Kafka's Trial is one of those books that are always present in cultural sphere and referenced ad nauseum. Despite never having read Kafka before I am quite sure I used the word 'Kafkaesque' on many occasions and maintained a semi-eloquent conversation about 'The Trial'.I could've probably done without ever reading it but recently I resolved to take my literary pursuits seriously and since books seem to be the only thing in this world I truly care for I might as well take it to another level.'The Trial' does not have any plot to speak of and character development is non-existent. There aren't actually any characters that take any human shape. There is no conflict or resolution and the only epiphany is the one you might or might not have at the end of it. Truth be told, 'The Trial' is nothing but an allegory.An allegory of what is up to you to decide. I think I interpret it on the most universal level and see The Trial as a symbol of human existence. We don't know why we are here, how it is going to end and even what the rules of the game are. Yet, we take this frustrating journey trying to make sense of it, comforted by little meaningless bogus victories that fool us into believing some progress has been made. We long ago learnt that the 'actual acquittal' is unattainable but we refuse to give up. This is how I see it. However, many literary critics and other smart people see it differently and that is their prerogative.There is, for example, a quite interesting theory that 'The Trial' was born as an inmediate result of the break-up of Kafka's engagement to Felice Bauer. Felice Bauer was, one might say, an uncomplicated woman. She was Kafka's muse and his anchor in the reality. Kafka needed her to write and to stay sane. What Felice got out of the affair is unclear as her letters didn't survive. No doubt, it must have been frustrating as Kafka's idea of love was definitely not a healthy one. Their relationship consituted mostly of letters and occasional meetings which made Kafka the happiest just after they were over. He did finally propose to Felice but emphasized he would be a rather rubbish husband as he was simply not cut out for family life. And so it went on. If anyone felt like they were on an endless, incomprehensible trial, it was, in my opinion, Felice. But, of course, Franz maintains it was him - because finally Felice's friends and relatives decided to put an end to it, called Kafka in, forced him to knock it off and leave the poor girl alone. That meeting/interrogation was his 'trial'.Now, I don't want to entertain this theory because if it is true, I would have to reduce the rating for 'Trial' to some 2-3 stars and put it on my 'brats' shelf I have for selfish, woe-is-me individuals acting like brats. I prefer to stick to the human-existence allegory which I find quite moving in its Weltschmertz way.If you are interested in further reading on the subject, check John Banville's article about Kafka's Trial and his affair with Fraulein Bauer here:http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/...You can also find fictionalised (by Francine Prose) letter from Felice Bauer to Kafka in this collection of invented love letters : Four Letter Word: Invented Correspondence from the Edge of Modern Romance. The letter is written by Felice long after Kafka's death and basically asserts that Kafka was a dick.

Reading Franz Kafka's The Trial is a frustrating experience, but that's at least partially the point. Our protagonist, Josef K is arrested, but neither he nor the reader know why he's been arrested. The remaining narrative is a sort of judgment on all the decisions he's made. Although he is 'free' for most of the novel, K's trial consumes all his time, and he is locked in a course of events over which he has little or no control. How are we to judge K's trial? Indeed, K's entire ordeal is impossible to come to grips with. The process of the trial playing out even if it is not outwardly 'in session' and K's own processing of events, forces us to recognize that our decisions are consequential. Even decisions that don't seem significant. This is especially apparent at the end of the novel (which brings us to a sort of tragic anticlimactic climax). It's difficult to determine if such an end is inevitable, or, for that matter, whether K's fate is for him alone or for all of us.

Josef K. (just his initial is revealed), a banker in the beautiful city of Prague, now the capital of the Czech Republic, during the last days of the crumbling Austro- Hungarian Empire, before World War 1, such a man at the young age of thirty, to be in charge of a large bank's finances, yet he lives in a boarding house of Frau Grabach, why a successful person does, is a mystery. Maybe he likes the attractive women there, especially Fraulein Burstner, Josef is a bit of a wolf, then out of the sky, two men come to his room and arrest him, the arrogant guards even eat his breakfast, and try to take his good clothes too, the charge, they don't say or know or care! K. is shocked to the bone, but permitted to continue his ordinary work routine, a Twilight Zonish situation develops, K. ordered to see an examining magistrate and goes to an old apartment building, in a poor, shabby suburb of the city, finally after asking directions, Josef arrives on the fifth floor, late and finding the filthy hall full of people of various kinds, all of them look at Josef, as the main attraction there . The uncaring judge thinks he's a house painter, when K. informs him that he's the chief financial officer of a bank, the crowd has a big, long laugh, how can Josef take his trial seriously? The angry magistrate is powerless to control the boisterous gathering, and after many more such meetings , in rooms with dirty air, which makes the defendant quite sick, Josef in one place, is carried out of the building, to get fresh air, to resuscitate him. Days and weeks pass, Uncle Karl, from the country visits K. the concerned uncle, has heard of his nephew's troubles, and takes him to an old lawyer friend, Dr. Huld, the lawyer has lots of contacts but Huld is a very sick, old man, K. doesn't trust him either or anybody else. Other men he sees for aid, a painter, merchant, manufacturer and a priest, as his final hope, but nothing can get him off, his unknown perilous path, his darkness increases steadily. A nightmarish life hits hard the accused , and still no one tells him what crime was committed! The helpless banker feels the power of the State's Bureaucracy and his work at the bank suffers, as a consequence, substantially, it matter not that K. is innocent, no one asks him if he is guilty! Will this bad, horrendous dream ever end? The limited rights that any man has against an omniscient , totalitarian government, is shown in this remarkable novel.