Franz Kafka, a Czech writer, wrote in his diary in 1918, "I hate everything that does not relate to literature, conversations bore me (even when they relate to literature), to visit people bores me, the joys and sorrows of my relatives bore me to my soul.

Tuesday, December 07, 1999

Franz Kafka, a Czech writer, wrote in his diary in 1918, "I hate everything that does not relate to literature, conversations bore me (even when they relate to literature), to visit people bores me, the joys and sorrows of my relatives bore me to my soul. Conversation takes the importance, the seriousness, the truth, out of everything I think."

One might find this an argument to spend more time in the library.

Speaking of the library, two weeks ago, one of Minnesota’s finest writers and 1998-99 Edelstein-Keller Author of Distinction at the University of Minnesota, Carol Bly, presented a workshop on writing at the Library. Carol also loves good literature. This love grew early, prompted by having to read good literature as a child and private schooling in the East at Abbot Academy.

In the evening session, she read from her latest work "An Adolescent Christmas: 1944," that tells of a Thomas Gray poem she memorized, "Elegy Written in a Country Church-Yard." A poem that said "it was just freak circumstance that Jews, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Slavs, and other political prisoners were dying by the millions in Nazi camps and we were safe at ninety-two-and-a-half degrees of West longitude."

She followed with a short story about two young girls "always" chosen last when they play softball in school. Reminding us of the discomfort we create in youth. The "choosers" fail to call out the name of the last chosen, they just "nod their head" at her to join them.

I think Carol Bly and Franz Kafka have much in common. One could easily find an entry like Kafka’s somewhere in Carol’s mind.

Literature was important too, to Eugene LaVine, an English literature teacher and administrator at Austin Community College from 1949 to 1975. He died Friday in Minneapolis.

His obituary depicted him as, "A memorable teacher, author of poetry, radio plays and a book "Tales of the Sioux." A member of good standing of the Discussion Group. A director of community theater, a leader of great books and willing participant in any good argument about politics, literature, art, music, education and current affairs."

I’m sure he knew of Kafka and maybe at times felt like Kafka felt in his diary. Mr. LaVine also had a sense of humor.

I remember my sister, who ran around with his daughter, describing Mr. LaVine as a teacher, his words and wit, when she attended the Junior College. I listened in childhood awe.

Eight years later, when I returned to the Junior College – perched high-a-top the high school – after leaving two-thirds of the way through my first dismal year with a less than "D" average, I chatted with Mr. LaVine, then the registrar.

I greeted him in the "Opium Den," a name LaVine had given the break room. Both of us were doing our part to cast the first layer of a ‘greenish brown tinge’ on the windows.

"Mr. LaVine," I said, "I’m back and this year I’m going to get straight As."

"Vilt, if you get straight As you can carry a flaming torch through the halls and all the teachers will have to bow down when they meet you."

Unfortunately, I never had Mr. LaVine for English literature. Nor did I get to carry the flaming torch.

He was back in Austin not long ago for a funeral with his son Lance, a high school classmate. The old professor hadn’t changed.

He knew many at the reception that followed. Some, no doubt, from a "discussion group" of an earlier time.

I came upon another discussion group recently.

This time in a booklet produced by the Center of Youth Development and Research at the University of Minnesota. A member of the group described characteristics and needs of human beings in the society that produced the Nazis – their aim was "power over all the people." The stated goal of education and those in that society who worked with youth – to "curb curiosity, destroy self-direction and assertiveness."

He concluded, "In subtle ways we all carry this heritage with us to some extent."

Carol Bly first caught my attention years back when she wrote, "We must teach our children not to be just problem solvers, but to be madly expressive."

Are we doing this?

I listened to an English teacher last week who felt the graduation standards were doing little in terms of encouraging creativity.

With the likes of Kafka, Carol Bly, and people like Eugene LaVine we have at least a chance.

Bob Vilt’s column appears Tuesdays