goes to visit the painter in the slums and finds. The most startling and accurate portrayal of mankind is found when K. One can be sure of their innocence, yet fall to the blade all the same. This memorable opening line is the perfect establishing shot for Kafka’s, and Joseph K.’s, world. Someone must have slandered Josef K., for one morning, without having done anything wrong, he was arrested.

Kafka’s nightmarish vision is the heartbeat of our own existence, chronicling the frustrations of futility when applying logic to the reality of the absurd, yet factual, nature of life. This is a dark comedy of the human comedy, full of the freeing chortles of gallow humor. The Trial is not for the faint of heart or fragile psyche yet, while the bleakness is laid on thick, it is also permeated with a marvelous sense of humor and a fluid prose that keeps the pages flipping and the reading hours pushing forward towards dawn. This is a world where man’s noose is only a doorway. However, this story of a trial-one that never occurs other than an arrest and a solitary conference that goes nowhere-over an unmentioned crime serves as a brutal allegory for our existence within a judgemental societal paradigm under the watch of a God who dishes out hellfire to the guilty.

On the surface it is an exquisite examination of bureaucracy and bourgeoisie with a Law system so complex and far-reaching that even key members are unable to unravel it’s complicated clockwork. It’s all one can do to maintain sanity in the absurd reality of existence, but what is it worth? Are we trees in gale force winds fighting back with fists we do not possess? Is life the love of a cold, cruel former lover bating us on while only concerned with themselves? What use is logic in an illogical prison where the opinion of the masses reigns supreme? Franz Kafka’s The Trial is the world we all live in, unlocked through layers of allegory to expose the beast hidden from plain sight. Nothing speaks a more profound truth than a pristine metaphor…įunny, us, worming through the world ascribing meaning, logic and order to the dumb, blind forces of void. It is not necessary to accept everything as true, one must only accept it as necessary

Prosessen by Franz Kafka