It’s not a story of a professional fasting artist rather than a story of a person who’s empty both physically and spiritually, yet in his long journey in fasting and amuse passersby he hasn’t fulfilled anything. It’s a story that reflects how pride can be harmful and how hunger turned out to be fruitlessness.
Nobody cared about what he’s doing; the overseer himself didn’t have a consistent opinion of his art, ” “I always wanted you to admire my fasting,” said the hunger artist. “we do admire it,” said the overseer, affably. “but you shouldn’t admire it,” said the hunger artist. “well, then we don’t admire it,” said the overseer.”
As all of Kafka’s stories; it represents absurdity at its extreme. As much as the hunger artist’s fasting was important to him and consider it to be art, as mush as it did not mean anything more than passing time for passerby. It was in fashion, out of fashion, then in fashion again. Generation after generation have passed and their feelings toward his art seem to be the same.
Kafka dives deep into the human soul, and this dive exceeded his time to the present time. This is what makes his stories (specifically, the secondary characters) evergreen, Its intentions and actions are transmitted over time. High-quality tragedy.
Started Reading – June 7, 2017
Finished Reading – June 7, 2017
* I own a copy of the book.