Amerika – Franz Kafka (1927)

Amerika (The Man Who Disappeared) is an unfinished novel by Franz Kafka, written between 1911 and 1914 and posthumously published in 1927. Originally titled Der Verschollene, meaning “The Missing One,” the novel was edited by Kafka’s friend and literary executor Max Brod, who also supplied its now-common title. Although less well-known than The Trial or The Castle, Amerika is Kafka’s earliest attempt at a novel and features many of his hallmark themes – alienation, bureaucracy, guilt, and the absurd. Unlike his other major works, however, Amerika unfolds in a mythologized United States, blending comedic misadventure with ominous undertones, all while presenting a surreal reflection of early 20th-century European views of the New World.

Plot Summary

As the transatlantic steamer edged slowly into New York Harbor, the Statue of Liberty rose into view, its sword high in the sunlight and its winds unchained. Karl Rossmann, seventeen and newly exiled from his European home, stood among the crowd of passengers, gripped more by the monumental vision than by the urgency to disembark. He had been cast off by his family, dispatched to America after a scandal involving a maid who bore his child. With little more than a suitcase and a vague hope, Karl’s journey into the unknown had already begun before he stepped foot onto American soil.

An innocent delay to retrieve an umbrella below deck led him deep into the labyrinth of the ship, where a chance encounter with a disgruntled stoker changed the rhythm of his arrival. The man, oppressed by his superior Schubal and brooding in his dim cabin, saw in Karl a sudden comrade. Karl, caught between confusion and curiosity, allowed himself to be swept into the stoker’s grievance. When they approached the ship’s administrative office to make a complaint, the stoker’s unhinged manner failed to win sympathy. But Karl – daring, impetuous, and still warm with the idealism of youth – stepped forward and spoke for the man. It was there, before the round table of officers and bureaucrats, that he caught the attention of Senator Edward Jakob, a man with a bamboo cane and a quiet authority. When Karl gave his name, the Senator recognized him not just by name, but as his long-lost nephew. The reunion altered the path of Karl’s fate.

Drawn suddenly from the chaos of the stoker’s world into the gleaming, controlled domain of his wealthy uncle, Karl was granted entry into the comfort of a privileged existence. The Senator, having discovered his nephew’s plight through a letter from the maid, took Karl into his Manhattan home. There, surrounded by luxury and expectation, Karl was instructed in decorum, warned against unsolicited friendships, and kept under watch. It was not affection that governed this hospitality but a stern form of paternalism. Karl’s dignity bent under the weight of the Senator’s rules. He was not to speak to servants, not to wander, not to choose his own acquaintances. Yet, one evening, he accepted an invitation to visit Mr Pollunder, a business associate of his uncle’s. The visit, though permitted, became a transgression. The Senator considered the overnight stay an act of disobedience and, with swift resolve, severed ties with Karl. The young man was once more alone, his belongings removed, his patron gone.

Homeless in a foreign land, Karl wandered through streets and institutions, seeking employment, shelter, and something like kindness. He found instead the twin figures of Robinson and Delamarche, two vagrants whose camaraderie veiled control. Drunk, deceitful, and capricious, they treated Karl like a prize, each staking a claim to him. Their attachment, though garbed in familiarity, gradually revealed its coercion. At times he tried to escape, but circumstance kept returning him to them. Eventually, they dragged him into the service of Brunelda – a grotesque, obese singer confined in an apartment like a crumbling throne room, who took Karl in not as a guest, but as a servant to be kept, fed, and commanded. She desired not assistance but ownership. He was washed, dressed, paraded, and forbidden to leave. Each attempt to assert his will was subdued by threats, fatigue, or manipulation. Karl became one more object in her collection, one more name beneath her breath.

Yet something stirred in him still – a whisper of his lost autonomy, a desire not yet beaten out of him. When news reached the city of the Nature Theatre of Oklahoma, a grand institution recruiting anyone for any role, Karl fled. It promised work, shelter, purpose – even happiness. The Theatre accepted all applicants, no questions asked, and its recruiters traversed the country in majestic trains to gather the willing. Karl, hesitant and worn, presented himself at their recruitment post. There, among the multitudes, he was welcomed. Papers were filled, names taken, and promises made. A great train, endless in its compartments, awaited its cargo of new players. He boarded, assigned to a wagon headed west.

In this theatre, all were needed. Musicians, cooks, machinists, dancers, actors – the roles were as boundless as the territory. As the train rolled on, its compartments unfolded like a moving kingdom, revealing stages, dining halls, quarters, and corridors teeming with energy. Karl was given food, warmth, and a uniform. He learned the name of his destination – Oklahoma – and was told he would be placed according to his talents. No longer questioned about his past, no longer scolded for his errors, he found himself among others who, like him, were lost and hopeful. It was a strange fraternity of the vanished and the wandering.

The journey passed through lands vast and foreign. The train thundered across rivers, prairies, and into endless dusk. In the motion of the train, Karl felt no fear. He peered through the windows at twilight landscapes that shimmered like possibilities. The distant fields stretched into a blur, like memories too broad to hold. Those around him laughed, conversed, and rehearsed. Someone played music. Others cleaned their shoes or tried on costumes. A girl danced in the corridor.

