Josephine the Singer by Franz Kafka

First published: "Josephine die Sängerin: Oder, Das Volk der äuse," 1924 (English translation, 1942)

Type of plot: Animal tale

Time of work: Unspecified

Locale: Unspecified

Principal Characters:

• Josephine, a mouse and singer
• The narrator, an anonymous member of the mouse folk

The Story

The narrator, a philosophizing mouse, reflects on the powerful effect that the singing of his fellow mouse Josephine has on the unmusical community of mice. Among the practical, sly, and care-laden mice, Josephine is an exception. She alone loves music and knows how to supply it. However, there are some mice who do not find anything extraordinary in Josephine's singing. The narrator partly includes himself in this opposition group that finds nothing artistic in her song, which seems to be nothing more than common mouse squeaking. The narrator adds, however, that one must see her as well as hear her in order to understand her art, which derives its uniqueness from the way she stands before the assembled mice and does with great ceremony what every other mouse does without thinking. The fact that she is somewhat less proficient in squeaking than the average mouse seems only to heighten the effect of her performance.

It is times of trouble that Josephine deems most fitting for her recitals, for at such times the restless and anxious mice are eager to come together for mutual support and comfort. "Quiet peace is our most beloved music," the narrator notes early in the story, and when the mice fall silent in her auditorium, it is as if they were participating in this longed-for peace. Thus, the narrator asks himself: "Is it her song that delights us, or perhaps rather the solemn stillness, with which her weak little voice is surrounded?" In order to gather the scurrying mice, Josephine usually needs only to assume her singing pose, with her head tilted back, mouth half open, and eyes turned to the heights. If the number of listeners is too few, she will stamp her feet, swear, and even bite until a suitable audience is found.

Why do the mice go to such lengths for her, the narrator asks. He suggests that the community sees itself as Josephine's protector, as a father for this fragile, needy child. Josephine, on the other hand, believes that her role is to protect the mice from their daily troubles. Her song supposedly saves them from their serious economic and political situation. However, it is all too easy, the narrator insists, to pose as the savior of the mouse folk, who are accustomed to suffering and capable of overcoming on their own any challenges to their survival.

Josephine's singing profits from a childlike quality that characterizes the mouse folk. Life is too difficult for the mice, their enemies too many, and the dangers facing them too incalculable for a prolonged, carefree, and playful childhood. In contradiction to their practical intellect, their underdeveloped childish side causes them to behave foolishly for the sake of a little fun. However, they are also grown-ups for too long, which leads to a certain tiredness, despondency, and lack of musicality. "We are too old for music," the narrator claims.

During Josephine's concerts, only the young mice pay attention to the nuances of her delivery. In these brief moments of rest from their struggles, the older mice withdraw dreamily into themselves: "It is as though the limbs of each individual were loosened, as though the restless one were permitted for once to relax and stretch out pleasureably on the great warm bed of the people." Josephine's staccato squeaking resounds in the dreams of her listeners and liberates them from the fetters of their daily lives: "Something of our poor brief childhood is in it, something of lost, never to be recovered happiness, but also something of the active life of today, of its slight, incomprehensible cheerfulness that lasts in spite of everything and is inextinguishable."

This is not to say, though, that Josephine herself gives new strength to the mice in times of danger, which is what she and her adherents like to believe. Nor does the power of her singing justify the demands for special privileges that she makes, especially the demand to be freed from all daily work, which she claims damages her voice. What she really wants, according to the narrator, is unequivocal and lasting public recognition of her art. This is precisely what eludes her.

Recently Josephine has stepped up her struggle for recognition, threatening to overwhelm her opponents with her singing or, failing that, to cut her coloratura arias. The narrator dismisses these notions as empty rumors circulated by her followers. She is unrelenting, however, claiming to have injured her foot or to be indisposed. Her concerts have turned into theatrical performances. After her adherents flatter and coax her into singing, she still breaks down and eventually leaves, but not without first checking the crowd for the least sign of their understanding of her music.

The latest news is that she has disappeared on an occasion when her singing was expected, and that the search for her has turned up nothing. Although she may go into hiding and destroy the power of her song, the mouse folk are strong and can overcome even her death. They will not have to forgo much, for the memory of her squeaking will live on in future assemblies, perhaps with greater vitality.

As for Josephine herself, she will be delivered from her earthly torment and happily lose herself among the countless heroes of the mouse folk. As the mice do not practice history, she will soon be forgotten "in heightened redemption like all her brothers."