Marija Peričić, The Lost Pages, Allen & Unwin, 2017.
It is 1908, and Max Brod is the rising star of Prague's literary world. But when a rival appears on the scene, Max discovers how quickly he can lose everything he has worked so hard to attain. The Lost Pages is a richly reimagined story of Max Brod's life filtered through his relationship with Franz Kafka. In this inspired novel of friendship, fraud, madness and betrayal, Marija Pericic writes vividly and compellingly of an extraordinary literary rivalry.
The Lost Pages is the outstanding and breath-taking winner of The Australian/Vogel's Literary Award - Australia's most prestigious prize for an unpublished manuscript.
'To frame The Lost Pages as being about Brod is clever and interesting. The Kafka we meet here is almost the opposite of the one we have come to expect.' - Stephen Romei
"... cleverly structured and an intriguing concept." —Jenny Barry
"From the very beginning, the strain between Kafka and Brod is hugely entertaining. Brod is anti-social and prefers his own company, just like the best of Kafka's characters." —Rohan Wilson
Reiner Stach, in Is That Kafka?: 99 Finds, a book he wrote in the margins of his magnificent three-volume Kafka biography, has collated the many ways in which encrusted perceptions of the writer as the martyr-neurotic scribbling alone at night in a preternatural maelstrom are subverted by his actual interests and habits.
But Australian novelist Marija Pericic, in her Vogel award-winning debut novel, The Lost Pages, is not just interested in upending the Kafka cliches with facts. Instead she is at play in her own imagination, taking some of the components Stach has documented, and others she has found in her own research, and exaggerating them to manufacture what she has called "my own Max, my own Kafka".
This creative approach to the historical material is both disorienting and refreshing. It results in what amounts to a hyperinverted fictional Max Brod memoir of the relationship between Brod and Kafka, a relationship that of course has intrinsic traction for the Kafka-loving reader, primarily because of Brod's famous real-life decision to refuse Kafka's dying request to burn all his writings.The ethics of that decision have been debated endlessly, as could be the licence Pericic has taken here with what were once actual flesh and blood lives. A question does arise as to why Pericic could not have further fictionalised her novel so that it did not purport to be about these two real men. Would it have been sufficient, for instance, for the novel to be about two young writers of early 20th-century Prague that we have never heard of?
But Australian novelist Marija Pericic, in her Vogel award-winning debut novel, The Lost Pages, is not just interested in upending the Kafka cliches with facts. Instead she is at play in her own imagination, taking some of the components Stach has documented, and others she has found in her own research, and exaggerating them to manufacture what she has called "my own Max, my own Kafka".
This creative approach to the historical material is both disorienting and refreshing. It results in what amounts to a hyperinverted fictional Max Brod memoir of the relationship between Brod and Kafka, a relationship that of course has intrinsic traction for the Kafka-loving reader, primarily because of Brod's famous real-life decision to refuse Kafka's dying request to burn all his writings.
The answer to that question though lies in the novel's chief strength. Because of its representation of Kafka and Brod, one can't read The Lost Pages without reverting to a constant matching process between the historical reality as we've come to understand it and Pericic's playing with the cliches and mirrors.
As we follow "her Max" through his extreme self-loathing and repugnant jealousy of Kafka, concepts of reality and imagination become so conflated that many intriguing questions arise. We can't help but wonder, for instance, given the narcissistic suffering Brod experiences in the novel, whether Pericic isn't enacting some kind of Dantean contrapasso on him for his real life, and quasi-evangelical, betrayal of Kafka's wishes.
As we follow "her Max" through his extreme self-loathing and repugnant jealousy of Kafka, concepts of reality and imagination become so conflated that many intriguing questions arise. We can't help but wonder, for instance, given the narcissistic suffering Brod experiences in the novel, whether Pericic isn't enacting some kind of Dantean contrapasso on him for his real life, and quasi-evangelical, betrayal of Kafka's wishes.
The fact that the book initiates such intense speculations says a lot for Pericic's technique. In style The Lost Pages is an efficiently constructed narrative built out of rather plain sentences but the liberties it takes with literary biography make it far from unassuming.
