ABSTRACT
In 1919, Franz Kafka wrote a letter to his father that was never delivered. This can be considered the draft (ahead of its time) of an autobiography of a “spoilt child”. Kafka writes:
My overmastering sense of nothingness […] stems largely from your influence. I just needed a little encouragement, a little friendliness, a little openness with regard to my own way, but instead you blocked this—with the good intention that I should head in a way that was altogether different. But it didn’t do any good. You encouraged me when, for example, I saluted well and marched, but I was no future soldier; and you encouraged me when I ate vigorously and drank beer.
(Kafka, 1919, p. 9)