Latest news with #Kafkaesque

TimesLIVE
2 days ago
- Politics
- TimesLIVE
Our president, a hapless patsy in Oval Office nightmare scripted by Kafka
That melodrama at the White House was such a watershed — or a biggie, as Donald Trump would say — it will take years before we can clean up the stench and debris it left behind. Any thought of the dust settling soon is pie in the sky. It's a surreal moment, a Kafkaesque nightmare, that is bound to have an enervating impact on South Africa's foreign relations — a prism through which others will choose to see us. And it will, I fear, leave a bitter taste in many a mouth here at home. ..


India.com
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- India.com
6 Best Works of Franz Kafka: Stories That Changed Modern Literature
photoDetails english 2908398 Franz Kafka, is renowned for his exploration of themes like alienation, existential anxiety, and the absurdity of bureaucracy. His distinct, surreal style often called "Kafkaesque" is evident in works such as The Metamorphosis, The Trial, The Castle, and In the Penal Colony. Scroll to read more about him. Updated:May 30, 2025, 03:23 PM IST About Kafka 1 / 7 Franz Kafka was born on 3rd July, 1833 in Prague, Czechia. His work explores themes of alienation, existential dread, and oppressive bureaucracy. Kafka's writing style is marked by dark humor, and nightmarish scenarios, often referred to as "Kafkaesque'. The Metamorphosis 2 / 7 This iconic novel was published in 1915, The story shows the tension between individual identity and societal roles. The protagonist's emotional journey highlights the cruelty of conditional love and the deep human need for understanding. The Castle 3 / 7 This novel was published in 1926 in an unfinished book, The novel delves into themes of bureaucracy, alienation, and the search for meaning. Kafka portrays a confusing, indifferent system that frustrates K's, the protagonist's every effort. In The Penal Colony 4 / 7 Published in 1919, this short story examines themes of justice, punishment, and blind adherence to tradition. Kafka's storytelling triggers discomfort and contemplation, using stark imagery and ethical ambiguity to challenge the reader's sense of fairness and authority. The Trial 5 / 7 This amazing novel was published in 1925. The book explores existential anxiety, powerlessness, and the human longing for clarity and justice. The protagonist, Josef K., is arrested and prosecuted by a mysterious and inaccessible legal system. The charges against him are never revealed. Letters to Milena 6 / 7 These deeply personal letters offer a rare glimpse into Kafka's emotional world. Addressed to Milena Jesenská, his beloved, they reveal themes of longing, vulnerability, love, and spiritual connection and the fact that despite their intimacy, Kafka and Milena never lived together which makes these letters more intimate. The Hunger Artist 7 / 7 Published in 1922, is a short story that follows a professional artist who performs public fasting as an art form. Over time, audiences lose interest in his act, and he is forgotten by his audience. The story explores themes of isolation, misunderstood artistry, and existential longing.


