Franz Kafka was a German-speaking writer from Prague whose work became one of the foundations of modern literature, even though he published only a small part of his writing during his lifetime. Born into a middle-class Jewish family in Prague, then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Kafka grew up amid German, Czech, and Jewish cultural influences that shaped his sense of displacement and linguistic precision. His difficult relationship with his authoritarian father left a lasting mark, fostering feelings of guilt, anxiety, and inadequacy that became central themes in his fiction and personal writings. Kafka studied law at the German University in Prague, earning a doctorate in 1906. He chose law for practical reasons rather than personal inclination, a compromise that troubled him throughout his life. After university, he worked for several insurance institutions, most notably the Workers Accident Insurance Institute for the Kingdom of Bohemia. His duties included assessing industrial accidents and drafting legal reports, work he carried out competently and responsibly. Nevertheless, Kafka regarded his professional life as an obstacle to his true vocation, and most of his writing was done at night or during periods of illness and leave. Kafka began publishing short prose pieces in his early adulthood, later collected in volumes such as Contemplation and A Country Doctor. These works attracted little attention at the time but already displayed the hallmarks of his mature style, including precise language, emotional restraint, and the application of calm logic to deeply unsettling situations. His major novels The Trial, The Castle, and Amerika were left unfinished and unpublished during his lifetime. They depict protagonists trapped within opaque systems of authority, facing accusations, rules, or hierarchies that remain unexplained and unreachable. Themes of alienation, guilt, bureaucracy, law, and punishment run throughout Kafka’s work. His characters often respond to absurd or terrifying circumstances with obedience or resignation, reflecting his own conflicted relationship with authority and obligation. Kafka’s prose avoids overt symbolism, yet his narratives function as powerful metaphors through structure, repetition, and tone. Ordinary environments gradually become nightmarish without losing their internal coherence. Kafka’s personal life was marked by emotional conflict, chronic self-doubt, and recurring illness. He formed intense but troubled romantic relationships, including engagements that he repeatedly broke off, fearing that marriage would interfere with his writing. His extensive correspondence and diaries reveal a relentless self-critic, deeply concerned with morality, spirituality, and the demands of artistic integrity. In his later years, Kafka’s health deteriorated due to tuberculosis, forcing him to withdraw from work and spend long periods in sanatoriums. Despite his illness, he continued writing when possible. He died young, leaving behind a large body of unpublished manuscripts. Before his death, he instructed his close friend Max Brod to destroy all of his remaining work. Brod ignored this request and instead edited and published Kafka’s novels, stories, and diaries, ensuring his posthumous reputation. The publication of Kafka’s work after his death established him as one of the most influential writers of the twentieth century. The term Kafkaesque entered common usage to describe situations marked by oppressive bureaucracy, absurd logic, and existential anxiety. His writing has been interpreted through existential, religious, psychological, and political perspectives, though Kafka himself resisted definitive meanings. His enduring power lies in his ability to articulate modern anxiety with clarity and restraint.
Kafka'nın yaşamı başlı başına incelenmesi gereken bir olgu bana göre, bu bağlamda "Kovalı Süvari" Kafka'nın ölümünden sonra çıkan derlemeler içinde en önemlilerden biri.
Altıkırkbeş yayınmcılık her bölüme başlarken açıklayıcı notlar düşmüş, ayrıca kitabın sonuna Kafka'nın yaşamına dair bir bir özet de eklemiş ki bitirdiğinizde aklınızda bir soru işareti kalmıyor.
Onu anlamak, yazarken aklından neler geçtiğini hissetmek istiyorsanız mutlaka okumalısınız...
-Sehv xatirlamirsamsa Kafka bu kicik hekayesinde tam da bunu deyirdi. Insan olmaq , gorunmek ve ferqine varilmaq ucun zengin de olmasan, yoxsul olmamalisan ve he o bir de sey var idi, o sondaki kilse zengi....
قصة قصيرة عن فقير ينفذ منه الفحم الذي يشعله في المدفئة في ليلة شتاء قارص البرودة فيقرر الذهاب لمحل بائع الفحم ليستعطفه كي يمنحه قليلا من الفحم رغم عدم امتلاكه مالا .. لكن صاحب المحل و زوجته يعاملانه باحتقار كأنه لا شئ و لا يحصل على الفحم . روح كافكا السوداوية ظاهرة في القصة فالفقير يحاول إذلال نفسه كي يظهر حاجته لبائع الفحم فيقرر الذهاب من البيت إلى المحل و هو داخل دلو الفحم ثم النهاية الصادمة المستسلمة " وبهذا صعدت إلى أقاليم جبال الجليد وضعت للأبد"
"Who is the coaldealer? Who is the beggar?" I found myself asking those questions as I was nearing the middle of the story, searching for the deeper meaning. Once again, Kafka managed to eerily parallel decades-old history with present-day. I'm not sure if it was his intent, but I have found all of Kafka's works to be very social justice-oriented. For such a short story (much shorter than the others I've read by him), it still carried a profound message. The blissful and willful ignorance of those in positions of 'authority' is a continual abuse of power that only serves to subvert the dignity and rights of those who are less privileged.
