Gothic Kafka & his Letters

, as a result of spontaneous chance, I fell in love with one of the most important writers of stories, Franz Kafka, particularly with the tone, the voice, and the sound of the letters he sent to his beloved Milena. This collection of letters-turned-literary work is called 'Letters to Milena' and is about Kafka's longing for lasting intimacy with just one woman—Milena Jesenská.  

He professed to her the following: 

“Dear Milena, if a million loved you, I am one of them, and if one loved you, it was me, if no one loved you then know that I am dead."

Among the women who intersected with Kafka's life, Milena Jesenská stands out as a unique figure because of her distinction as a writer. She was a pretty woman who dressed elegantly and who transmitted a strength of character at the same time. 

Her virtues did not go unnoticed by gentlemen, and her genuine passion for literature, particularly the works of Hamsun, Dostoevsky, and Tolstoy, not only attested to her status as a writer but also facilitated the cultivation of her identity and values at a remarkably young age.

However, underneath her intelligence and flourishing mind, Milena was deeply wounded and withdrawn. She bore the weight of profound guilt, which manifested in self-blame for her personal inadequacies. 

Who could have understood her feelings better than Kafka, whose various conflicts tormented him as long as he lived? 

Tortured with his own fear and self-loathing, Kafka wrote to Milena:

"This afternoon I couldn't get out of bed, not because I was too tired but because I was too "heavy" - again and again that word, it's the only one that fits me, do you understand this at all? It's something like the "heaviness" of a ship which has lost its rudder and which says to the waves: "I'm too heavy for myself and for you too light".

"In their entirety as well as in almost every line, your letters are the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me."

A very curious thing is that Kafka met Milena only twice and loved her with a painful tenderness. Their initial encounter occurred at a literary gathering in Prague, during which Kafka was immediately drawn to Milena's wit and intelligence. 

They came to each other as if guided by stars. 

As they exchanged letters, their connection deepened, and Kafka found himself entranced by her thoughts and presence. Milena left him with the sweet aftertaste of a homecoming. He missed her, and she was missing from him. He said, 

"I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly." 

"I want, in fact, more of you. In my mind, I am dressing you with light, wrapping you up in blankets of complete acceptance, and then giving myself to you. I long for you; I who usually long without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you.”

"Nothing has ever moved me as deeply as that little glimpse into his heart. He was infinitely noble, but he made a secret of it as if he were ashamed of being in any way superior to others. "

However, others argued that Milena was filled with contradictions and was unwilling to leave her husband, thus creating an impassable barrier. Regardless of the circumstances, Kafka's work is a testament to the "alchemical process" that sometimes forms between two people mysteriously united by some kindred association of the spirit in them.

At this point in the story, dear reader, I would love to unfold a question for you. 

I have many questions, but they all lead to a single one: How do you, with your own private and secretive identities, perceive Kafka, the enigmatic figure whose essence permeates this page?

In private and entre nous: whenever Kafka is mentioned, my mind conjures an image of a gothic, mysterious, and slightly neglected cemetery where the overgrown grass whispers with such beautiful pianissimo, and the stone angels speak with secrets untold. Here and there and everywhere, discolored gravestones leaned together like old friends, creating an atmosphere of quiet companionship.

Of course, this is only a metaphor for a place where ghostly existential creatures dance and whisper secrets in a language only Kafka could understand. He was known to write late at night, and in these nocturnal hours, one only talks to ghosts and memories. 

Thanks to this imaginative correlation my mind drew between Kafka and cemeteries, I became enamored with these mystical spaces—not because of doom and gloom but because of a profound appreciation for the stories they hold—the forgotten tales of the past.

But more impressive than anything else about Kafka  — to me, anyway — is his love for Milena and how 'other worldly' love cannot always be explained by worldly circumstances. Sometimes, love seems to follow a celestial design: so many lives, so many pairs of eyes, and so many examples that come to mind.

Take, for instance, King David; he was predestined to love Bathsheba. Then there's Dante, who was struck by a revelation: the revelation of Beatrice's blessedness.

Even the philosopher Soren Kierkegaard looked everywhere, in the face of every girl, the features of Regina. Max Ernst stormed into Leonora Carrington's life like a hurricane, their inner worlds resonating in the same key. Veronika Polonskaya was Vladimir Mayakovsky's poetry material, a knife he turned inside himself.

And who could forget the bond depicted in The Pictures of Dorian Grey? Basil adored Dorian madly, extravagantly, absurdly. And Virginia Woolf found scattered parts of her soul in Vita. 

Reflecting on these relationships, I can't help but feel that you, too, dear reader, must have felt the same irresistible love, longing, and nearness for someone in your life. 

Maybe, just maybe, the interplay of blessings and curses inherent in these connections ultimately renders life's impermanence so achingly beautiful. Alain Resnais so purely expressed this sentiment in his 1959 film Hiroshima Mon Amour. 

He said: "Sometimes lovers leave, and love stays. At other times, love leaves, and lovers stay." To this, I would like to add gracefully, with courtesy, the notion that there are also times when lovers stay, and love remains. What do you think?

Reference 

This story is inspired by Franz Kafka's book,      

 'Briefe an Milena', written in 1952 

'Letters to Milena' (translation).