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Kafka and Mahler: A missed harmony

Published: 14 Feb. 2025, 00:01

Na Sung-in

The author is a music critic and the director of the classic music brand Poongwoldang.

On Sep. 19, 1908, the world premiere of Mahler’s "Symphony No. 7" took place in Prague. Among the audience was a 26-year-old insurance salesman named Franz Kafka, who had been dragged there at the insistence of his friend Max Brod.

Brod would later make an indelible mark on world literature by defying Kafka’s dying wish to burn all his manuscripts. He was eager to hear what Kafka would say about Mahler’s symphony. The two shared commonalities — Jewish identity, Bohemian heritage and a keen eye for absurdity. Would Kafka find himself moved?

Franz Kafka.

But the meeting of minds was not to be. For the weary insurance salesman, Mahler’s music was simply too loud.

Though Kafka possessed acute hearing, he did not have an “ear for music.” Did the dense sonic landscape of the symphony prevent him from finding rest? Or perhaps it was the very setting of the concert hall that made him uneasy. Kafka later wrote, “Music surrounds me like a wall, trapping me inside. It does not move me when I am free, but only when I am confined.” The themes of isolation, entrapment and anxiety — hallmarks of Kafka’s literature — resonate in these words. Perhaps this explains why Kafka preferred the open-air marches of John Philip Sousa over the enclosed, intricate grandeur of Mahler’s symphonies.

In Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis” (1915), music also serves as a symbol of oppression. The protagonist, Gregor Samsa, longs for music. He encourages his sister’s violin playing and, even after transforming into an insect, continues to be deeply moved by it. Yet for his sister, music is fraught with anxiety and desperation; her clumsy violin playing is a last-ditch attempt to win the favor of indifferent guests.

One wonders — what if Kafka had been a little less tired that night? Mahler’s "Symphony No. 7," after all, contains a beautiful "Nachtmusik," a serenade performed outdoors under the southern sky. But Kafka did not hear it. More than the gentle sounds of a guitar or mandolin, he yearned for silence.

We live in an era of exhaustion, where our ears are increasingly closed. If you could, what music would you play for Kafka?

Translated using generative AI and edited by Korea JoongAng Daily staff.