powerful read. Kinda great parenting prep??
"Dearest Father, You asked me recently why I claim to be afraid of you. I did not know, as usual, how to answer, partly for the very reason that I am afraid of you, partly because an explanation of my fear would require more details than I could even begin to make coherent in speech. And if I now try to answer in writing it will still be nowhere near complete, because even in writing my fear and its consequences raise a barrier between us and because the magnitude of material far exceeds my memory and my understanding."
"There is only one episode from those early years that I remember directly, perhaps you remember it too. I was whining persistently for water one night, certainly not because I was thirsty, but in all probability partly to be annoying, partly to amuse myself. After a number of fierce threats had failed, you lifted me out of my bed, carried me out onto the pavlatche* and left me awhile all alone, standing outside the locked door in my nightshirt. I do not mean to say that this was wrong of you, perhaps at that time there really was no other way of having a peaceful night, but I mention it as a characteristic example of the way you brought me up and the effect it had on me. This incident almost certainly made me obedient for a time, but it damaged me on the inside."
"Our inability to get on calmly had one more very natural consequence: I lost the ability to speak. I probably never would have turned out to be a great speaker in any case, but I would at least have grasped language to a normal degree of fluency. However, you forbade me to speak from a very early age: your threat, "Not a word in contradiction!" together with the image of your raised hand, has haunted me ever since I can remember. In your presence - for you are, when on familiar ground, an excellent speaker - I stuttered and spluttered, that angered you too, in the end I stopped speaking, perhaps at first in defiance, but gradually because I really was no longer able to think or speak in your presence."
"It is also true that you hardly ever really beat me. But the way you screamed and went red in the face, the way you hastily undid your braces and hung them over the back of a chair - this was almost worse for me. Imagine a man who is about to be hanged. Hang him and he is dead, it is all over. But force him to witness all the preparations for his hanging and inform him of his reprieve only once the noose is dangling in front of his face, and you can make him suffer for the rest of his life."
"Dearest Father, You asked me recently why I claim to be afraid of you. I did not know, as usual, how to answer, partly for the very reason that I am afraid of you, partly because an explanation of my fear would require more details than I could even begin to make coherent in speech. And if I now try to answer in writing it will still be nowhere near complete, because even in writing my fear and its consequences raise a barrier between us and because the magnitude of material far exceeds my memory and my understanding."
"There is only one episode from those early years that I remember directly, perhaps you remember it too. I was whining persistently for water one night, certainly not because I was thirsty, but in all probability partly to be annoying, partly to amuse myself. After a number of fierce threats had failed, you lifted me out of my bed, carried me out onto the pavlatche* and left me awhile all alone, standing outside the locked door in my nightshirt. I do not mean to say that this was wrong of you, perhaps at that time there really was no other way of having a peaceful night, but I mention it as a characteristic example of the way you brought me up and the effect it had on me. This incident almost certainly made me obedient for a time, but it damaged me on the inside."
"Our inability to get on calmly had one more very natural consequence: I lost the ability to speak. I probably never would have turned out to be a great speaker in any case, but I would at least have grasped language to a normal degree of fluency. However, you forbade me to speak from a very early age: your threat, "Not a word in contradiction!" together with the image of your raised hand, has haunted me ever since I can remember. In your presence - for you are, when on familiar ground, an excellent speaker - I stuttered and spluttered, that angered you too, in the end I stopped speaking, perhaps at first in defiance, but gradually because I really was no longer able to think or speak in your presence."
"It is also true that you hardly ever really beat me. But the way you screamed and went red in the face, the way you hastily undid your braces and hung them over the back of a chair - this was almost worse for me. Imagine a man who is about to be hanged. Hang him and he is dead, it is all over. But force him to witness all the preparations for his hanging and inform him of his reprieve only once the noose is dangling in front of his face, and you can make him suffer for the rest of his life."
notyourvegetable's review against another edition
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
fast-paced
4.0
nzagalo's review against another edition
4.0
“Carta ao Pai” é como o próprio título indica, uma carta escrita a um pai, neste caso de Kafka para o seu pai. Os estudos em redor da sua origem demonstram que apesar de ter nascido como carta, teve várias formas posteriores com alterações de caráter mais literário, e por isso não é mero texto confessional não-ficcional, mas também não é romance. Chegou a ser dactilografada por um profissional a pedido de Kafka, foi entregue à sua mãe para assim chegar ao seu pai, foi entregue a uma namorada para se dar a conhecer a si próprio, mas nunca chegou às mãos do seu pai.
