The story of the man who wakes up as a giant beetle

Imagine you are a writer trying to come up with a premise for your next short story.  You draft a list of ideas, some admittedly better than others.  Still, I bet you that the very last thing on that list would be “the story of the man who wakes up as a giant beetle.”  How did that idea even make it to your list in the first place?  Did your five-year-old brother get into your desk again?

But Franz Kafka uses this very premise for his novella The Metamorphosis.  It was a gutsy move (get it?), but you gotta hand it to the guy.

The Metamorphosis may not have all the linguistic play of Winnie the Pooh, but you can add this story to Jocelyn’s nonsense genre.  Not only is Gregor's metamorphosis into a giant beetle completely irrational and unprovoked, but Gregor is ironically far more preoccupied with the bad weather, missing work, and his physical discomfort than explaining or resolving the problem at hand.

On the other hand, Gregor’s metamorphosis sometimes takes on symbolic significance for the alienation that he feels at work.  After his transformation, Gregor is kept in his room with the door closed and almost no contact with the outside world.  Compare that to the way he describes his work as a traveling salesman: a “steady stream of faces who never become acquaintances.”

Another symbol in the story is a picture of a woman in furs that Gregor had cut out of a magazine and framed.  It symbolizes Gregor’s former humanity, and he desperately salvages the frame when his mother and sister are clearing out his room to turn it into a more suitable crawl space.  The picture’s model is described with the following imagery: “…a lady, sitting upright, dressed in a fur hat and fur boa; her entire forearm had vanished into a thick fur muff which she held out to the viewer.”  The lady sounds kind of like an animal to me, not unlike Gregor.  But where Gregor is shunned and neglected for his transformation, the model is admired and regarded attractive.  ...Even more nonsensical irony for you.

I also found out that there is a dance-theatre adaptation of the The Metamorphosis.

I imagine that watching a live actor dance the part of a giant beetle would really add to the story's absurdity.  I’d love to see it someday.

Because who doesn’t have those days that make them feel like a beetle.  Or a peacock,

...or maybe an ostrich.

(But seriously, I would make a great otter, amirite?)