We Love You, Franz (Milujeme Vás, Glenne)

Someone must have been playing God, for Franz Kafka and Glenn Gould one vernal morn found themselves in a Prague café sharing tea.1

“Frank—may I call you Frank?” asked Glenn.2

“Nemluvím anglicky!” Franz repeated.3

“Frank, you’ve been quoted as stating that—in your view—‘A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul.’ Now, having a certain fascination with ice myself—the north, you see—I wonder if…”4

The noted radio documentarian continued in this fashion at length, outlining a question too complex for him to notice the other’s discomfort. Franz sighed, trying once more in German and then with limited French invective, but to no avail (or at least to no apparent avail). It had been like this for half an hour, and he showed no signs of letting up his one-sided verbosity. To further exacerbate Franz’s confusion, Glenn would at times stop talking completely, as if waiting for a response to whatever question he had posed. At first Franz used these respites in an attempt to explain the glaring problem of his companion’s attempt at dialogue, but the only response this would yield was Glenn waving his arms dramatically as Franz spoke, reminiscent of a cracked orchestra conductor. All Franz had really been able to gather from this was that he was being called “Frank” and that Glenn was stark raving mad, if not for his endless chatter then for his wardrobe. It must have been at least 30 degrees and he was wearing a heavy overcoat and wool scarf.5

And Franz certainly could have left at anytime…but something compelled him to stay.6

“You’ve been dead for 83 years, and I’m curious to know how your experience contrasts to my own—24 years. What do you think has brought us together?” queried Glenn.7

“Tohle je docela zbytečné,” Franz mumbled glumly as another silence descended. More flailing arms.8

This was not to say that Glenn wasn’t a tad consternated himself. It was annoying that Franz refused to comment on his own death. The absurdity of the situation was apparently lost on the morose insurance adjuster, who seemed more concerned with declaring he could not understand Glenn (Glenn had gathered that this was what he had been shouting from the start). That Glenn could speak none of the languages Franz could was entirely beside the point. Here was a marvellous chance to study a fascinating turn of events in both their lives, and all he could do was fuss. Was Franz not interested in the twenty-first century landscape that surrounded them, of the history that had passed in his “absence”? Glenn was. But Franz couldn’t even humour him. Glenn wouldn’t let this lack of report get him down, and with his usual enthusiasm, he tried to make the best of his unresponsive partner. He thought that if he continued speaking, he might spark something…get Franz talking.9

Eventually, however, it dawned on him that perhaps Franz was not the best interviewee for this deep, important turn of events.10

“Mr. Gould, first of all, thank you for being here,” he greeted himself.11

“I don’t think I had a choice, Mr. Gould,” he replied to himself.12

“No need to be rude.”13

“Forgive me, I was merely stating facts.”14

“Quite alright, but please try to be less blunt in the future. Now, Mr. Gould, would you say that this event is entirely without explanation?”15

“Certainly not, Mr. Gould. This has its roots in any number of physical or paranormal phenomena. UFOs, a deity, a wormhole…perhaps some sort of indulgence of the collective unconscious. That or I’ve finally gone stark raving mad.”16


Franz gawked at Glenn. He was addressing himself! That was too much, even for Franz. He rose from his chair and made to leave, but it struck him that the check had not been paid, and he didn’t know if this odd character would pay it or not. Franz could not be seen to dine and dash; after all, he had something of a reputation to keep up. So he took his seat once more and watched Glenn (who didn’t seem to notice his attempt to leave) interrogate himself, slowly beginning to take in the sounds of the modern traffic and a chatty, hungry jackdaw.
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