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Franz KafkaA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
K. is the central figure in The Castle, and the omniscient third-person narrator recounts the story from his point of view. However, like all the characters in the book, we know nothing of K.’s history, background, or personal life prior to the story. The reader only gains a partial impression of K.’s character through his behavior, reactions, and reflections during his few days in the village. A great deal happens to him, and his thoughts are explained in detail, but his personality and character development is not a major focus of the book. The Castle serves as a vehicle for sociological and political commentary, highlighting the general human experience at the hands of authorities and systems, and K.’s vague background and personality make him an apt representative of the average person. This allows K. to be a symbolic hero, an “everyman” rather than an individual, who represents humanity’s search for meaning in the modern world. Therefore, the analysis of his character does not reveal the individual depth found in some other works of literature.
K. is a land surveyor who is appointed by Count Westwest to assume an important role within the official realm of his Castle, or so K. believes. When K. arrives in the village, he is immediately treated with disdain and suspicion by the officials and villagers. His initial reaction is one of amusement, yet he soon feels “cause for a slight attack of despair” (14) after being thrown out of the first village house he enters. Despite this temporary sentiment, K.’s self-conviction and pride remain strong for a long while in the face of absurd events, insults, and threats to his position. He retains his conviction that logic will prevail and his appointment as surveyor will be restored once his file is found and he can meet Klamm and reach the Castle itself. His reaction to the first official letter shows his belief in logic: “Undoubtedly these were contradictions, so obvious they must be intentional” (23). This conviction drives his quest throughout the book, although absurdity and frustration erode it. As events unfold and his battle becomes more complex, K. himself becomes full of contradictions: “as if he had fought for this freedom for himself in a manner nobody else could have done […] yet,—and this conviction was at least equally strong—as if there were nothing more senseless, nothing more desperate, than this freedom, this waiting, this invulnerability” (106).
Meanwhile, K. is involved in a romantic relationship with Frieda. At times, he shows her loyalty, passion, and kindness, despite the girl’s inconsistent behavior toward him. Yet his intentions in maintaining this relationship are never quite clear. Both Frieda and K. mention the possibility that his interest in Frieda is driven by her connection to Klamm and therefore her usefulness to K. In addition, K. flirts with Pepi, and to some extent with Olga, and shows a dubious interest in Hans Brunswick’s mother. Therefore, it is difficult to assess whether K. is an honest and steadfast lover, a Casanova type or just a normal human being struggling with the same impulses and drives as everyone around him. He aligns himself with Olga and her family, hoping to find allies and support in his progressively disconcerting world. He reflects, “this was largely offset by the encounter with these people here, who were at least outwardly more or less in the same situation as he himself and with whom he could therefore ally himself, whom he could agree with on many things, and not only on some as with Frieda” (177).
K. is not always a sympathetic figure, and he shows the same contradictory attitudes and behavior as many of the other characters. He also reveals a somewhat arrogant and heartless attitude toward Frieda after she leaves him: “Frieda could be won back, she was easily influenced by strangers, even by those assistants […] K. only need go up to her, remind her of everything that spoke again in his favor, and she would once again be his, would even be full or remorse” (237). His duplicitous and manipulative behavior toward Jeremias, switching from offering friendship to making severe threats toward him, is another example of his self-serving behavior, as he adopts whatever manner will benefit him most, just as he aligns himself with whomever seems most likely to get him an audience with Klamm. As K.’s grip on reality loosens due to his inability to control events around him, his strength of character weakens too. By the end of the book, when all hope of salvation has been worn away, K. accepts the futility of his fight:
The orders simply passed over him, the favorable and the unfavorable, and even the favorable ones probably had a final, unfavorable core, but in any case they all passed over him and he was in far too inferior a position to influence them, let alone to make them fall silent and ensure that his own voice be heard (273).
K. finally understands and succumbs to the nature of the Castle, painting a bleak picture of humanity’s search for meaning and purpose in the modern world.
The relationship between K. and Frieda is central to The Castle. Frieda is the love interest for the protagonist K., and she is the story’s most fully developed character, showing the widest range of emotions and impulses, although her mercurial personality does not make her an entirely sympathetic character. Her motives for being with K. are also unclear, and her disloyalty to him and her over-affectionate relationship with the assistants do not endear her to the reader. Added to this, the negative portrayals of Frieda by several other characters, including Olga and Pepi, leave a dubious impression.
Frieda is a barmaid at the Gentlemen’s Inn when K. first meets her. She is “a nondescript little blonde with sad features, thin cheeks and a surprising gaze, a gaze of exceptional superiority” (36). She is also ambitious and snobbish, calling Klamm’s servants “despicable and repulsive creatures” (39). This superior attitude may stem from her role as Klamm’s mistress, a position of honor among most village women. Despite her unimpressive appearance, Frieda is flirtatious and captures K.’s attention deliberately: “Her ambition was obviously boundless and it was on K., apparently, that she sought to appease it” (37). It is Frieda who instigates the first kiss with K. and the night of presumably passionate sexual activity between them. Frieda’s hold over K. quickly escalates as she tells Klamm that she has left him for K. At this point, K. feels trapped: “What had happened? Where were his hopes? What could he expect from Frieda, now that all was betrayed?” (43). It is from this early point in their relationship that K.’s doubts about Frieda’s motives are established.
