No laughing matter

The Nobel prize is nothing. The real badge of literary greatness is the addition of the ‘esque’ suffix to one’s name and, if you’re truly outstanding, the word ‘nightmare’, too. Franz Kafka manages this distinguished double, although some readers find the connotations of horror arise not so much from his totalitarian dystopias as from his prose. But it’s best to approach Kafka with an open mind.

The Nobel prize is nothing. The real badge of literary greatness is the addition of the ‘esque’ suffix to one’s name and, if you’re truly outstanding, the word ‘nightmare’, too. Franz Kafka manages this distinguished double, although some readers find the connotations of horror arise not so much from his totalitarian dystopias as from his prose. But it’s best to approach Kafka with an open mind.

I greatly enjoyed the start of Metamorphosis and my hopes were high that Gregor Samsa’s transformation into a giant dung-beetle would develop into a sparkling comedy of manners with his anxious parents trying to marry him off to a landowner’s daughter. ‘He eats anything. Literally. And he’s brilliant if you’ve got squatters. One look, and they pack their bags.’ Or they might have sold him to a circus impresario. ‘He’ll bring the house down. And clear up after the elephants.’ But Kafka’s talent for persecution fantasies outweighed his comic gifts and the book turned into a dispiriting tale of victimised impotence.

The same is true of The Trial, in which someone with less than half a surname, Joseph K, is arrested for something less than a proper crime. This tricky material has been turned into a satire by the estimable comic writer Tom Basden. As he discovers, Mr K is a tough character to dramatise.