Kafka's The Metamorphosis is one weird trip. I suppose I should elaborate.

Prior to reading the story, I had been told that the 1986 film The Fly with Jeff Goldblum could be traced to this earlier narrative. More so, reading this felt as unnerving as being stuck in a Salvador Dali painting, or perhaps even more specifically it tonally resonated with David Lynch's 1977 film Eraserhead.

By that I mean at it's core the plot is deeply unsettling, for starters. The narrative unravels like a dream (nightmare) in that weird things happen, and everyone responds to newly emerging contextual logic in stride. Primarily though, both the film and book offer deconstructions of the innate toxicity social expectations can wreak on naturally flawed people.

As bizarre as Gregor Samsa's life is, it is ultimately one of isolation and tragedy. Something inexplicable happens that removes him from his place in society, and his family is unable to properly adapt to his reality. Instead they live around him, and can only move forward when they can pretend he is not there. That's super sad, even if Gregor is an insect monster with an apple rotting in his decaying flesh.

If the surreal unsettles you, this one probably is not for you. However, if you are open to something different, there is a great deal of aesthetic value in this weird, unpleasant tale.