Her erratic behavior does nothing to dispel his worries. Her actions seem exaggerated and manipulative, part of the ploy to get K. to become engaged to her. Yet at times she shows great affection, loyalty, and passion. She leaves the Gentlemen’s Inn to live in poverty and discomfort with K. She prepares him food and negotiates for him when he is offered the post as school janitor. Despite this, she betrays K. very cruelly to the schoolteacher in the woodshed incident. Yet soon after, she expresses her love in a very romantic way, telling K. they should leave and go abroad to get away from Klamm: “I know of no greater happiness than to be with you, constantly, without interruption, without end” (138). Her discourse about the assistants is full of contradictions: She calls them ugly and repulsive yet says she cannot avoid touching them. She seems to enjoy their lascivious attention and connects it with Klamm. K. feels her disloyalty keenly, observing, “You’re still Klamm’s mistress and not my wife yet by any means” (140).
Their relationship remains rocky throughout the rest of the story. Reflecting his penchant for logic, K. is more steadfast, while Frieda is heavily influenced by the Bridge Inn landlady’s warnings about K.’s ulterior motives, although she denies this to K. She sees threats to their happiness in Hans’s mother and the Barnabas girls, and the specter of Klamm is a constant simmering presence between the couple.
The considerable time given to other characters’ views of Frieda highlight her importance and contribute to her more nuanced characterization while also reinforcing the reader’s suspicions of her motives. The Bridge Inn landlady’s implication that Frieda lost a great deal when she left Klamm for K. is an early indicator of Klamm’s importance to Frieda. When Olga compares Frieda and Amalia, it is Frieda who comes out worse: “The only difference is that Frieda did what Amalia refused to do” (197). Pepi’s description of Frieda is the most condemning: “It would otherwise be difficult to imagine what could have induced Frieda to give up her post, she was just sitting there in the taproom like a spider in its web, had threads everywhere that only she knew of” (289). Pepi is closest to Frieda, has followed her progress and is the most likely to know her motives. Pepi gives a convincing portrayal of Frieda as a sly, devious, ambitious, and manipulative girl scheming to return to her position as Klamm’s mistress, having used K. as a source of scandal to make herself seem indispensable to the inn and to Klamm. While Pepi’s account could sound like the bitter slander of a jealous colleague, it turns out that this is indeed Frieda’s intent, and Erlanger’s final order to K. involves ensuring Frieda’s return to the taproom. Her relationship with K. is built on deceit and illusion, like so many of his other relationships and experiences in the Castle’s realm.
Although Klamm is almost never seen, and his very existence is called into question, he is nonetheless a central character due to his pervasive influence on the village and its members. He is the faceless force that directs K.’s life in the shadow of the Castle, more a symbol than a human being, the personification of obscure and obstructive bureaucracy.
Klamm is first mentioned by name by Barnabas, but his power is initially established through the confusing letter to K., signed only “The Director of Bureau No. 10.” K.’s glimpse of Klamm through the keyhole is the only time a face is put to the name. He described as a “medium-sized fat, ponderous gentleman” with a smooth face but sagging cheeks. Even in this glimpse, his eyes remain concealed, so there is no hint of a personality.
The landlady Gardena’s enduring infatuation with Klamm reflects both his power and the broader community’s high regard for him. The landlady talks about a treasured photo, one of her three mementos of Klamm, but it is not of Klamm himself but the messenger whom Klamm sent for her. Even so, she values the picture as if it were of him. The fact that Klamm summoned her seems more important than the time they spent together. She only met Klamm three times, but his influence has extended throughout her life and her marriage, and the sorrow he caused “made the decay of her face seem pitiable” (76). Yet even as Gardena yearns for her long-lost place in Klamm’s life, her affection is sharply contrasted with this remote and invisible figure’s own attitude toward people: “Anyone he no longer summons, he forgets, not only for the past but literally for all time” (83).
With time, K. recognizes that evidence of Klamm’s existence is as scarce as the opportunity to talk to him. His conversation with Olga reinforces his growing suspicions. According to Olga,
[Klamm’s] appearance is of course well-known in the village. Some have actually seen him, everyone has heard of him, and what emerges from this mixture of sightings, rumors, and distorting ulterior motives is a picture of Klamm that is probably correct in its essential features. Only in its essential features. Otherwise it is variable and not even as variable as Klamm’s real appearance” (176).
There is so little physical evidence of Klamm that he may be essentially an image built from the villagers’ collection paranoia. Yet they are right to be paranoid, since nobody can escape from his insidious power, least of all K.
By Franz Kafka