In the Library
A Hunger Artist
Franz Kafka, 1922
- Form
- Form Short Story
- Difficulty
- Difficulty Accessible
- Reading time
- Reading time 15 minutes
- Translated by
- Translated by Translated for The Daily Canon
- Original
- Original de
- Chapters
- Chapters 1
- Length
- Length 4k words
£1.99
Read in the app, yours for good. Not yet by post.
The book unlocks on your account as soon as you buy it, so the 14-day right to cancel ends once it is unlocked.
I always wanted you to admire my fasting.
What buying means
- Yours for good, on every iPhone you sign in to.
- Read in the app’s own reader, with the original beside the translation where there is one.
- Downloaded, so it reads with no signal.
- The same price as in the app. Folio already opens every book on this shelf; buying keeps this one after Folio ends. A refund takes it back.
If you like this, try
The Metamorphosis
Franz Kafka
Kafka's other great parable of a body that becomes its own prison, and the family watches with the same diminishing interest.
£1.99
Bartleby, the Scrivener
Herman Melville
Bartleby carries the same uncomprehended refusal of the world, but trades the circus cage for a law office where withdrawal replaces performance entirely.
£1.99
Notes from the Underground
Fyodor Dostoevsky
Notes from the Underground shares the same contempt for an audience that will never understand the sufferer, but turns the starving showman's silence into pages of furious self-justifying speech.
£1.99
About the book
There was an age when a man could grow famous by eating nothing, when crowds gathered at a barred cage to watch him fast and butchers stood guard day and night so he could not sneak a meal. Kafka's hunger artist is the last practitioner of this dying art, held to forty days by an impresario who knows that is where interest peaks. When fasting falls out of fashion he is moved to a circus stall on the way to the menagerie, where the crowd rushes past toward the animals and no one bothers to change the board counting his days. He goes on starving, unwatched, longer than anyone has. Then comes the confession that turns the whole thing inside out: he was never worth admiring, because he fasted only since he could never find a food he liked. Kafka wrote this as tuberculosis closed his own throat, correcting proofs while eating became impossible. When the artist dies they put a young panther in his cage, joy roaring through its body, and the crowd presses close, unable to look away.


