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kuronekonya wrote: ↑07 Dec 2017, 02:27

ChristopherRadebaugh wrote: ↑19 May 2017, 02:28 I love this story. There is something in this story I identify with on a deep level. There is so much to say about it. First, the book, for me, underscores the absurdity of existence and prefigures the work of Albert Camus and Jean Paul Sartre. Gregor's transformation is taken in stride by nearly every character. No one acts as though this is something that is impossible. How do we react to the profound philosophical absurdities of life? One could do worse than emulating Gregor. He is soft-hearted, loving and caring towards those close to him, and attempts to handle the absurdities as best he can and hold on to his humanity, even as the world tries to strip it away from him. His simple kindness is the only thing he has left at the end of the book. His death is a final act of love toward his family, who will never recognize it for what it was. It was purely selfless. This theme is complicated, however, by the very idea that it takes the sacrifice of someone so loving to bring about the transformation of his family toward a better future. I am tempted here to say that this is a critique of Christianity. How could anyone feel anything resembling joy and happiness knowing that the cost of his or her salvation was only possible through the death of someone completely innocent? How could I, if I want to truly be a moral person, want anything other than to reject such a gift, knowing what it cost? How could I take myself seriously and also want to condone such a plan? Dostoevsky (who Kafka greatly admired) put it thus in his novel, The Brothers Karamazov:

I have always found myself drawn to selfless characters, and inevitably found myself drawn to Gregor for the same reason you described here. At the same time however, I was also exasperated, because this poor young man was so used to be used, and so used to feeling useful, that the lack of this purpose ultimately led him to accept death. I think it's because I'm naturally a vengeful and independent person, and I admire that quality of selflessness and forgiveness that I don't really possess. At the same time, I wouldn't have done what Gregor had done. I might have, out of pure spite, chased and destroyed the family that chose to abandon me the moment I ceased to be "useful". It was so frustrating to see him fret about making the later train when he first transformed. As if that's the main problem, Gregor!

(Ivan asks his brother, the pious Alyosha): "Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last, but that it was essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature — that baby beating its breast with its fist, for instance — and to found that edifice on its unavenged tears, would you consent to be the architect on those conditions? Tell me, and tell the truth.”
(Alyosha): “No, I wouldn’t consent,” said Alyosha softly.
(Ivan): “And can you admit the idea that men for whom you are building it would agree to accept their happiness on the foundation of the unexpiated blood of a little victim? And accepting it would remain happy for ever?”
(Alyosha): “No, I can’t admit it."


This is one of the most powerful critiques of Christianity I have ever heard and quite compelling (and let's not forget that Dostoevsky was a fervent Christian): that whatever end God has in mind, the price to be paid that one must consent to in order to receive it is far too high for any being who considers himself or herself to be moral to agree to.

What you quoted here is the central theme to Ursula K. LeGuin's, The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas. It's a short story and leaves off with that very question, and if you are interested in stories that explore that moral dilemma I recommend it very highly. Ironically though, it criticizes literature and art for its constant fascination with pain and evil, and I found myself reflecting on that for a good long while.

Kafka is a great writer. I highly recommend his work. And if you don't agree with my opinion, it's no big deal, there are enough interpretations of his story to conflict heavily with mine, I'm sure. Sorry for the long-winded response, but I hope it's helpful.

-Chris

I think that Kafka's stories really resonate more as an adult, when you've experienced real life absurdity. I know that I appreciated The Trial a lot more after analyzing the door scene, and reading about the cruelty of Guantanamo Bay. Since I will now probably have to teach one of Kafka's work, it's just as well that I have learned to like him (I didn't as a teen. I'm now twice that age).

Rachel Gough wrote: ↑24 Mar 2014, 20:41 With that said, tell me your interpretations of the story, and how it made you feel. Did you enjoy it, or like me, did you hate it? Was this a story that can resonate with people on a psychological/emotional level? Finally, is this a timeless work of fiction?