Through its reordering of what we think we know about these figures the novel becomes molten, destabilising, and, therefore, at this ever-late hour of the Kafka industry, welcome. In effect it manipulates Kafka and Brod in the way a speculative graphic novel might. By moving well beyond the shores of historical truth it scrambles our preconceptions, managing to reanimate the subject with unforeseen inversions, queries, possibilities and dilemmas.
How plastic, for example, should the biographies of famous writers become in our hands? What on earth do we owe to the memory of the everyday lives they lived in the margins of their immortal creations, if anything at all? Is the novelist free to muck up in a way that historical scholars are not?
Whatever the answers to these questions, the irrepressible human cycle of story and mythology will go on. The important point here is that Pericic's Kafka and Brod are quite obviously metaphysical rather than historical entities. From allusive and distant ingredients she has fashioned a story that betrays as much about her own literary culture in 21st-century Melbourne as it does about a plodding hunchback and a brilliant health freak in fin de siecle Prague. Whole eras are traversed by the imagination of a talented writer as absorbed with the private complexities of literary success as with the ethics of a creative friendship.
The danger is that the remodelling of such famous literary figures can tilt towards the fetishistic, while the more profound kernel of our interest, the miraculous originality of Kafka's work, can get mislaid along the way. It should not be forgotten, therefore, that the questions about the nature of truth that Pericic's novel raises, as well as some of its weirdest and most compelling moments, are very much seeded in the slapstick loomings and excruciating geographies of the pages "the real Max Brod" retrieved.
Through its reordering of what we think we know about these figures the novel becomes molten, destabilising, and, therefore, at this ever-late hour of the Kafka industry, welcome. In effect it manipulates Kafka and Brod in the way a speculative graphic novel might. By moving well beyond the shores of historical truth it scrambles our preconceptions, managing to reanimate the subject with unforeseen inversions, queries, possibilities and dilemmas.
How plastic, for example, should the biographies of famous writers become in our hands? What on earth do we owe to the memory of the everyday lives they lived in the margins of their immortal creations, if anything at all? Is the novelist free to muck up in a way that historical scholars are not?
Whatever the answers to these questions, the irrepressible human cycle of story and mythology will go on. The important point here is that Pericic's Kafka and Brod are quite obviously metaphysical rather than historical entities. From allusive and distant ingredients she has fashioned a story that betrays as much about her own literary culture in 21st-century Melbourne as it does about a plodding hunchback and a brilliant health freak in fin de siecle Prague. Whole eras are traversed by the imagination of a talented writer as absorbed with the private complexities of literary success as with the ethics of a creative friendship.
The danger is that the remodelling of such famous literary figures can tilt towards the fetishistic, while the more profound kernel of our interest, the miraculous originality of Kafka's work, can get mislaid along the way. It should not be forgotten, therefore, that the questions about the nature of truth that Pericic's novel raises, as well as some of its weirdest and most compelling moments, are very much seeded in the slapstick loomings and excruciating geographies of the pages "the real Max Brod" retrieved.
Despite the background noise of the ever-expanding Kafkascape it's still there where the most uncanny and comical depictions of our search for recognition, justice, empathy and redemption, indisputably dwell. - Gregory Day
https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/books/the-lost-pages-review-marija-pericic-plays-with-the-life-of-franz-kafka-20170605-gwko7c.html
https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/books/the-lost-pages-review-marija-pericic-plays-with-the-life-of-franz-kafka-20170605-gwko7c.html
I went into The Lost Pages knowing little about Franz Kafka and even less about Max Brod. All I knew was that this was an award winning novel and shortlisted for another (the Readings Prize for New Australian Fiction). Then I opened it and was it had footnotes – swoon! Somehow my mind linked this to S. by J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst. The Lost Pages doesn’t have handwritten notes over the pages, but it has that sense of mystery and of a narrator on the edge.
