Abandoned Fragments: The Unedited Works of Franz Kafka 1897-1917 by Franz KafkaAbandoned Fragments: The Unedited Works of Franz Kafka 1897-1917 by Franz Kafka

Abandoned Fragments: The Unedited Works of Franz Kafka 1897-1917

byFranz KafkaTranslated byIna Pfitzner

Paperback | April 30, 2012

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This volume collects all the texts from Franz Kafka's literary remains that originated in the period up until Autumn 1917, with the exception of the two novels The Man Who Disappeared (Kafka's original title for Amerika) and The Trial, plus the material that passed into the published Diaries. These texts - short story drafts, aphorisms, dreams, dialogues, and other shards of recorded imagination - are presented here in strict adherence to Kafka's handwritten drafts - not only in the original form of the text, but also in their raw, handwritten arrangements. Each piece is preserved in its original context, including the various different first attempts that indicate the way towards a work in progress. Whatever stands together in Kafka's handwritten drafts, remains together in this edition.These ABANDONED FRAGMENTS are presented together in English for the very first time, providing a unique resource which will prove indispensable to Kafka scholars, and essential for the general reader of classic literature.
Title:Abandoned Fragments: The Unedited Works of Franz Kafka 1897-1917Format:PaperbackDimensions:240 pages, 8.5 × 5.5 × 0.75 inPublished:April 30, 2012Publisher:Sun Vision PressLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:098388420X

ISBN - 13:9780983884200

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Demise of the Fat ManThen everything was engulfed by speed and fell into the distance. The river water was sucked down a precipice, tried to hold back, teetered on the crumbling edge for a moment, but then rushed down in lumps and smoke.The fat man couldn't talk anymore but was forced to turn around and disappear in the deafening waterfall. I, who had experienced so much amusement, I stood on the riverbank and looked on. "What are our lungs supposed to do,” I shouted, shouted, "if they breathe quickly, they'll suffocate on themselves, on their inner toxins; if they breathe slowly, they'll suffocate from unbreathable air, from outraged things. But if they want to find their right speed, they'll drown during the search.”Then the banks of this river extended beyond measure, and yet I touched the iron of a tiny, distant signpost with the palm of my hand. I couldn't quite make sense of that. For I was short, almost shorter than usual, and a bush with white rosehips shaking very quickly towered over me. I saw it, for it was nearby just a moment ago.But nonetheless I was mistaken, for my arms were as large as the clouds of a steady rain, only they were more rushed. I don't know why they were trying to crush my poor head.It was so small, really, like an ant egg, only it was somewhat damaged, and therefore no longer entirely round. I performed some pleading turns, for the expression of my eyes might have gone unnoticed, that's how small they were. But my legs, but my impossible legs extended across the wooded mountains and shaded the rural valleys. They grew, they grew! They already protruded into the distance, which had no landscape anymore, their length for a long time already reached beyond my eyesight. But no, that's not it - I'm short, too, tentatively short - I'm rolling - I'm rolling - I'm an avalanche in the mountains! Please, passers-by, be so kind as to tell me how tall I am, measure these arms, these legs.