Kafka was always our model. How is it possible that a human being could write like that?, W. says, again and again. It's always at the end of the night that he says this. We have drunk a great deal, the sky opens above us, and it is possible to speak of what is most important.
At the same time, we have Kafka to blame for everything. Our lives each took a wrong turn when we opened The Castle. It was quite fatal: there was literature in person. We were finished. What could we do, simple apes, but exhaust ourselves in imitation? We had been struck by something we could not understand. It was above us, beyond us, and we were not of its order.
Lars Iyer's Blog 