Glancing at Kafka

I don't know what it is. But unlike Jonathan Derbyshire, I can't see what's extraordinarily rich about Roberto Calasso’s K. Last year, I couldn’t understand why John Banville called Pietro Citati's Kafka "the greatest of all books on Kafka". Neither book seemed to be about the Kafka I know. Maybe it's because I find Kafka's novels unreadable in comparison to the stories, letters and diaries. Each book spends a lot of time on the novels. I found it difficult to retain interest. The individual words and sentences were read, the pages turned, yet only the odd glance was noted. Adam Mars-Jones picks up on this. His review of K is spot on.

I'm disappointed as both Calasso's and Citati's are non-academic critical engagements with Kafka published in the mainstream. What's more, neither relies on the subject's biography! An English edition of Blanchot’s De Kafka à Kafka would go a long way to easing my regret.