Dito isto, este curto texto, mas longa carta, fala da relação entre pai e filho, o que a momentos serve a todos nós, porque nos obriga a refletir sobre os nossos pais e os nossos filhos, põe o dedo por várias vezes em questões educativas complexas, com as quais todos nós nos debatemos, sem contudo apresentar defesas ou ataques severos, antes procurando sempre compreender o como e o porquê de cada uma dessas situações. À medida que o texto progride o tom vai mudando, e vamos percebendo a verdadeira motivação por detrás da sua escrita, assente no amor, nas clássicas oposições aos desejos e vontades matrimoniais dos filhos. Mas mesmo aqui, Kafka não é peremptório, já que acaba sempre por difundir a culpa, nunca apontando o dedo em riste, sempre procurando compreender, e mais do que isso, sempre dividindo a potencial culpa, entre pai e filho.
Mais que a qualidade do texto, ou interesse das histórias relatadas, este texto acaba sendo fundamental para compreender o mundo interior do autor de “O Processo”, “O Castelo”, e “A Metamorfose”. Podemos por esta via chegar ao âmago de alguém que apesar da vida facilitada proporcionada pela família, dos estudos e emprego estável conseguido, nunca se sentiu bem na sua pele, nunca se reviu naquilo que a vida lhe reservou, passou os seus dias, entre a comiseração e a desolação, tentando compreender os porquês, tentando dar respostas a si mesmo, indagando, e interrogando-se sobre a razão de tudo isto. Mesmo só obtendo prazer pleno na sua literatura, nem esta acabaria por lhe conseguir dar as repostas que procurava.
Não consigo deixar de juntar Kafka e Pessoa, nascidos em datas separadas por apenas 4 anos, judeus de nascença, sem contudo isso ditar as suas ações mas com impacto evidente na sua visão do mundo, encerrados sobre si mesmos, sozinhos, ambos viveram, ou sobreviveram, graças ao amor pela literatura.
Dito isto, este curto texto, mas longa carta, fala da relação entre pai e filho, o que a momentos serve a todos nós, porque nos obriga a refletir sobre os nossos pais e os nossos filhos, põe o dedo por várias vezes em questões educativas complexas, com as quais todos nós nos debatemos, sem contudo apresentar defesas ou ataques severos, antes procurando sempre compreender o como e o porquê de cada uma dessas situações. À medida que o texto progride o tom vai mudando, e vamos percebendo a verdadeira motivação por detrás da sua escrita, assente no amor, nas clássicas oposições aos desejos e vontades matrimoniais dos filhos. Mas mesmo aqui, Kafka não é peremptório, já que acaba sempre por difundir a culpa, nunca apontando o dedo em riste, sempre procurando compreender, e mais do que isso, sempre dividindo a potencial culpa, entre pai e filho.
Mais que a qualidade do texto, ou interesse das histórias relatadas, este texto acaba sendo fundamental para compreender o mundo interior do autor de “O Processo”, “O Castelo”, e “A Metamorfose”. Podemos por esta via chegar ao âmago de alguém que apesar da vida facilitada proporcionada pela família, dos estudos e emprego estável conseguido, nunca se sentiu bem na sua pele, nunca se reviu naquilo que a vida lhe reservou, passou os seus dias, entre a comiseração e a desolação, tentando compreender os porquês, tentando dar respostas a si mesmo, indagando, e interrogando-se sobre a razão de tudo isto. Mesmo só obtendo prazer pleno na sua literatura, nem esta acabaria por lhe conseguir dar as repostas que procurava.
Não consigo deixar de juntar Kafka e Pessoa, nascidos em datas separadas por apenas 4 anos, judeus de nascença, sem contudo isso ditar as suas ações mas com impacto evidente na sua visão do mundo, encerrados sobre si mesmos, sozinhos, ambos viveram, ou sobreviveram, graças ao amor pela literatura.