"John Updike...

>"John Updike, in his foreword to an English language collection of Kafka's stories calls it (along with "Wedding Preparations in the Country," another early story) "repellent" containing "something of adolescent posturing" and advises new readers of Kafka to skip them."

Is John Updike right here?

What do you think of Kafka's early stories?

Link: vanderbilt.edu/olli/class-materials/Franz_Kafka.pdf

>reading anything by Updike

Here's your mistake

This.

The presence of an Updick foreword poisons the entire book, so yes, you should indeed skip this version.

They are messy and "adolescent" in the sense that the Kafka who wrote them was not yet at the height of his powers. I think those particular stories were really only vehicles for Kafka to develop his technique and style. But that technique and style in and of themselves are very impressive, even at that early stage in his career, and so I wouldn't call the stories repellent at all. Wedding Preparations has a fantastic opening to a short story, basically a flaneur-style series of very clear and delicate descriptions of a modern bustling city that shows the influence of Flaubert. The descriptions don't lead anywhere, but the pleasure of reading them justifies the experience enough for me.

So maybe I wouldn't recommend them to a first time reader, but if you're interested in seeing how the greatest fiction writer of the 20th century developed his craft they're well worth a look.

Updike is underrated.

have you even read Updike lmao

>The emperor—it is said—sent to you, the one apart, the wretched subject, the tiny shadow that fled far, far from the imperial sun, precisely to you he sent a message from his deathbed. He bade the messenger kneel by his bed, and whispered the message in his ear. So greatly did he cherish it that he had him repeat it into his ear. With a nod of his head he confirmed the accuracy of the messenger’s words. And before the entire spectatorship of his death—all obstructing walls have been torn down and the great figures of the empire stand in a ring upon the broad, soaring exterior stairways—before all these he dispatched the messenger. The messenger set out at once; a strong, an indefatigable man; thrusting forward now this arm, now the other, he cleared a path though the crowd; every time he meets resistance he points to his breast, which bears the sign of the sun; and he moves forward easily, like no other. But the crowds are so vast; their dwellings know no bounds. If open country stretched before him, how he would fly, and indeed you might soon hear the magnificent knocking of his fists on your door. But instead, how uselessly he toils; he is still forcing his way through the chambers of the innermost palace; never will he overcome them; and were he to succeed at this, nothing would be gained: he would have to fight his way down the steps; and were he to succeed at this, nothing would be gained: he would have to cross the courtyard and, after the courtyard, the second enclosing outer palace, and again stairways and courtyards, and again a palace, and so on through thousands of years; and if he were to burst out at last through the outermost gate—but it can never, never happen—before him still lies the royal capital, the middle of the world, piled high in its sediment. Nobody reaches through here, least of all with a message from one who is dead. You, however, sit at your window and dream of the message when evening comes.

Kafka was a subversive jew and a bad writer, as jews always are. The only people who think otherwise are mad-at-the-world teenagers, which this jew targeted to drive a wedge through our societies, and whom other jews promoted to achieve the same goal. This is what kikes do.

unironically no