I have heard Franz Kafka’s praises be sung from dawn to dusk throughout my years on Tumblr and Pinterest, not to mention my English Literature degree pointing out his impact and influence across a great many decades. I hadn’t picked up any of his works though, and so here is where Metamorphosis enters the fray. At first, I didn’t understand the point of it, but after reading a few interpretations and reactions, the meaning and messages felt like a slap in the face.

“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. He was laying on his hard, as it were armor-plated, back and when he lifted his head a little he could see his domelike brown belly divided into stiff arched segments on top of which the bed quilt could hardly keep in position and was about to slide off completely. His numerous legs, which were pitifully thin compared to the rest of his bulk, waved helplessly before his eyes.” With it’s startling, bizarre, yet surprisingly funny first opening, Kafka begins his masterpiece, Metamorphosis. It is the story of a young man who, transformed overnight into a giant beetle-like insect, becomes an object of disgrace to his family, an outsider in his own home, a quintessentially alienated man. A harrowing—though absurdly comic—meditation on human feelings of inadequacy, guilt, and isolation, Metamorphosis has taken its place as one of the most widely read and influential works of twentieth-century fiction.

It is a strange beginning, something so out-of-the-blue and original that it can’t help but be absurd and comical. Beneath that though, once the novelty of the character and situation wears off, we get to the heart of the story, the themes and underlying messages that Metamorphosis provides. This is a short story that highlights a rather sad, yet far too popular part of human life – the requirement to be useful. Once that usefulness is removed from the situation – a financial aide drying up, a worker unable to complete tasks, a promising individual falling short – then the relationship is no longer convenient. We see it here in the family setting, and once the reality of the story lands it honestly strikes pretty deep.

This then begs the question what is the point of human life. What measure is there for success? What measure is there for a lack of success? When does someone become ‘useless’? Unfortunately, I think we can all think of an example or two, perhaps quite close to home, that comes to mind. If success is dependent on usefulness, just what are our relationships about at the end of the day? When we start treating the people we love like pariahs, how long does it take to dehumanise them and treat them like a faulty piece of machinery? these questions and themes explored in Metamorphosis are deeply uncomfortable, and they should be, because we are essentially questioning at what point a person becomes undeserving of basic human decency, love, and compassion.

I wasn’t expecting this from Metamorphosis, and I can see why Kafka is a revered writer for such a succinct yet powerful piece of work. It is odd yet compelling, original yet familiar, and deeply personally yet holds relatability across the globe. It is commentary on the human condition, an existential exploration rooted in humanity and a perceived allowance for love. I highly recommend picking it up if you are a scholarly reader or if you are looking for a deeper read that delves into some of the sadder explorations into the human condition. But if you are not familiar with the more literary works or are thinking of picking up Metamorphosis because you have seen some excerpts of Kafka’s amid your social media scrolling, I would hold off for now. It will be around for years to come and I feel there may be a better time for you to read it later in your reading journey.