The premise of the book is that a number of Max Brod’s papers have been found and scholars are piecing together his relationship with the much more famous Franz Kafka. This is his story of meeting Kafka for the first time and his increasing insecurity over Kafka’s writings. As the story opens, Brod is The Star of Prague’s literary world. He has one groupie (Uta) who follows him everywhere, but his sights are set on a more beautiful and mysterious woman. In 1908, his star is rising and women don’t seem to care that he’s not a perfect physical specimen. Enter Kafka. He’s someone who dares to doubt Brod, questioning his theory and what’s worse, one-upping him in talent. Brod is determined that Kafka shall never meet his publisher, nor should his works see the light of day. Kafka is about to steal everything Max desires – the fame, talent and woman. Max’s attempts to hide Kafka away from the word become increasingly harebrained until something snaps…
You may get more out of this story if you are knowledgeable about Kafka and Brod, but if you’re like me and know next to nothing about the pair, you will enjoy this story of desperate jealousy. Peričić weaves a deep, emotional tale that you can’t help but get tangled up in. The story has traits that everyone can relate to – that feeling of not being good enough to keep up with the next person, self-criticism and despair. Despite the strong feelings, it’s not a gloomy story. Rather it’s a tale of descent into madness, dramatic yet fragile. The emotion that comes from the pages is incredibly strong, as is the writing. I must admit to approaching this story initially with a bit of dread, not knowing how I would relate to this story. But don’t fear – Peričić’s writing is engaging and warm. Her creation of Max Brod’s mind is honest and bald – how could you not fall in love with someone so fragile and broken?
Kafka remains a shadowy enigma when told from Max’s point of view. To Max, Kafka is The Man. He has it all – wit, talent, beauty, the ability to entrance any woman and his own set of groupies. Kafka can do no wrong to the rest of the world. I loved this portrayal, it fit with what I thought I knew about him. The contrast between the two men is just perfect. As is the ending, which is wonderfully chaotic until it falls into place and I had an ‘aha!’ moment. So do give The Lost Pages a go – it’s a fantastic story, cleverly researched and masterfully told. - https://samstillreading.wordpress.com/2017/10/10/review-the-lost-pages-by-marija-pericic/
The premise of the book is that a number of Max Brod’s papers have been found and scholars are piecing together his relationship with the much more famous Franz Kafka. This is his story of meeting Kafka for the first time and his increasing insecurity over Kafka’s writings. As the story opens, Brod is The Star of Prague’s literary world. He has one groupie (Uta) who follows him everywhere, but his sights are set on a more beautiful and mysterious woman. In 1908, his star is rising and women don’t seem to care that he’s not a perfect physical specimen. Enter Kafka. He’s someone who dares to doubt Brod, questioning his theory and what’s worse, one-upping him in talent. Brod is determined that Kafka shall never meet his publisher, nor should his works see the light of day. Kafka is about to steal everything Max desires – the fame, talent and woman. Max’s attempts to hide Kafka away from the word become increasingly harebrained until something snaps…
You may get more out of this story if you are knowledgeable about Kafka and Brod, but if you’re like me and know next to nothing about the pair, you will enjoy this story of desperate jealousy. Peričić weaves a deep, emotional tale that you can’t help but get tangled up in. The story has traits that everyone can relate to – that feeling of not being good enough to keep up with the next person, self-criticism and despair. Despite the strong feelings, it’s not a gloomy story. Rather it’s a tale of descent into madness, dramatic yet fragile. The emotion that comes from the pages is incredibly strong, as is the writing. I must admit to approaching this story initially with a bit of dread, not knowing how I would relate to this story. But don’t fear – Peričić’s writing is engaging and warm. Her creation of Max Brod’s mind is honest and bald – how could you not fall in love with someone so fragile and broken?