New Statesman
21-05-2025
- Politics
- New Statesman
Dickens's Britain is still with us
Photo by Chronicle / Alamy The New Statesman staff are sometimes drawn to the windows of our first-floor office in Hatton Garden by events unfolding outside: a purple Lamborghini pulling up to the jeweller's next door, a music video being filmed on phones in the middle of the road, groups of men striking deals or squaring up to each other while security guards coolly observe. I'm always aware, though, that what we're looking at are Dickens's streets. Here are the ghosts of Victorian inequality: slumlands full of crime and punishment. A few doors down is the magistrates' court where Oliver Twist is brought and accused of picking pockets; a couple of streets east is the 'wretched place' where Fagin has his den, and the 'low public-house, in the filthiest part of Little Saffron Hill' frequented by Bill Sikes. Poverty in Britain is regularly described as Victorian or Dickensian – it has become unthinking shorthand, in the way state bureaucracy is reliably Kafkaesque and tech innovations are Orwellian. And yet, the comparison feels increasingly less hyperbolic. Revisiting A Christmas Carol last December – yes, all right, the Muppets version, but it's a family tradition, and besides the screenplay is remarkably faithful – it seemed to me that Dickens's world and our own seem to be drawing closer. The financial precariousness of the Cratchits could be described as 'in-work poverty': Bob's wages as Ebenezer Scrooge's clerk are barely sufficient to keep his family afloat. Today 72 per cent of children in poverty live in a household where someone is in work. The benefits-slashing New Poor Law of 1834 – detested by Dickens – was informed by a Malthusian approach to what Scrooge calls the 'surplus population': generous hand-outs, it was felt, would only encourage working-class families to have more children. It's hard not to hear an echo of such thinking in the Conservatives' two-child benefit cap, so far upheld by Labour: an immoral policy that punishes children from birth. And yes, that would include Tiny Tim. Three in ten children in the UK today are living below the poverty line, an appalling statistic that is at the heart of this special issue of the New Statesman guest edited by Gordon Brown. Dickens's work still speaks to us because of his genius, but his Britain should feel like history. It's to our shame that it does not. Dickens is well read in today's schools: that sounds like something to celebrate, part of the legacy of Michael Gove's education reforms, which we seem to have collectively decided were a Very Good Thing. But speaking to English teachers while looking around secondary schools for my daughter, I was struck by how narrow the curriculum has become. The tables were heaving with copies of A Christmas Carol, Macbeth and An Inspector Calls but contemporary fiction was practically non-existent. When exam boards add more adventurous and modern texts, schools – without the funds to buy new books, or the time to create new teaching resources – tend to stick to what they know. Given the golden age of writing for children and young adults we have been living through in the last 30 years – from Philip Pullman to Malorie Blackman, Katherine Rundell to Alex Wheatle – this is profoundly depressing. The number of students taking English literature at university is falling rapidly, as is the proportion of school pupils who say they read for pleasure. Our system is prioritising exam proficiency and the dubious concept of 'cultural capital' above a love of reading. I would like to say that Dickens, whose concerns were contemporary and whose instincts were unfailingly popular, would not approve – but actually I expect any arrangement that kept him in the bestseller lists would have suited him fine. This is my last issue of the New Statesman before leaving for pastures new: Tom McTague, the new editor-in-chief, launches his first edition on 13 June. I have been acting editor for the past five months, but part of the team for 11 years. Throughout, I have tried to be an evangelist for the back half of the magazine: the writing on books, culture and the 'rest of life'. There is a fallacy (not helped by our education system) that the arts are 'soft'. They are, of course, nothing of the sort: even when not overtly political, art is a lens that brings the political world into focus. It also makes us better humans. The novelist Eimear McBride describes her theatre training as teaching her to employ 'a kind of radical empathy'. That is what good art can do (just ask Dickens) – and it is something our politics is in desperate need of. In my time at the NS my colleagues and I have worked with guest editors including Grayson Perry (who scrawled: 'Cars and watches: not messy like feelings!' on his men's-mag parody cover), Michael Sheen (whose Covid-era catch-up calls included revelations about Tony Blair's Union Jack boxer shorts) and Greta Thunberg (who joined our first video call while striding through Stockholm pushing a broken bike). Gordon Brown (whose moral conviction and preacher's-son past is evident in every interaction) is the only person to have guest edited twice: we collaborated on an issue in June 2016 titled 'Britain in Europe', just before Britain decided Europe was where it didn't want to be. We may have lost that argument but we must not lose this one. On child poverty the case is as clear as the stakes are high. Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month Subscribe [See also: The catastrophe in Gaza] Related


