Today, I want to share the story of one of Kafka’s most renowned works, the novella “The Metamorphosis,” published in 1915 by Franz Kafka. I will present a condensed version of the story and include my own analysis.

The employee Gregor Samsa wakes up one morning after restless dreams and has indeed turned into a bug: he looks down at himself, notices a carapace, sees tiny legs, and realizes he has changed into some sort of insect. But before he can even process what has happened to him, there is already a knock at the door—because normally he always leaves promptly for work, and since he didn’t show up on time, the chief clerk from the office immediately came over, rang the bell at the family’s apartment, and is now knocking on Gregor’s door.

“Mr. Samsa,” the clerk calls through the door, “What’s going on? You barricade yourself in, cause your parents needless worry, and neglect your business duties in a truly unheard-of manner—your position is by no means secure.”

So you see, as soon as he fails to function just once, his job is already under threat. Gregor tries to apologize, saying he feels unwell but will hurry and get ready. However, because the door is locked from the inside—he locked it the night before—they cannot get in, and they do not see what has actually happened to him. His voice, now high-pitched and distorted, sounds “insect-like.”

Hearing that voice, his mother says to the chief clerk, “You see, he’s sick. I’ll fetch a doctor and a locksmith. He must be so unwell that he can’t even unlock the door himself.” When Gregor hears this from his bed, he feels a sense of relief:

He felt himself once again included in the circle of humanity and pinned his hopes on those two—on the doctor and the locksmith—expecting truly great and astonishing services from them.

Before the two can arrive, he manages to slide out of bed by rolling over the rounded, armor-like surface of his back. To his own surprise, he can move rather decently on his little legs. He crawls up to the door, rises onto his hind legs, and uses his mouthparts to turn the key until the door unlocks. At last, the door flies open, and he topples out. He hopes to be reintegrated into the family circle if they can just see what has happened to him and show concern. But things turn out quite differently. Everyone is utterly horrified; the chief clerk runs from the apartment, and Gregor’s father has no other reaction than to take his walking stick and threaten him, driving him back into his room.

No matter how much Gregor pleads, it does no good. He may bow his head as humbly as he likes; his father only stomps his feet louder and hisses like a madman. But Gregor has no practice walking backward—he’s never had to do so—so he is very slow. Meanwhile, he fears the lethal blow of his father’s stick might strike his back at any moment. In his panic, because he can’t back up smoothly, he ends up wedged in the doorway. He tries to lift himself slightly so he can slide through, but his little legs get tangled up, and he can’t make it. Then his father gives him a solid shove with his foot, flings him into the room, and slams the door behind him, locking him in.

So he is treated as anything but part of the “human circle.” Next, his sister believes there is still a chance Gregor might return to his human form, so she cautiously brings him food—spreading scraps soaked in milk on a dish—because she imagines that is what he might now be able to eat. But she, too, is repulsed. She always knocks at his door with the key first, then waits for him to hide under the bed so that she doesn’t have to see him, hurries in, sets down the dish, and locks the door again on her way out.

Gregor’s mother, for her part, never visits him, for the rest of the family warns her that seeing him might be too emotionally distressing. Eventually, though, the sister and mother decide to clear out his room, figuring that, in his new form, he no longer needs furniture. That way, the cleaning woman can sweep more easily, and Gregor will have an empty space to scuttle around in. He is crouched under the bed, and the mother helps the sister carry the furniture out. But when they try to remove the pictures from the walls, intending to haul them out as well, Gregor emerges. He wants to save those pictures, since, as he puts it, he is afraid of losing his last ties to humanity if the room is left completely bare. So he plants himself on one of the pictures. His mother sees him and faints. The sister carries her out, then comes back, furious at Gregor, and raises her fist:

“You…Gregor!” she cried, her fist in the air and a piercing look in her eyes.

These are the first words she has spoken directly to him since his transformation—an outright threat. Afterward, Gregor doesn’t want to stay locked up anymore; he remains perched on the picture out of defiance but eventually decides he is still part of the family and does not wish to be shut off from them. He tries once more to leave his room so that they might recognize that he is still Gregor Samsa. Unfortunately, his father then comes home, and his sister shouts, “Father, Father—Gregor has broken out again!” Immediately, the father grabs apples from a fruit bowl and starts throwing them in rage. One apple simply bounces off Gregor’s shell, but the next one lodges itself in his back:

Gregor tried to drag himself further, as if the astonishing and unbelievable pain might vanish once he got to another spot. Yet he felt as though he were nailed to the floor. Only with a final look did he see his mother run to the father and beg him, imploring with outstretched arms, to spare Gregor’s life.

That apple remains stuck in Gregor’s back, causing an inflammation that grows increasingly severe, apparently damaging some nerves, too, for his legs on one side no longer move properly. Even his father begins to feel remorse—perhaps for going too far. A sense of familial duty reawakens in him:

Gregor’s severe injury seemed to have reminded the father that, despite Gregor’s current sad and revolting form, he remained a family member. And though Gregor had probably lost his mobility forever due to that wound, he felt his condition was adequately recompensed by the fact that, every evening, the door from his room into the living room was left open, so that, lying in the darkness of his room, he could watch the entire family sitting by the lit table and listen to their conversations.