Kafka remains a shadowy enigma when told from Max’s point of view. To Max, Kafka is The Man. He has it all – wit, talent, beauty, the ability to entrance any woman and his own set of groupies. Kafka can do no wrong to the rest of the world. I loved this portrayal, it fit with what I thought I knew about him. The contrast between the two men is just perfect. As is the ending, which is wonderfully chaotic until it falls into place and I had an ‘aha!’ moment. So do give The Lost Pages a go – it’s a fantastic story, cleverly researched and masterfully told. - https://samstillreading.wordpress.com/2017/10/10/review-the-lost-pages-by-marija-pericic/
While I do enjoy the sense of belonging that comes with reading novels that feature Australian life, I like the direction the Vogel Prize seems to have taken over the last year or so. Last year we had The Memory Artist by Katherine Brabon (see my review) and this year ventures into the wider world too with the award going to Marija Peričić’s novel The Lost Pages. Set in 1908 in what is now the Czech Republic, it’s a brave reimagining of the relationship between Franz Kafka and his literary editor Max Brod, and it develops an unstoppable momentum as the pages fly by towards an ending that I definitely did not foresee.Readers do not need to know anything at all about Kafka or his works. To the contrary, I would beseech them not to find out more about Brod and Kafka before reading the book. That’s because this novel is primarily a novel about a very strange relationship, exploring both the nature of literary celebrity as it was in the early 20th century in Europe, and also the psychological trauma of an intense but one-side rivalry between two notable authors. Read it on its own terms without going on a fact-hunt.
Jealousy and obsession are the twin themes of The Lost Pages as Brod the successful writer becomes aware of the exciting young author Kafka. The novel is framed as a memoir which purports to be from the (real-life) hoard of papers that Brod, after Kafka’s death, refused to consign to the flames as instructed. This conceit of the fictional memoir is buttressed by the structure: the novel is bookended by a foreword purporting to be from a scholar excited about the long-desired release of the papers, and an editor’s afterword. Scattered throughout the text there are duplicitous footnotes about the often deplorable condition of these papers.
CAUTION: MINOR SPOILERS
The Brod of these papers is deformed in mind and body. I liked the way that the truth about his misshapen body is revealed only after he has become an attractive man in the reader’s mind. He tells us that success has brought the attention of women, but he also eventually tells us about the enormous physical effort and his sartorial tricks that force his palsied body into a semblance of normality. But his confidence is shattered as he reads Kafka’s stories and he begins to believe that he himself is the model for the alienated characters in a surreal world. He is distraught when he reads Metamorphosis, the famous story about Gregor who wakes up one day to find that he has become a monstrous cockroach that arouses revulsion all around him.
His jealousy of his social and literary rival is exacerbated by the prevailing belief that he is Kafka’s great friend and has some power over the elusive new author. His publisher is, of course, desperate to sign the rising star. He blackmails Brod into luring Kafka, using Brod’s failure to meet his deadlines for his next book while his mind deteriorates under his twin obsessions, Kafka and the lovely but unattainable Anja.
So there is much to admire about this novel. Of note is the sensitive way Peričić writes about Brod’s deformity, especially the beautiful sequence where he escapes his mother’s over-protectiveness and teaches himself to swim by watching others do it.
anzlitlovers.com/2017/05/25/the-lost-pages-by-marija-pericic-2017-vogel-winner/
Jealousy and obsession are the twin themes of The Lost Pages as Brod the successful writer becomes aware of the exciting young author Kafka. The novel is framed as a memoir which purports to be from the (real-life) hoard of papers that Brod, after Kafka’s death, refused to consign to the flames as instructed. This conceit of the fictional memoir is buttressed by the structure: the novel is bookended by a foreword purporting to be from a scholar excited about the long-desired release of the papers, and an editor’s afterword. Scattered throughout the text there are duplicitous footnotes about the often deplorable condition of these papers.
CAUTION: MINOR SPOILERS
The Brod of these papers is deformed in mind and body. I liked the way that the truth about his misshapen body is revealed only after he has become an attractive man in the reader’s mind. He tells us that success has brought the attention of women, but he also eventually tells us about the enormous physical effort and his sartorial tricks that force his palsied body into a semblance of normality. But his confidence is shattered as he reads Kafka’s stories and he begins to believe that he himself is the model for the alienated characters in a surreal world. He is distraught when he reads Metamorphosis, the famous story about Gregor who wakes up one day to find that he has become a monstrous cockroach that arouses revulsion all around him.
