Reading thoughts: Letters to Milena

I finished Letters to Milena last night. Wow! What a book. Honestly it feels wrong to rate it and I wouldn't even know how to, because, well, it's not a story, it's a collection of letters, personal and intimate... but strangely enough I enjoyed these letters more than I enjoyed some of his short stories (with some exceptions, of course).

First thing that struck me is how much I could see myself in Kafka and the things he says to Milena. Like worrying about misinterpreting her, both of them being anxious about their relationship, scolding each other about falling ill. Things I do with my friends. These letters were written a hundred years ago and yet there are some things about friendship and connection that stay permanent, and lots of things were a reminder of that. And the mundanity of some of the letters only adds to that, like when he talks about having trouble sleeping or when talking about a daily life or train logistics.

Kafka was a lot more emotive in these letters than his stories, which is probably another reason I enjoyed reading it. You can very clearly feel all the emotions he felt in his words and messages. And you can also very much tell that this affair was not really a healthy one, it was tumultuous and bad for him (I'd wager it was bad for Milena, too), but it was nevertheless something he was addicted to. It seems that he wanted love, her love, so badly, but he was also scared of it. The lengthy descriptions of his 'fear' and what I assume was his struggle with both physical and mental health were painful, as well.

Of course the thing this book is most known for are its overwhelmingly romantic quotes and in that it does not disappoint at all. There were several times where I read something and I just had to stop a second and think about the love it conveyed. Regardless of whether their relationship was ultimately "good" or "bad" (if such a categorization even exists), you can't doubt at all that he felt very passionately about her.

You see, I have bad luck with beggars, but I hereby declare myself willing to present my entire past and future fortune—in the smallest Viennese banknotes, one by one—to a beggarwoman there in front of the opera, under the condition that you are standing next to me and I may feel you close to me.

There were times where I was a little annoyed with Kafka, but it didn't really detract from my enjoyment. It was fun to reflect on how even great authors we idolize from a century ago could also have flaws and be human in a rather dull way. And I also wish we got to see some of Milena's letters (I know they were destroyed), though there is some charm to only seeing one side.

It was a nice, calm read, very tender. Another book I would recommend to people who are all about yearning. Going off my enjoyment of it I would say it gets a 9/10, simply because some of these quotes affected me so deeply. Kafka had such a beautiful way of expressing his own emotions, painful or otherwise.

And it turns out we really do keep writing the same thing. I ask whether you're sick and then you write about it, I want to die and then you do, I want stamps and then you want stamps, sometimes I want to cry on your shoulder like a little boy and then you want to cry on mine like a little girl. And sometimes and ten times and a thousand times and always I want to be with you and you are saying the same thing. Enough, enough.

And there's still no letter about what the doctor said, you slowpoke, you bad letter-writer, you wicked one, you lovely one, you—well, now what? Nothing—to rest in your lap, still.