Nothing has meaning, everything has meaning: A review of Franz Kafka’s ‘The Trial’

There are nearly a dozen different English translations of “The Trial,” by Franz Kafka, each with different abridged entries and author’s margins to give context to their passages. There is one attribute common to all copies that is as striking as it is illusory to the reader – it doesn’t make sense. Published after Kafka’s death with pieces of the story fragmented and half finished, “The Trial” would be difficult for a reader regardless of plot. Yet, the plot has yet another difficulty. It is so abstract and surreal by its nature that the plot ceases to matter. 

The protagonist Mr. K. is startled by two strangers who walk into his bedroom and inform the man of his immediate arrest. He is taken aback and argues with the men, starting the book off with a nightmarish chaos of the man going through judicial trials, tribulations and bizarre rituals. There are mysterious interrogators, God-like unseen authority figures, peculiar accusations and dream-like dialogue. At no point does there seem to be a world outside of each unorganized conversation. The reader is in a trance throughout the pages wondering if Mr. K. will see his time with the intangible, ominous “Law.” The kicker, however, being that at no point is Mr. K. informed about his charges. He never finds out why he is arrested and yet the proceedings continue. 

“The doorkeeper perceives that the man is at the end of his strength and that his hearing is failing, so he bellows in his ear: No one but you could gain admittance through this door, since this door was intended only for you. I am now going to shut it.”

This surrealist story has a focal point around this notion of admittance to “The Law.” Readers can pick at the carcass of these pages, pulling out symbolism, historical idiosyncrasies – the entire lot of undergraduate analysis jargon. I would argue, however, that it means nothing. Not everything has to be assigned meaning. A doorway can be a doorway and nonsense can be just that. Just as he is assigned to be a figure of absurdism, Kafka’s work follows suit. 

“How are we to avoid those in office becoming deeply corrupt when everything is devoid of meaning?,” Kafka asks.  

I would personally refrain from reading “The Trial” in a classical academic sense. Regardless of how it is often taught or understood; I think it is more appropriate to read Kafka as comedy. It is satirical, funny, dark and ultimately nonsensical. Just as our dreams contort and twist reality into perversity, this book does as well. The comedy is deeply rooted in the values and expressions of absurdism. The serious is not of much concern and the small things are life and death. The comedy of the book runs like a bit you cannot completely get on the ins of. It is elusive, fleeting, nearly camp – all while maintaining a theme of uncomely human behavior that insists the exploitation of it for self-actualization humor. As Kafka writes,

“The right understanding of any matter and a misunderstanding of the same matter do not wholly exclude each other.”

There is something addictive about reading “The Trial.” Just when it feels too contemporary to continue, it opens up dialogue heart wrenchingly painful or equally hilarious. It toys with the reader who is left unable to hold onto the plot for balance, left to the devices of, seemingly, a mad man. In case the idea of reading “The Trial” is not appealing, Orson Welles made it into a terrific surrealist movie. In both the movie and the book, the last chapters/minutes encapsulate something particularly special that in modern day writing/movies is still never seen.

“You do not need to accept everything as true, you only have to accept it as necessary.”