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The Metamorphosis (Bantam Classics)

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    ¡°Kafka¡¯s survey of the insectile situation of young Jews in inner Bohemia can hardly be improved upon: ¡®With their posterior legs they were still glued to their father¡¯s Jewishness and with their wavering anterior legs they found no new ground.¡¯ There is a sense in which Kafka¡¯s Jewish question (¡®What have I in common with Jews?¡¯) has become everybody¡¯s question, Jewish alienation the template for all our doubts. What is Muslimness? What is femaleness? What is Polishness? These days we all find our anterior legs flailing before us. We¡¯re all insects, all Ungeziefer, now.¡±
    -Zadie Smith

    ¡°Kafka engaged in no technical experiments whatsoever; without in any way changing the German language, he stripped it of its involved constructions until it became clear and simple, like everyday speech purified of slang and negligence. The common experience of Kafka¡¯s readers is one of general and vague fascination, even in stories they fail to understand, a precise recollection of strange and seemingly absurd images and descriptions?until one day the hidden meaning reveals itself to them with the sudden evidence of a truth simple and incontestable.¡±
    -Hannah Arendt

    ¸ñÂ÷

    Introduction xi
    Stanley Corngold
    THE METAMORPHOSIS 1 (60)
    Stanley Corngold
    A Note on the Text 59 (2)
    EXPLANATORY NOTES TO THE TEXT 61 (42)
    DOCUMENTS 103(10)
    Letter by Franz Kafka to Max Brod, October 105(4)
    8, 1912
    Sokel's Comments 107(2)
    Two Conversations between Kafka and Gustav 109(2)
    Janouch, 1920-1923
    Kafka to his Father, November 1919 111(1)
    Entries in Kafka's Diaries 111(2)
    CRITICAL ESSAYS 113(82)
    Wilhelm Emrich
    Franz Kafka 115(18)
    Ralph Freedman
    Kafka's Obscurity 133(5)
    Edwin Honig
    The Making of Allegory 138(5)
    Max Bense
    Kafka's Conception (Thematik) of Being 143(4)
    Hellmuth Kaiser
    Kafka's Fantasy of Punishment 147(10)
    Peter Dow Webster
    Franz Kafka's "Metamorphosis" as a Death 157(12)
    and Resurrection Fantasy
    Walter H. Sokel
    Education for Tragedy 169(18)
    Friedrich Beissner
    The Writer Franz Kafka 187(2)
    Friedrich Beissner
    Kafka the Poet 189(3)
    Commentary 191(1)
    Hellmut Richter
    "The Metamorphosis" 192(3)
    Selected Bibliography 195

    º»¹®Áß¿¡¼­

    EXCERPT

    CHAPTER 1

    When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin. He was lying on his back as hard as armor plate, and when he lifted his head a little, he saw his vaulted brown belly, sectioned by arch-shaped ribs, to whose dome the cover, about to slide off completely, could barely cling. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, were waving helplessly before his eyes.

    "What's happened to me?" he thought. It was no dream. His room, a regular human room, only a little on the small side, lay quiet between the four familiar walls. Over the table, on which an unpacked line of fabric samples was all spread out--Samsa was a traveling salesman--hung the picture which he had recently cut out of a glossy magazine and lodged in a pretty gilt frame. It showed a lady done up in a fur hat and a fur boa, sitting upright and raising up against the viewer a heavy fur muff in which her whole forearm had disappeared.

    Gregor's eyes then turned to the window, and the overcast weather--he could hear raindrops hitting against the metal window ledge--completely depressed him. "How about going back to sleep for a few minutes and forgetting all this nonsense," he thought, but that was completely impracticable, since he was used to sleeping on his right side and in his present state could not get into that position. No matter how hard he threw himself onto his right side, he always rocked onto his back again. He must have tried it a hundred times, closing his eyes so as not to have to see his squirming legs, and stopped only when he began to feel a slight, dullpain in his side, which he had never felt before.

    "Oh God," he thought, "what a grueling job I've picked! Day in, day out--on the road. The upset of doing business is much worse than the actual business in the home office, and, besides, I've got the torture of traveling, worrying about changing trains, eating miserable food at all hours, constantly seeing new faces, no relationships that last or get more intimate. To the devil with it all!" He felt a slight itching up on top of his belly; shoved himself slowly on his back closer to the bedpost, so as to be able to lift his head better; found the itchy spot, studded with small white dots which he had no idea what to make of; and wanted to touch the spot with one of his legs but immediately pulled it back, for the contact sent a cold shiver through him.

    He slid back again into his original position. "This getting up so early," he thought, "makes anyone a complete idiot. Human beings have to have their sleep. Other traveling salesmen live like harem women. For instance, when I go back to the hotel before lunch to write up the business I've done, these gentlemen are just having breakfast. That's all I'd have to try with my boss; I'd be fired on the spot. Anyway, who knows if that wouldn't be a very good thing for me. If I didn't hold back for my parents' sake, I would have quit long ago, I would have marched up to the boss and spoken my piece from the bottom of my heart. He would have fallen off the desk! It is funny, too, the way he sits on the desk and talks down from the heights to the employees, especially when they have to come right up close on account of the boss's being hard of hearing. Well, I haven't given up hope completely; once I've gotten the money together to pay off my parents' debt to him--that will probably take another five or six years--I'm going to do it without fail. Then I'm going to make the big break. But for the time being I'd better get up, since my train leaves at five."

    Ã¥¼Ò°³

    ¡°When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin.¡±

    With this startling, bizarre, yet surprisingly funny first sentence, Kafka begins his masterpiece, The Metamorphosis. It is the story of a young man who, transformed overnight into a giant beetlelike insect, becomes an object of disgrace to his family, an outsider in his own home, a quintessentially alienated man. A harrowing-though absurdly comic-meditation on human feelings of inadequacy, guilt, and isolation, The Metamorphosis has taken its place as one of the most widely read and influential works of twentieth-century fiction.

    As W.H. Auden wrote, ¡°Kafka is important to us because his predicament is the predicament of modern man.¡±

    ÀúÀÚ¼Ò°³

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