When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from his unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin.
Containing, perhaps, some of the most absurdly comedic lines in classic literature, The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka perfectly illustrates a similarly absurd type of tragedy: Gregor Samsa wakes up in his bed and finds himself changed into a mammothian vermin. He doesn’t understand how or why it happened; it just did. His family grows horrified by him, his sister comes to despise him for having to take care of him, and his father pushes him further into his corner, until Gregor is alienated and removed from the rest of human society.
Perhaps the true tragedy was the fact that Gregor’s first thought upon waking up was heading to work to support his family. The irony lies in the fact that his family became better off after his “metamorphosis”. This metamorphosis brings about not only the question of alienation and identity but also the depressing thought that we may be a burden to our causes.
While largely up for interpretation, The Metamorphosis seemed to me like an exploration of the harrowing nature of mental illness. Kafka writes about the suddenness of the process, beginning with the metamorphosis, and the helplessness that follows. Gregor is constantly in pain; moving strains him; he’s constantly and completely ashamed of himself; and he strives at all times to hide himself from view. By not being able to work and support his family, his sole purpose in life is stripped away, and as he becomes alienated in his room, his family comes to think of him as a burden. Yet, to the very end of the story, he holds his family above him at all times. He realizes that his family is better off without him. He realizes that he’s better off gone. His existence is the sole thing holding them down, despite all he’s worked for and his plans for his sister to succeed.
He thought back on his family with deep emotion and love. His conviction that he would have to disappear was, if possible, even firmer than his sister’s. He remained in this state of empty and peaceful reflection until the tower clock struck three in the morning. He still saw that outside the window everything was beginning to grow light. Then, without his consent, his head sank down to the floor, and from his nostrils streamed his last weak breath.
This story is just pure tragedy in fifty pages. Whatever the protagonist was going through, it’s not something that can be easily quantified in words.
I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.
~ 5 stars.