The Bucket Rider by Franz Kalka with stream of consciousness, perfectly captures despair and cold inhumanity. I believe writers such as Rod Serling and Harlen Ellison were greatly influenced by Kaffka's nightmarish short stories. For this reason, this story and Kalka's other works are must reading for any fan of Serling, Ellison, or weird tales.
Franz Kafka's The Bucket Rider is a short prose-piece. Coal all spent; an empty bucket; the stove breathing out cold - I must have coal. I must ride out and seek aid from the coal-merchant; yet he has already grown deaf to ordinary appeals. I must prove, such that he cannot deny it, that I have not a grain of coal left.
'My mode of arrival must decide the matter; so I ride off on the bucket. Seated on the bucket, my hands on the handle, the simplest kind of bridle, I propel myself with difficulty down the stairs; but once downstairs my bucket ascends, superbly, superbly; camels humbly squatting on the ground do not rise with more dignity, shaking themselves under the sticks of their drivers.'
Read on?
What's interesting? Kafka and the basics. Less interested in any panorama, Franz Kafka very often takes one, or in the longer stories a small handful, of the many 'basics' of living within a society (or less frequently from the existence of a solitary being) and he shakes it to see what falls out. See A Hunger Artist for the basics of acknowledgement, see The Trial for the basics of guilt, see The Castle for the basics of social acceptance. And read The Bucket Rider for the basics of charity as applied to the individual and not the state.
Kafka's predicament - again the predicament - is the one of a man in a freezing room and without 'a single grain of coal left'. He will 'fly' to the local coal-merchant, a man with a family, a man who has created a business, he will prove incontrovertibly that the stove is 'breathing out cold', and then the obligation will be presented. The obligation of charity. Does the society you're in lay this basic obligation on you?
On the validity of these social basics Kafka's authorial voice usually remains silent. The Trial's rules of guilt; The Castle's rules of social acceptance - he writes the protagonist's partisan judgement, but it is clearly that - partisan. The authorial all-knowing voice is written in the neutral matter-of-fact manner. It is the only way to get the humour he wants, and, probably more importantly, the only way to get the casual horror of these situations. Unusually though, the authorial voice within The Bucket Rider does not tend to come across as impartial, though it technically is impartial, and that is because it is emphatically written in the first-person, the ' I ', format. Perhaps Mr. Kafka in his room was very cold indeed that winter. (https://markeldersonbooks.blogspot.com)
“You bad woman!” I shout back, while she, turning into the shop, half-contemptuous, half reassured, flourishes her fist in the air. “You bad woman! I begged you for a shovelful of the worst coal and you would not give it to me.” And with that I ascend into the regions of the ice mountains and am lost forever.
The story is about a man looking for coal to fill his bucket. He is a poor man and hopes that the coal-dealer will be generous enough to lend him some coal. He claims that he will pay for the coal later. When he arrives, he pleads for the coal, but it soon becomes apparent that the coal-dealer and his wife are oblivious to his needs. The wife in particular ignores him. I am not humbled to confess that my eyes were wet by the end of this short story. Kafka! You magnificent bastard you!
Es ist eine (sehr kurze) Kurzgeschichte, deshalb werde ich sie nicht wirklich bewerten. Vor dem Hintergrund des ersten Weltkrieges und den schlechten Wetterbedingungen, aber ein interessanter Einblick in die damalige Zeit.
A great social commentary discussing if we as humans have a moral obligation to support others. Bringing up themes of capitalism, destitution and the dependence of marriage/relationships on economic profit. We question as readers why the wife turns him away and if a shovel of the worst quality coal is worth a man's life.
The parallelism between the unforgiving winter and cold hearted wife is definitely something to consider; as well as class and the idea of social vs state responsibility.
To be frank, this made me rather emotional, and though not Kafka's most popular work, is still my favourite of his! I would highly recommend it to anyone interested in humanitarian works and social critique (eg. Dickens, H.G Wells...).
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
A brief history of Kafka that provokes us about the absurdities of authority and power. Where these two human facets overlap any kind of generosity or compassion.
