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helen901 's review for:
The Metamorphosis
by Franz Kafka
Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis is not a story about a cockroach. It's a devastating, surreal allegory about dehumanization, familial rejection, and the cruelty of a utilitarian society. When Gregor Samsa wakes up as a giant bug (or Ungeziefer—a German term for "vermin" as the vagueness was intentional), he’s not just physically transformed; it is symbolic but socially erased. His worth, once tied to his ability to provide for his family, disintegrates as quickly as their tolerance for his existence.
Gregor worked a miserable, soul-crushing job as a traveling salesman, not because he liked it, but to pay off his family’s debts. He had no life, no joy, no choices. His existence was pure obligation. And the moment he can no longer perform? The moment he literally can't go to work? They all recoil. They shut the door. They let him rot.
Gregor’s family didn't love him — they loved what he did for them. He was loved in proportion to his productivity. Once that was gone, he became disposable. A burden. A thing to be hidden, like a dirty secret crawling under the bed. Gregor was socially and emotionally erased, little by little, once he stopped being “functional.” The moment he couldn’t, he became disposable.
That’s what hit me the hardest.
What makes Kafka’s story timeless is its ability to reflect our own fears: the fear of becoming a burden, of being seen as monstrous when we can no longer “perform” or “contribute.” Through Gregor, Kafka paints the alienation that many feel when they’re no longer deemed useful—whether due to illness, burnout, neurodivergence, or emotional exhaustion.
This isn’t a horror story about bugs, it's about dehumanization, familial neglect, the brutality of productivity culture, and what happens when your worth is measured by how useful you are
As kids we read it like, “oh nooo, he can’t go to work, lol.”
As adults, we realize: we are Gregor Samsa.
We’ve burned ourselves out. We've stayed in awful jobs because we had no choice. We've been erased by systems that reward us only when we’re “useful.” We’ve been abandoned the moment we couldn't perform.
This story doesn't scare you because it’s fantasy. It scares you because it’s true. And because it reminds us of how easy it is to be reduced to nothing in the eyes of those who once claimed to care.
Gregor worked a miserable, soul-crushing job as a traveling salesman, not because he liked it, but to pay off his family’s debts. He had no life, no joy, no choices. His existence was pure obligation. And the moment he can no longer perform? The moment he literally can't go to work? They all recoil. They shut the door. They let him rot.
Gregor’s family didn't love him — they loved what he did for them. He was loved in proportion to his productivity. Once that was gone, he became disposable. A burden. A thing to be hidden, like a dirty secret crawling under the bed. Gregor was socially and emotionally erased, little by little, once he stopped being “functional.” The moment he couldn’t, he became disposable.
That’s what hit me the hardest.
What makes Kafka’s story timeless is its ability to reflect our own fears: the fear of becoming a burden, of being seen as monstrous when we can no longer “perform” or “contribute.” Through Gregor, Kafka paints the alienation that many feel when they’re no longer deemed useful—whether due to illness, burnout, neurodivergence, or emotional exhaustion.
This isn’t a horror story about bugs, it's about dehumanization, familial neglect, the brutality of productivity culture, and what happens when your worth is measured by how useful you are
As kids we read it like, “oh nooo, he can’t go to work, lol.”
As adults, we realize: we are Gregor Samsa.
We’ve burned ourselves out. We've stayed in awful jobs because we had no choice. We've been erased by systems that reward us only when we’re “useful.” We’ve been abandoned the moment we couldn't perform.
This story doesn't scare you because it’s fantasy. It scares you because it’s true. And because it reminds us of how easy it is to be reduced to nothing in the eyes of those who once claimed to care.