I’m writing this book review on a coach bus en route from Prague to Heidelberg, Germany. It’s scheduled to be a six-hour trip so I have plenty of activities to keep myself entertained—although admittedly my favourite thing to do is probably just staring out the window in silence. However, I just finished reading A Country Doctor by Franz Kafka and thought I may as well just write this review as I ride through the Czech countryside.

I knew little about Kafka other than a vague understanding of the term Kafkaesque prior to this visit to Prague. While touring the castle grounds (which included the magnificent St. Vitus cathedral, the Old Royal Palace and St. George’s Basilica), I walked along the famed Golden Lane and happened upon the small house in which Kafka wrote most of the short stories included in A Country Doctor between 1916-17.

The house, the first floor of which is now a shop that sells many of Kafka’s works in a variety of languages, was narrow and cramped. I perused a few titles before the cash register attendant pointed out A Country Doctor as having been written in the house in which I was standing. Always one to be pulled in by serendipity, I immediately bought the book, happy to have found connection & meaning at that particular location in that exact moment.

Once the outskirts of the Austrian-Hungarian imperial palace, this narrow street of tiny cottages used to serve as the residences of a cross-section of the Prague public. Palace guards, known for their striking red coats were allowed to live in the rooms free of charge; a free-spirited alchemist gave potions and readings to the residents; a wealthy lawyer found respite with his four children; and poets and authors rented rooms in search of a quiet place to write, as was the case for Kafka.

In no.22 Golden Lane, actually rented by Franz’s sister Ottla and lent to him for his writing purposes, the author spent the better part of two interwar years working on a series of unrelated short stories that reflected his understanding of, and in many cases lack of appreciation for, the mysteries of the human condition. Known neither to be a nihilist nor an existentialist, Kafka’s short stories in A Country Doctor briefly explore what it means to be human through tales that reflect the good, the bad, the ugly and the indifferent natures of his fictional, yet realistic characters.

I enjoyed reading the collection of stories, many of which made me think critically about some personal connection I had with a character or prompted me to at least put myself in the narrator’s shoes for a moment. His writing did not attract me to adapt a Kafkaesque perception of life, but it did intrigue me enough to be interested in reading some of his other titles. There were few “feel good” moments among the narratives, but I appreciated the thinking that was prompted by reading the stories. To some extent, I was reminded of Tom Hanks’ book I read a few years ago. Perhaps he was influenced by Kafka.

Personally, I choose to believe that humans are inherently good and are meant for good—a stance that I doubt Kafka would agree with, but I’m guessing would likely respect. I think we would both agree that there are many aspects of the human condition that make no sense, but that there is a beauty to those mysterious in which we can appreciate with both trepidation and reverence.

This book may be for you if you also like: Prague; Czech Republic; Bohemian stories and/or authors; Kafka’s other works; short stories; fiction; somber reflections on humanity; doctors; monkeys; family dynamics.

SDG