And that perhaps the meaning that each one has of his life is so selfish that it usurps a minimal action that can mean until the death or the life of another person.
As Raul Seixas, a famous Brazilian singer, sang: "My selfishness is so selfish that the height of my selfishness is wanting to help."
In this story there is the cruelty of the selfishness of the absurdity of human society, where there is no empathy if the individual is engrossed in other values such as the blindness of profit, for example.
And where does all this go? "And with that I ascend to the regions of the icy mountains and lose myself for never again."
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Uma história singela de Kafka que nos provoca sobre os absurdos da autoridade e do poder. Onde essas duas facetas humanas sobrepõem-se a qualquer tipo de generosidade ou compaixão.
E que talvez o sentido que cada um tem de sua vida é tão egoísta que usurpa uma mínima ação que pode significar até a morte ou a vida de outra pessoa.
Como cantou Raul Seixas, um famoso cantor brasileiro: " o meu egoísmo é tão egoísta, que o auge do meu egoísmo é querer ajudar".
Nessa história há a crueldade do egoísmo do absurdo da sociedade humana, onde não há empatia se o indivíduo está absorto em outros valores como na cegueira do lucro, por exemplo.
E para onde tudo isso vai? "E com isso ascendo às regiões das montanhas geladas e me perco para nunca mais".
Franz Kafka's The Bucket Rider is a short story that follows a beggar who goes to a coal dealer, just to be rejected by his wife. It felt similar to the tale of Beauty & The Beast, where someone privileged is asked for something but they do not comply, and there will be consequences.
I loved the way that Kafka told this story. The language he used was very whimsical and had a lot of religious ties. In the beginning, Kafka references one of the Ten Commandments, "thou shalt not kill." It almost feels like the narrator is praying to a higher power for coal.
The narrator of The Bucket Rider reminded me of a fey creature from D&D. It almost feels like the narrator isn't real, the way that the wife claims not to hear anything and it only exists in the coal dealer's imagination.
The way that the narrator speaks of "riding a bucket" as though it were normal makes it seem like it's magical. I read this story with a college creative writing class, and everyone interpreted the way he rode the bucket differently. Some people saw him utilizing it like a sled, others thought of him riding it circus ball style; I interpreted it as a flying bucket, and that this was a magical realism short story.
To me it seems that our government is the coal dealer's wife, media is the coal dealer, and we are the ones begging for a bucket of coal so that we wouldn't freeze to death. This was written in 1917, and I'm relating it to a 2019 situation. More than hundreds of years have passed, and Kafka's stories still have meaning. Amazing.
What the words tell of a person. It's dreadful what they tell of Kafka. The buckets so light, we fly onto the cloud of a head, empty castle for a brain, dreams and dreams, and even there, the fists turn toward us, the hard of hearing harder still, us, up in the empty castle for a brain, the icy mountain, lost for good.
As Italo Calvino so eloquently notes in Lightness, "It may be that Kafka only wanted to tell us that going out to look for a bit of coal on a cold, wartime night changes the mere swinging of an empty bucket into the quest of a knight-errant or the desert crossing of a caravan or a flight on a magic carpet." Indeed, "...the fuller it is, the less it will be able to fly."
"Нипошто не смем да се смрзнем" - након одсечно изречених неколико нимало обећавајућих одређења околности. Узда се у трговца угљем и то да ће, иако отврднуо на молбе, ипак бити "обасјан зраком заповести" не убиј!. Не проси угаљ на вересију и не проси свој живот, проси морални поредак да се одржи, друштво да опстане. Али уколико њега издају међуљудски закони, утолико издаје и он законе разума, јаше на канти, као господин на коњу и губи се у планинама.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Oy verirken kararsız kaldım oylamayı öyküler için mi yapmalıyım yoksa kitap için mi? Öyküler içinse Kafka zaten bana laf düşmez der geçerim ama kitap içinse bir çift lafım var. Orjinalinden okumadığım için çeviri kalitesini sorgulayamam sanki ama bana özensiz bir çeviri gibi geldi. Ayrıca yazım hataları da kitaptan soğuttu.
Ölmem mümkündü ama acılara katlanabilmem değil; acılardan kaçmaya çalışarak onları katlıyordum aslında; ölüme razı olabilirdim ama çektiğim ıstıraba daha fazla dayanamazdım; ruhumda hareketin zerresi yoktu; denklerin hazırlanması gibi, güçlükle bağlanan ipler nasıl ikide bir sıkılanır ama bir türlü yola çıkılamaz, tıpkı böyle işte. En kötü şey, öldürmeyen acılardır.