A Hunger Artist

From The Complete Stories

by Franz Kafka  

“A Hunger Artist” presents a hypothetical circumstance, which is not magical in nature, but like those in any other piece of fiction. And the circumstance is not metaphorical, but straight-forward: logically, if there was such a situation we found ourselves in, how would we behave? The story does not seek to justify what we would want justified in our world. We are left only to observe what happens because of it. Specifically, it dramatizes the consequences for lack of integrity, the lack of which we allow but do not see as readily as in this story.

First, it is important to consider who the narrator may be, because he sets the tone of the story and frames it in a particular perspective or attitude (eg. positive, negative, etc.); the tone of the narrator’s voice (akin to the “atmosphere” of a gothic setting) serves to constantly remind the reader what genre the story is in. Per Magic Realism (or Kafka), the narrator has no urgent message for us; or rather, none that applies to our own reality. We treat his narrative as a source for insight into people applied to conditions in his world.

The narrator notes, with a little concern, the lack of interest the public has for fasting as an art form. He is not concerned with how the enthusiasm for such events could encourage others to embark on similar aspirations/lifestyles, how an enthusiasm to watch could lead to an enthusiasm to perform; as though such realities that are acknowledged in our world are not acknowledged or do not exist in his. In this way, Kafka seems to relieve the pressure of social responsibility (and for the ‘responsible’ reader, reluctantly) and acknowledges the realities underneath, that of apathy for the well-being of others and a self-centered interest to feel good and be entertained; which, by the way, places this piece in the realm of Existentialism. {A part of the state of our existence hinges on what we maintain, on human constructs we bolster for the sake of something that is valuable. We don’t ask why we value that something; we just do; which then ripples into our daily lives and how we evaluate life itself.}

The narrator, here, focuses on the honor of the profession of the hunger artist, which feels incongruous with reality as we know it, for its lack of concern for the importance of good health; an importance we try to emphasize to counter the many forces which encourage individuals to be model-thin (and thus starve in private).

There are parallels between what we and the “hunger artist” find noble, namely discipline and commitment to one’s profession. While discipline, in “our world,” is honorable, starving oneself is not, or we claim that it is not; we only honor those who are thin (which encourages people to find ways to similarly be as thin). It is ironic that parts of the narrator’s society are acknowledged as not taking such a profession seriously, a profession which is honorable solely for its evidence of discipline in the artist. This single parallel, the honor in discipline, thus, only exists between “our world” and the mind, the reality, of the narrator, while the narrator’s society takes neither discipline itself, nor the social responsibility I spoke of earlier, seriously. Kafka isolates discipline as honorable, just as he denigrates it in our eyes (by highlighting a discipline we would shame others to condone), and dismisses it in the eyes of the narrator’s society; who not only dismiss the seriousness of the artist’s work, but the integrity the artist has for his work. The “permanent watchers,” for example, hired to make sure the hunger artist does not eat anything, do not believe the artist actually starves himself as thoroughly as he claims to (maybe because they, themselves, do not take the art seriously). This insults the artist, who, rather, enjoys the support of his fans, who do believe in his “integrity.”

Throughout, the artist only wants to be honored, and the narrator knows this, asking on behalf of the artist, “Why should he be cheated of the fame he would get for fasting longer… for beating his own record by a performance beyond human imagination, since he felt that there were no limits to his capacity for fasting?” The artist doesn’t take his own “art” seriously, and practices it only for the glory of it, ignoring even the possibility of death. The artist is in fact greedy for glory; even after being the best at what he does, and being acknowledged as the best, he continues to want more prestige, believing it to have value in itself; it is the “food” he craves. Meanwhile, the city stops the fast after forty days, because marketability proves to decline after forty days: the city is not concerned with even the glory of it, as it claims to, but primarily with profiting from the event monetarily.

At all levels, the “art” is a sham, perpetuated by one (the artist/the city) using the other for something other than the “art” itself. Even the lady helpers, feeling honored to have been chosen, “were apparently so friendly and in reality so cruel,” not really caring for the artist who they claim to admire; not even wanting to touch him when he slumps over one, in weakness. The “ladies” felt honored not to be apart of the event, specifically, but to have been chosen above all other ladies; to them, it was a competition for glory, making the “glory” devoid of real meaning.

“Integrity,” in the mind of the narrator, refers merely to being honest, where glory for an event is based on being glorified. The city does not find the “art” to be admirable, but support it because it’s marketable; and it’s marketable only because their youth see it as fashionable, while their youth are not in the thralls of admiration, but awe, which is only temporary. Meanwhile, the artist himself feels he deserves more fame, because he could last longer. He is honest and actually keeps his promise to finish the forty-day fast, but he is not proud of being able to fast for being able to fast; he is proud, rather, of being able to fast longer than any other. It is for him, also, a competition for glory; while, again, glory is not based on anything that deserves glory; the “art” itself is not a source for pride.

In the end, the artist realizes that people should in fact not admire his trade, because, he says, “I can’t help it… because I couldn’t find the food I liked.” Fasting came easy to him; it didn’t require the discipline and commitment people thought it did, which further undermined the honor the narrator felt the artist deserved.

…

Kafka, Franz and Nahum Glatzer, Editor. The Complete Stories. Trans. Willa and Edwin Muir. New York: Schocken Books, 1995.