As the train neared its destination, the lights of the theatre’s promised land flickered on the horizon. Karl leaned against the window, his face illuminated by the soft glow of an unseen city. The breath of the wind outside pressed cold against the glass, and he shuddered – not from fear, nor from sorrow, but from something vast and indistinct. Behind him, the life he had known – the maid, the uncle, the stoker, Brunelda, the vagrants – seemed like silhouettes fading into fog. Before him stretched the limitless plains of a new order, unreal yet tangible, silent and booming with hidden voices. The train roared forward.

Karl Rossmann, once cast off, once forgotten, once pressed into nameless servitude, now journeyed into a future that spoke neither judgment nor absolution. Whether he had found salvation or another illusion, he could no longer know. But the wheels turned steadily beneath him, and America – vast, strange, and unknowable – opened its arms once more.

Main Characters

• Karl Rossmann – A sixteen (later noted as seventeen)-year-old boy sent to America by his parents after being seduced by a housemaid who bore his child. Karl is kind-hearted, naive, and endlessly subjected to misfortune. His journey through various American institutions becomes a disorienting odyssey through a world governed by arbitrary power and impenetrable systems. Karl’s struggle to find stability and belonging is the emotional core of the novel.

• The Stoker – A working-class ship worker Karl meets shortly after arriving in New York. The stoker, disillusioned and angry over his unjust treatment by superiors, becomes Karl’s first connection in the new world. He is volatile and desperate, representing both camaraderie and the hopelessness of resistance within a rigid hierarchy.

• Senator Edward Jakob (Uncle Jakob) – Karl’s wealthy American uncle who briefly rescues him from poverty, only to later cast him out due to a perceived betrayal. He is authoritative, possessive, and emblematic of patriarchal power that promises protection but demands submission. His sudden reappearance introduces a fleeting sense of hope that swiftly dissolves.

• Robinson and Delamarche – Two vagrant figures who take Karl under their wing after his expulsion from his uncle’s home. Initially presenting themselves as allies, they gradually exploit and imprison Karl. Their chaotic lifestyle and manipulative behavior represent a descent into servitude and social invisibility.

• Brunelda – A grotesquely obese woman who keeps Karl essentially as a servant or pet. Her treatment of Karl blurs the lines between maternal indulgence and oppressive control, adding another layer to the themes of exploitation and loss of agency.

Theme

• Alienation and Exile: Karl is both literally and spiritually exiled throughout the narrative. Sent away from his homeland, rejected by his uncle, and shuffled between employers and caretakers, Karl experiences a profound sense of dislocation. This motif echoes Kafka’s own feelings of estrangement from family and society, positioning the immigrant as a perpetual outsider.

• Power, Bureaucracy, and Injustice: Kafka’s critique of institutional authority is omnipresent. From the hierarchical structure aboard the ship to the impersonal dealings in hotels and workplaces, Karl is always at the mercy of unseen or indifferent bureaucratic powers. These systems obscure justice, rendering personal integrity meaningless in the face of arbitrary authority.

• Illusion of the American Dream: Kafka’s America is not a land of opportunity but of confusion, surveillance, and shifting identities. Karl’s journey satirizes the idealized image of the New World, exposing how hope and freedom are often undermined by exploitation and systemic control. The “Nature Theatre of Oklahoma” is portrayed as both a fantastical sanctuary and a potentially sinister trap.

• Identity and Disappearance: The original title, Der Verschollene, emphasizes disappearance over geography. Karl’s identity is continuously reshaped by others – as a nephew, worker, servant, or ‘Negro’ – until he is nearly erased. Kafka explores how modern life erodes individual agency, turning people into lost figures within vast, impersonal systems.

• Absurdity and Surrealism: Kafka populates the narrative with improbable settings, bizarre social rituals, and exaggerated characters. From elevators that reach impossible heights to room numbers that make no logical sense, the novel’s architecture and logic mirror Karl’s internal confusion and the world’s estrangement from reality.

Writing Style and Tone

Kafka’s prose in Amerika carries a unique blend of clarity and absurdity. The sentences are often long and winding, describing mundane actions with minute detail, which paradoxically heightens the surreal tone of the narrative. His use of indirect speech, measured pacing, and precise observation gives even the most implausible scenes a dreamlike verisimilitude. Much of the narrative is driven by dialogue and gestures, mimicking theatrical blocking rather than traditional narration – a reflection of Kafka’s interest in Yiddish theatre at the time of writing.

The tone of Amerika is notably lighter and more exuberant than in The Trial or The Castle, especially in the early chapters. However, this levity is deceptive. Beneath the comedy lies a mounting dread, a sense of entrapment and inevitability. The novel oscillates between whimsy and menace, often within the same scene. Kafka’s irony is subtle but biting – the American dream is portrayed as a waking nightmare, cloaked in false promises and grotesque spectacle.