His jealousy of his social and literary rival is exacerbated by the prevailing belief that he is Kafka’s great friend and has some power over the elusive new author. His publisher is, of course, desperate to sign the rising star. He blackmails Brod into luring Kafka, using Brod’s failure to meet his deadlines for his next book while his mind deteriorates under his twin obsessions, Kafka and the lovely but unattainable Anja.
So there is much to admire about this novel. Of note is the sensitive way Peričić writes about Brod’s deformity, especially the beautiful sequence where he escapes his mother’s over-protectiveness and teaches himself to swim by watching others do it.
I had no idea what to do with my legs. All I could see of the swimmers’ legs was a fizzing wake that seemed to propel them forward. My legs were the weakest part of me. At first, when I tried to kick off from the riverbed they would drift behind me like a heavy train, floating for a short while but then slowly sinking down to the sandy bottom again. I experimented with different movements: I tried rotating my legs as though on a bicycle, in time with my arms, or rotating my feet in tiny circles. It was extremely difficult for me to control my right leg, which was only a soft spongy thing, lacking any muscle. Eventually I hit upon the notion of kicking my legs up and down, and I practised this motion first holding onto the tree trunk, which had become like a friend to me, its knots and footholds familiar and reassuring. Over the weeks of that summer I slowly learned to propel myself along.A worthy winner of the Vogel! - Lisa Hill
Soon I could even swim a few strokes underwater, my belly gliding close above the riverbed. I came up laughing; it was like flying, and for the first time in my life I did not feel restricted in space. I floated and rolled around in the river’s grip, and my limbs, glowing white through the dark water, no longer seemed to be the objects of pity. (p. 190)
anzlitlovers.com/2017/05/25/the-lost-pages-by-marija-pericic-2017-vogel-winner/
The Lost Pages is an exploration of the complicated relationship between Franz Kafka, author of novels such as The Metamorphosis and The Trial, and his literary executor, Max Brod. Their friendship is an unusual one, and the book examines Brod’s sense of self in relation to Kafka where in early twentieth century Bohemia, he is charged with both taking care of Kafka, and securing his literary talent and manuscripts within the literary worlds of Prague and Germany.
Marija Peričić’s inspiration for the novel came from an article in The New York Times outlining a court squabble between two elderly women over Kafka’s papers and manuscripts they had inherited. Brod, as Kafka’s executor, published Kafka’s manuscripts against his wishes following his death in 1924.
In The Lost Pages, Max struggles with the conflict of his role as literary executor, his sense of self and who Kafka is, and the threat that Kafka poses as a new rising literary star in Prague. Kafka’s success and life is seen through the lens of Brod’s jealousy and feelings of isolation from the people he cares about. The impact this has in fracturing Brod’s mind allows Peričić to explore the points at which Kafka and Brod seem to meld together, interrogating Brod’s role in completing and publishing Kafka’s best known works.
The Lost Pages is an interesting novel, one that uses history, literary circles and personalities to shed new light on the world of Kafka and his writing, showing a different side to the Kafka readers may know from his published works. - Ashleigh Meikle
Marija Peričić’s inspiration for the novel came from an article in The New York Times outlining a court squabble between two elderly women over Kafka’s papers and manuscripts they had inherited. Brod, as Kafka’s executor, published Kafka’s manuscripts against his wishes following his death in 1924.
In The Lost Pages, Max struggles with the conflict of his role as literary executor, his sense of self and who Kafka is, and the threat that Kafka poses as a new rising literary star in Prague. Kafka’s success and life is seen through the lens of Brod’s jealousy and feelings of isolation from the people he cares about. The impact this has in fracturing Brod’s mind allows Peričić to explore the points at which Kafka and Brod seem to meld together, interrogating Brod’s role in completing and publishing Kafka’s best known works.
