Kafka and his Precursors
by Jorge Luis Borges
(Translated by James E. Irby)Publisher owns content:
Everything and Nothing. Jorge Luis Borges. New Directions. NYC NY. 1999.(addendum: vonibot retires)
I once premeditated making a study of Kafka's precursors. At first I had considered him to be singular as the phoenix of rhetorical praise; after frequenting his pages a bit, I came to think I could recognize his voice, or his practices, in texts from diverse literatures and periods. I shall record a few of these here, in chronological order.
The first is Zeno's paradox against movement. A moving object at A (declares Aristotle) cannot reach point B, because it must first cover half the distance between two points, and before that, half of the half, and before that, half of the half of the half, and so on to infinity; the form of this illustrious problem is, exactly, that of The Castle and the moving object and the arrow and Achilles are the first Kafkian characters in literature. In the second text which chance laid before me, the affinity is not one of form but one of tone. It is an apologue of Han Yu, a prose writer of the ninth century, and is reproduced in Margoulies' admirable Anthologie raisonnee de la litterature chinoise (1948). This is the paragraph, mysterious and calm, which I marked: "It is universally admitted that the unicorn is a supernatural being of good omen. such is declared in all the odes, annals, biographies of illustrious men and other texts whose authority is unquestionable. Even children and village women know that the unicorn constitutes a favorable presage. But this animal does not figure among the domestic beasts, it is not always easy to find, it does not lend itself to classification. It is not like the horse or the bull, the wolf or the deer. In such conditions, we could be face to face with a unicorn and not know for certain what it was. We know that such and such an animal with horns is a bull. But we do not know what the unicorn is like. (1)(1) Nonrecognition of the sacred animal and its opprobrious or accidental death at the hands of the people are traditional themes in Chinese literature. See the last chapter of Jung's Psychologie and Alchemie (Zürich, 1944) which contains two curious illustrations.The third text derives from a more easily predictable source: the writings of Kierkegaard. The spiritual affinity of both writers is something of which no one is ignorant; what has not yet been brought out, as far as I know, is the fact that Kierkegaard, like Kafka, wrote many religious parables on contemporary and bourgeois themes. Lowrie, in his Kierkegaard (Oxford University Press, 1938), transcribes two of these. One is the story of a counterfeiter who, under constant surveillance, counts banknotes in the Bank of England; in the same way, God would distrust Kierkegaard and have given him a task to perform, precisely because He knew that he was familiar with evil. The subject of the other parable is the North Pole expeditions. Danish ministers had declared from their pulpits that participation in these expeditions was beneficial to the soul's eternal well-being. They admitted, however, that is was difficult, and perhaps impossible, to reach the Pole and that not all men could undertake the adventure. Finally, they would announce that any trip – from Denmark to London, let us say, on the regularly scheduled steamer – was, properly considered, and expedition to the North Pole. The fourth of these prefigurations I have found is Browning's poem "Fears and Scruples,' published in 1876. A man has, or believes he has, a famous friend. He has never seen this friend and the fact is that the friend has so far never helped him, although tales are told of his most noble traits and authentic letters of his circulate about. Then someone places these traits in doubt and the handwriting experts declare that the letters are apocryphal. The man asks, in the last line: 'And if this friend were...God?
My notes also register two stories. One is from Léon Bloy's Histories désobligeantes and relates the case of some people who possess all manner of globes, atlases, railroad guides and trunks, but who die without ever having managed to leave their home town. The other is entitled 'Carcass one' and is the work of Lord Dunsany. An invincible army of warriors leaves an infinite castle, conquers kingdoms and sees monsters and exhausts the deserts and the mountains, but they never reach Carcassonne, though once they glimpse it from afar. (This story is, as one can easily see, the strict reverse of the previous one; in the first, the city is never left; in the second, it is never reached.)
If I am not mistaken, the heterogeneous pieces I have enumerated resemble Kafka; if I am not mistaken, not all of them resemble each other. This second fact is the more significant. In each of these texts we find Kafka's idiosyncrasy to a greater or lesser degree, but if Kafka had never written a line, we would not perceive this quality; in other words, it would not exist. The poem, 'Fears and Scruples' by Browning foretells Kafka's work, but our reading of Kafka perceptibly sharpens and deflects our reading of the poem. Browning did not read it as we do now. In the critics' vocabulary, the word 'precursor' is indispensable, but it should be cleansed of all connotation of polemics or rivalry. The fact is the every writer creates his own precursors. His work modifies our conception of the past, as it will modify the future.(2) In this correlation the identity or plurality of the men involved is unimportant. The early Kafka of Betrachtung is less a precursor of the Kafka of somber myths and atrocious institutions than is Browning or Lord Dunsany.2 See T.S.Eliot: Points of View (1941), 25-26.
I am happy if you actually just took the time to read the wonderful work of Borges. I think he is worth the time it can take to understand his approach to the written word--and hopefully, if you have not read Kafka--this will convince you that spending an hour with Kafka is worth missing >>>>>insert reality TV program name here<<<<< and a hell of a lot more interesting.
This essay speaks to me--especially--as I announce my retirement from Lux.
I want to thank all of the precursors who shaped my game: Dustin, Chumdinger, Kef, Rob, Shopi, Atom, and especially Sasquatch, Pi, and Preach.
In so many ways, you all wrote the doctrine for me--and not just those I mentioned--but all of you I played.
There is not an ideological reason I am retiring, I am not stomping off in a fit of rage or contempt, and strangely, I feel no desire to lash out about anything really (except that if you are 18 and an American citizen, you better fucking vote on November 2--this election is too important not to!).
And yes, I must admit, there is vanity to my announcement--A little celebration and cheer in the end is all one can ever hope for, I suppose.
Really, there is only one reason for my retirement: time.
I seem to have little time to play Lux and I don't just want to fade away in the rankings to be forgotten. who does really? (And fuck off, mofo, if you have a problem with me being too honest about it.)
If you want to keep in touch you can send me a personal message to my forum inbox. I will be checking in over the next couple weeks, however, my last game will be on October 9.