But this small concession leads straight to catastrophe. One evening, Gregor’s sister is playing the violin beautifully, just as she used to do. Hearing it moves Gregor deeply—he is enchanted by the sound—and he ventures out of his room for the first time in a long while, carefully upright, wanting to approach her. He imagines confessing to her how enthralled he is by her music:

He was determined to get as far as his sister, to tug at her skirt so she would come into his room with her violin, for no one appreciated her playing as much as he did. And then he would tell her that he had planned, had the misfortune not befallen him, to send her to the Conservatory. Upon hearing this, she would be overwhelmed by tears of emotion, and Gregor would raise himself up to her shoulder and kiss her neck.

But it all goes wrong. The moment she sees Gregor approaching, she slaps her hand on the table to stop the violin’s sound. And that’s the turning point for the family. She addresses her parents, saying:

“Dear parents,” said the sister, striking the table with her hand, “this cannot go on any longer. I don’t even want to speak the name of this creature in front of me, so I’ll just say: we must try to get rid of it.”

The mother is distraught and has difficulty breathing, terrified that they might drive her son away or kill him. The father proposes perhaps talking with Gregor, making some arrangement for him to leave the apartment for good. But the sister insists there can be no half measures:

“It has to go, that is the only solution. If it were truly Gregor, he would have realized by now that living with a creature like this is impossible for humans. He would have gone away of his own accord.”

Gregor, stunned by his sister’s reaction—she was the one he most loved—doesn’t know how to respond. Exhausted, he drags himself back into his room. He notices that while going out there was oddly easy, every tiny step returning is an almost unbearable effort. Once inside, his legs finally give out. He collapses and dies. I’ll quote the text once more:

“The rotten apple in his back and the inflamed area surrounding it, entirely covered with fine dust, hardly bothered him anymore. He felt an overwhelming love and tenderness for his family. Indeed, his opinion that he should disappear was probably stronger than his sister’s. In this state of vacant and peaceful reflection, he remained until his head sank to the floor without his willing it—and he breathed his last.”

Early that morning, the cleaning woman came—always in a great hurry—stomped energetically into Gregor’s room, and, finding everything as it was, thought at first he lay there motionless on purpose, feigning sulkiness. She gave him no further thought and began to poke him with the end of her broom; and when she noticed he offered no resistance, she became interested. When she finally realized that he was completely stiff and lifeless, she opened her eyes wide, whistled softly, and went to the living-room door to call in a loud voice: “Look at that, it’s croaked; just lying there, all stifled up!”

Gregor’s father and mother sat upright in their beds, having slept in side-by-side beds; they had gotten up rather early, and for a few moments they just leaned back wordlessly into the pillows. Then Mr. Samsa said: “Well now we can give thanks to God.” He crossed himself, and so did Mrs. Samsa, and the sister, who had still been weeping, lifted herself from the chair. They agreed they must get rid of the remains immediately. Mr. Samsa told the cleaning woman she should see to it; and she, delighted at the prospect of doing something in that day’s hectic routine, grabbed her broom and began to push Gregor’s body here and there. Soon a couple of neighbors came by out in the stairwell, but she simply hissed at them, slammed the door shut, and then, as quietly as possible, cleared the body away.

The family then all left their apartment together, as they had not done for some time, and took the tram out to the open fields beyond the city. They discussed their finances and concluded that, despite all the recent hardships, they were in a good position and that, with a little more effort, they could improve their situation even further. The father and mother both noticed almost at the same time how their daughter, who had been so busy all this time, had blossomed of late—even into a beautiful and well-built girl. They fell silent and communicated nearly unconsciously with their glances, thinking it would soon be time to find her a good husband.

When they reached the end of their journey, the daughter sprang out of the tram first, stretching her young body. As she stood up, it was as if she wanted to show them all her new vitality. And it was in this moment that Mr. and Mrs. Samsa realized it was high time to seek a brighter future.

Note on the Text:
Franz Kafka’s Die Verwandlung was published in 1915. Kafka (1883–1924) died over one hundred years ago, placing the original German text in the public domain in most jurisdictions. This English rendering is a translation of the public-domain German text.

Analysis

Gregor Samsa experienced a significant blow of fate, which in this specific instance was his transformation into a insect. This transformation could be seen as a metaphor for another kind of blow, such as becoming bedridden due to illness and being unable to work. However, what followed is that Samsa did not accept his new reality. This non-acceptance of his situation led to further problems, as he continually tried to rejoin normal family life, despite the fact that the old normalcy no longer existed in this new reality.

His family is completely overwhelmed by the situation. It’s evident that they have no idea how to cope with it. The family can only muster so much compassion and understanding for the situation as they themselves fully comprehend it. However, their understanding of the situation is quite limited. Their love for Gregor is conditional—based on his ability to fulfill a societal role as a provider.

The father, for instance, reacts with anger. This anger is a sign that he is completely overwhelmed by the situation, indicating that he feels as helpless as Samsa himself. The mother is so overwhelmed by the situation that her usual maternal instincts towards her son are completely suppressed. She essentially defers to the family’s decisions and can no longer see her son as he once was. The sister responds with rejection and aversion. Since she looks to her parents as role models, and they are also overwhelmed by the situation, it’s not surprising that she reacts similarly. She has no one to show her an alternative way to handle the situation.

In an ideal world, Samsa would accept his fate as an insect, and his family would respond with compassion, supporting him as best they could. The family would see beyond Gregor’s physical form and acknowledging his unchanged true essence. However, as Kafka has depicted, the family is rather dysfunctional. It’s possible that generational trauma is still present within the characters, manifesting in their negative behavior. This is indeed a tragedy, and unfortunately, many families would likely handle such a situation in a similar manner even today.