The Lost Pages is an interesting novel, one that uses history, literary circles and personalities to shed new light on the world of Kafka and his writing, showing a different side to the Kafka readers may know from his published works. - Ashleigh Meikle
The Lost Pages is the 2017 winner of the prestigious Australian Vogel's Literary Award. It is an innovative, imaginative, and well-written novel based on the real friendship of Franz Kafka and his fellow writer and contemporary Max Brod.It was to Brod that Kafka left all his writings, with instructions to burn them when he died. Brod, of course, did no such thing, and it was due to him and his belief that Kafka's writings held hidden Zionist messages that Kafka and his work eventually became more famous and more widely-known than Brod himself.
Due to complicated legal proceedings over the ownership of Kafka's papers, this great archive has never yet been seen. It is known, however, to contain Brod's own diaries, in which his friendship with Kafka is documented.
In The Lost Pages, Marija Pericic, inspired by the complex and bizarre story of Kafka's papers, as told in a 2010 New York Times article, "Kafka's Lost Papers" by Elif Batuman, has invented Max Brod's memoirs. There, Max writes in detail of his difficult relationship with the elusive Kafka, who never seems to be where he is meant to be, whose success threatens to surpass Max's own, and who becomes, in Max's eyes, his rival in love as well as in his work.
This is an ingeniously contrived novel, but sadly for me, the Max Brod revealed in these pages is a depressing, depressed, self-focussed, and unsympathetic character with whom I soon lost patience. However, I did continue reading, and the final dramatic chapters of the book do explain his obsessions and delusions, and it becomes clear these character traits are essential to the outcome, and that this has been hinted at and prepared for throughout the book.
Whether Franz Kafka and Max Brod were anything like their namesakes as depicted in The Lost Pages is impossible to tell, but Marija Pericic's extensive research suggests to her that Kafka was far less bleak a character than is usually supposed, and that Brod, who was born with a physical disability, may well have resented Kafka's success when it began to eclipse his own.
Brod was a successful and popular writer and composer. He acted as promoter and editor of Kafka's work during his life and, as his literary executor, after his death. In fact, there seems always to have been a complex relationship between Kafka's and Brod's work, and it is possible the archive papers will reveal much more about Brod's influence on Kafka's novels. It is this closeness that Marija Pericic has cleverly and inventively exploited in The Lost Pages. - Ann Skea
Due to complicated legal proceedings over the ownership of Kafka's papers, this great archive has never yet been seen. It is known, however, to contain Brod's own diaries, in which his friendship with Kafka is documented.
In The Lost Pages, Marija Pericic, inspired by the complex and bizarre story of Kafka's papers, as told in a 2010 New York Times article, "Kafka's Lost Papers" by Elif Batuman, has invented Max Brod's memoirs. There, Max writes in detail of his difficult relationship with the elusive Kafka, who never seems to be where he is meant to be, whose success threatens to surpass Max's own, and who becomes, in Max's eyes, his rival in love as well as in his work.
This is an ingeniously contrived novel, but sadly for me, the Max Brod revealed in these pages is a depressing, depressed, self-focussed, and unsympathetic character with whom I soon lost patience. However, I did continue reading, and the final dramatic chapters of the book do explain his obsessions and delusions, and it becomes clear these character traits are essential to the outcome, and that this has been hinted at and prepared for throughout the book.
Whether Franz Kafka and Max Brod were anything like their namesakes as depicted in The Lost Pages is impossible to tell, but Marija Pericic's extensive research suggests to her that Kafka was far less bleak a character than is usually supposed, and that Brod, who was born with a physical disability, may well have resented Kafka's success when it began to eclipse his own.
Brod was a successful and popular writer and composer. He acted as promoter and editor of Kafka's work during his life and, as his literary executor, after his death. In fact, there seems always to have been a complex relationship between Kafka's and Brod's work, and it is possible the archive papers will reveal much more about Brod's influence on Kafka's novels. It is this closeness that Marija Pericic has cleverly and inventively exploited in The Lost Pages. - Ann Skea
"A literary escapade that comes highly recommended."—Historical Novels Review
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