“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.”
Wait, what?
Yes, this is the opening line of Kafka’s Metamorphosis. If you’re wondering how the novel could possibly build from there, it doesn’t. The first sentence of this short story is its climax. The novel is simply falling action: the family discovers Gregor’s transformation, locks him in his room, and leaves him there to die. Despite the straightforward storyline, Metamorphosis is shrouded in mystery. Not even the mechanism by which Gregor Samsa is transformed into an insect is revealed. The entire novel goes without a single explanation, leaving the reader with a sense of confusion and frustration. Its complexity is found in its shallowness.
Its plot is as simple as it is depressing. Despite Gregor’s unconditional love for his family, he is abandoned to darkness, despised to his death. An aura of bleakness permeates each and every page. The family members simply accept their situation with a sense of hopelessness, believing that they have been predestined for despair. Perhaps its dismal theme reflects some aspects of reality, but I seek a meaning beyond gloom when turning to literature.
I certainly seek a sense of logic as well, which is notably absent from the work. Upon discovering his transformation, Gregor simply complains about his job and his state of exhaustion. The last thing on his mind is the fact that he’s a beetle. The novel is spattered with non sequitur, as Kafka casts aside any notion of reality. Perhaps I’m simply incapable of appreciating absurdism, but let’s face it: absurd is in its name.
Metamorphosis is perhaps the most perplexing piece of literature created within the past century. Its disjointedness is unrivaled by any other. Perhaps this was Kafka’s intent. If so, I certainly have some choice words for Mr. Kafka.