Scotsman
19-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Scotsman
Kylie, Glasgow review: 'it's the chemistry'
Sign up to our Arts and Culture newsletter, get the latest news and reviews from our specialist arts writers Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... The redoubtable Kylie Minogue opened the UK leg of her latest Tension tour in Glasgow suspended inside a diamond lighting effect. It's the least her fans expect from the queen of pop theatre. The stats are this: two hours, 31 songs, seven costume changes/adaptions and somewhat less spectacle than her blockbusting tours of the Noughties. But the spirit is far more central to the Kylie experience and she brought her usual empathy and enthusiasm to the production, literally clapping with glee at the reaction from the capacity crowd. Kylie Minogue PIC:Her ability to swirl through such a wham-bam setlist in spiked heels is all the more impressive as she nudges 40 years in showbusiness but it's the interpersonal chemistry that gives a Kylie show its signature humanity. Yes, the outfits are flashy, not least the electric blue PVC number with which she rubbed against her Kafkaesque masked dancers, but once again it was the crowd engagement which provided the simple thrills. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Processing to a small stage in the midst of the arena, she rattled through some audience requests before designating a delighted fan as her wild rose. Forget the confetti showers and laser lighting – the reaction of ringside Ross to the simple gift of a rose was a priceless moment.


The Hindu
08-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
Phaneendra Nath Chaturvedi and a Metamorphosis in Banaras
Change is inevitable, and more often than not, unpredictable and unconforming. It is the only thing that can challenge the status quo, and enable transformation. In his latest exhibit titled Metamorphosis, Phaneendra Nath Chaturvedi, 44, holds on to this idea of change and celebrates it through 59 pieces of carefully composed artworks. 'For the last 25 years, my art has explored themes of self, duality, and transformation,' he says. 'As an artist, I've always been drawn to the blurry line between human and non-human, real and unreal, natural and artificial. These tensions show up in my human-like figures — creatures stuck between species, genders, eras, and feelings.' With his childhood and formative years spent in Banaras, Chaturvedi's body of work heavily draws inspiration from the old city of temples. A place that in its capacity of life and death, in everyday moments of rituals, symbols, and myths, has shaped his artistic bearing. 'Varanasi does not exist on a map; it breathes, decays, regenerates, and transcends. It is a living paradox — timeless and contemporary, sacred and nonreligious, private and harrowing. These contradictions have definitely affected me. The images that made up daily life in Varanasi were monkeys swaying on crumbling balconies, the fragrance of marigolds, chanting of mantras, smoke overhead as funeral pyres were lit. All of these negated the temporal and metaphysical, and my early exposure taught me to look beyond the surface of things, to see beauty in decay, and to imagine story in silence. That intuition still informs how I create compositional landscapes and characters.' Speaking through the butterfly Through paper, wood, stainless steel, fibreglass and larger-than-life canvasses, Metamorphosis explores how we handle inner shifts in a world that's always changing. It's like a picture diary showing perseverance, self-reflection, and personal growth. A stand-out symbol in Chaturvedi's works is the butterfly, an omnipresent element that serves as a signifier and a tenuously-balanced witness of transformation. It speaks a great deal about several themes the visual artist likes to work with: fleetingness, renewal, beauty born of struggle, and the fragile interplay between vulnerability and strength. 'In many cultures, butterflies are seen as the souls, messengers, or metonymic symbols for transcendence. For me, they have become a metaphor for the human condition. When I portray butterflies in stainless steel sculptures, their iridescence acts as a metaphor for fragility and resilience [against] the artificiality of the industrialised world. And in my paper works, they appear in ambiguous situations, serving as witnesses to change.' No Kafkaesque inspiration At a time when the art world is under a lot of scrutiny, because of the Anita Dube-Aamir Aziz controversy — involving the usage of the latter's poem without due credit or consent — Chaturvedi's exhibit appears closely reminiscent of Prague-born German Franz Kafka's seminal novella in both name and nature. 'If my work has anything in common with Kafka's ideas, it's by chance, not on purpose,' he shares. 'My art comes from a whole different background, rooted in my own life story. So, while Kafka wrestles with alienation, absurdity, and psychological transformation in the context of Europe, I engage in similar ruminations through the lens of Banaras, and the mythological, ritualised and everyday life in India.' Metamorphosis, curated by Sanya Malik, is on view till today at Bikaner House, and till May 30 at the Black Cube Gallery in Hauz Khas. The independent writer is Delhi-based.