![]() The essays aim to provide a background to the title and author that is an historical, cultural, and biographical foundation for the reader. It represents being neglected and otherwise abused, so that an understandable response is to notice people like the reader (whoever that reader may be) undergoing a similar fate.Įach Critical Insights is divided into four sections:Īn Introduction on the book and the author The Metamorphosis is certainly not a literal portrait of anything. Another essay shows quite coherently how The Metamorphosis protagonists' absolutely overmatched, hopeless struggle resembles the plight of homosexuals a la Freud. This Critical Insight considers the impact Kafka's work has had on the Nobel-Prize Winner, Ellie Wiesel and his Night. So much has been written about or inspired by The Metamorphosis that this volume appropriately provides not merely essential data about it but also an understanding of how it has been affecting readers. Largely through The Metamorphosis the very name of Kafka is so well known "Kafkaesque" has become a general adjective. The story is a psychological catalyst, transforming whoever contacts it, therefore always different, always up to date. Other essays include a discussion of structure, cultural and historical contexts, Kafka's metaphor for extreme alienation, and a survey of the work's critical reception.Īpproximately a hundred years ago, Franz Kafka composed his most famous novella, The Metamorphosis. Other traveling salesmen live like harem women.This volume includes a biography which warns that, although The Metamorphosis is considered semi-autobiographical, it is ultimately a work of imagination. ‘This getting up early,’ he thought, ‘makes a man quite idiotic. He slid back again into his earlier position. But he retracted it immediately, for the contact felt like a cold shower all over him. He slowly pushed himself on his back closer to the bed post so that he could lift his head more easily, found the itchy part, which was entirely covered with small white spots (he did not know what to make of them), and wanted to feel the place with a leg. To hell with it all!’ He felt a slight itching on the top of his abdomen. The stresses of trade are much greater than the work going on at head office, and, in addition to that, I have to deal with the problems of traveling, the worries about train connections, irregular bad food, temporary and constantly changing human relationships which never come from the heart. ![]() ‘O God,’ he thought, ‘what a demanding job I’ve chosen! Day in, day out on the road. He must have tried it a hundred times, closing his eyes, so that he would not have to see the wriggling legs, and gave up only when he began to feel a light, dull pain in his side which he had never felt before. No matter how hard he threw himself onto his right side, he always rolled again onto his back. But this was entirely impractical, for he was used to sleeping on his right side, and in his present state he couldn’t get himself into this position. ‘Why don’t I keep sleeping for a little while longer and forget all this foolishness,’ he thought. The dreary weather (the rain drops were falling audibly down on the metal window ledge) made him quite melancholy. Gregor’s glance then turned to the window. ![]() She sat erect there, lifting up in the direction of the viewer a solid fur muff into which her entire forearm disappeared. It was a picture of a woman with a fur hat and a fur boa. Above the table, on which an unpacked collection of sample cloth goods was spread out (Samsa was a traveling salesman) hung the picture which he had cut out of an illustrated magazine a little while ago and set in a pretty gilt frame. ![]() His room, a proper room for a human being, only somewhat too small, lay quietly between the four well-known walls. His numerous legs, pitifully thin in comparison to the rest of his circumference, flickered helplessly before his eyes. From this height the blanket, just about ready to slide off completely, could hardly stay in place. He lay on his armour-hard back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his brown, arched abdomen divided up into rigid bow-like sections. One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that in bed he had been changed into a monstrous verminous bug. ![]()
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