human in an un-human wayWhat struck me while I was reading
The Metamorphosis was the ease with which Gregor accepted his new form. Never once in the story does he lament his new form and desire for his transformation to be reversed. He seems to accept it, right from the start, and instead, begins to start adapting to his new form immediately. For instance, soon after he discovers the transformation, he begins experimenting with ways by which he can get out of bed, unhurt and get ready for work. This brings me to my second observation about Gregor Samsa - the prevalence of a human mental and emotional complex. That is, despite the overt un-human physical form, his mental and emotional state remains, surprisingly, human. For example, "his immediate intention was to get up quietly without being disturbed, to put on his clothes and above all eat his breakfast." When I read this I was amazed. Did Gregor
really believe he could do all these things? Even though he has been changed into an
"ungeheur Ungeziefer" he believes he can still perform all these human tasks. Presumably he also assumes that his family and other humans around him will respond to him ordinarily.
This is what makes
The Metamorphosis poignant. Gregor, in his outwardly un-human form, is in fact, as the story proceeds, shown to be the most 'human' of the characters. His heart is for his family, but yet his outer form belies this 'human' within. And in an ironic reversal of roles, this
"ungeheur Ungeziefer" is viewed by the humans as the parasite in the family, posing a constant nuisance to their social and financial advancement. Yet they have been the real parasites, feeding on Gregor's hard-earned pay, relying on him to settle their financial burdens.
It is also interesting how and why Kafka chooses to use the image and creature of a monstrous vermin or "gigantic insect". He might have chosen other animals, might he not? I believe it is perhaps because he aims to defamiliarise our common attitudes towards such creatures. Most humans respond with negative attitudes of disgust, horror, fear and contempt towards insects. Thus in using such an image for Gregor's transformation, he draws on familiar, pre-established notions within his readers, and emphasises the need to reassess our attitudes and responses. Are we like the Samsa family, or do we have the ability for empathy? Not for insects and other creepy crawlies, but for others which we treat with similar bias. That is my interpretation at least.
The use of a monstrous vermin, a creature with few endearing features, also heightens our sensitivity to the text. It problematizes our criticism of the Samsa family, because, definitely, some of their attitudes echo ours. Are we not equally culpable? Did we not, like Gregor's sister, fear the gigantic insect and slam the door in his face, so to speak, in our minds?
Finally, my reading of modernist writers in the "Twentieth Century" module has given me certain ideas. I wonder if they can be applied. I am reminded of Stephen's famous remark in James Joyce's "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man":
"the artist forging anew in his workshop out of the sluggish matter of the earth a new soaring impalpable imperishable being?"In addition, it brings to mind Joyce's "Ulysses", where he deals with the "sluggish matter [s] of the earth", such as the lowly bodily functions of excretion, urinating, and sexual intercourse et cetera. Kafka, in my opinion, seems to be doing something similar. Is there a connection? That he is imbuing the commonly perceived notions of lowly, "sluggish matter[s]" (the parasite and pest,
"ungeheur Ungeziefer")
with an artistic and aesthetic significance?
I shall ponder.
Kafka, the enigma (it rhymes!)Reading Kafka is a refreshingly new experience for me. Recently while preparing for my midterm on "Twentieth Century", I came across some notes which listed Franz Kafka as one of the writers of the Modernist Period! Interesting, I thought. And so far, after reading two of his short stories,
The Metamorphosis and
In the Penal Colony, I find him a very thought-provoking writer. His stories also seem rather elusive, and I am inclined to think of him as an enigma of some sorts :) This enigmatic quality seems to extend to his writing.
For instance, as Dr Yeo mentioned, he writes, "
The Metamorphosis is not a confession, although it is - in a certain sense - an indiscretion." That's very clever, I thought. And in Week 8's
spiel, as Dr Yeo is so fond of calling it, Theodore Adorno presents more mysterious statements about Kafka: "Each sentence is literal and each signifies...Each sentence says 'interpret me', and none will permit it."
Certainly, though, what impressed me was Kafka's passion for writing. Writing, for him,
is, a bodily experience. His whole body, mind and soul seem to participate, in as much as they can, in writing. He possesses a strong bodily impulse to writing which amazes and, at the same time, impresses me:
"It is easy to recognize a concentration in me of all my forces on writing. When it became clear in my organism that writing was the most productive direction for my being to take, everything rushed in that direction and left empty all those abilities which were directed toward the joy of sex, eating, drinking, philosophical reflection and above all music. I dieted in all these directions..." (Pg 94, Anderson)
And his absolute passion for literature: "I have no literary interests, but am made of literature. I am nothing else, and cannot be anything else." (Pg 95, Anderson)
I believe that Kafka's elusive nature is perhaps due to his desire to escape concrete classification, to escape mere simple categorisation or analyses of his short stories. Thus we are unable to put definite or absolute meanings to his symbols. The bug which is Gregor remains a mere mysterious vermin of some sort; we are not given specificities. The apparatus of torture can be visualised as one pleases; only the vaguest, most general outlines are provided. Such schemes of writing de-familiarise our common attempts to 'box' things into maneagable categories. Kafka seems to want us to keep our minds open to what he has to offer.
just a little diversion, but it's related to literature ;D
In my not so humble opinion, you, of course, belong
in the Picture of Dorian Gray, and do not try
to deny it. You belong in the fashionable
circles of Victorian London where exotic
tastes, a double life, decadence, wit and a
hypocritical belief in moral betterment make
you a home. You belong where the witty
apothegms of Lords, the silly moralities of
matrons, the blinding high of opium, and the
beauty of visual arts mingle to form one
convoluted world.
Which Classic Novel do You Belong In?brought to you by Quizilla
I must get this book! Have yet to read it. :)
Under the Skin (part 2)
The ending of the book seems optimistic and hopeful, in my opinion. I believe Isserley has begun to feel for the "vodsels" she captures. The last hitcher, for instance, shares with Isserley a similarly dysfunctional life. We aren't given the details, but there seems to be some hint of how he is a startling parallel of Isserley:
"Even as he was strapping himself in, the hitcher was thinking there was still time to change his mind. What on earth was the point of going through with this? Why not just get right out of the car, go right back where he'd come from, and keep his...his poison to himself?There was something so sick about doing this day after day, going out on the road and seeing if he could trap some poor sucker into giving him a lift. Then, as soon as he had a captive audience, of course he would let them have it, right in the guts, right between the eyes, always the same thing..." (276)
"Maybe he'd behave differently with this one, because she was a girl...But fat chance. He'd let her have it like all the others. Until something happened to make him stop." (277)
And yet as they continue the ride in the car, I believe there is a mutual recognition, soul-to-soul, of a fellow being in desperation, in isolation, in desolation:
"Isserley looked him straight in the eyes. They were shiny with unwept tears, and she could see a tiny Isserley reflected in each one." (284)
It is moving. And he had decided against harming her, requesting to alight earlier. Yet the isolation of the two stricken individuals is made forever complete, when, despite their mutual bond, Isserley still chooses the icpathua toggle. But, for the first time, we see that she is moved. For the first time she feels, not remorse, but something towards remorse, for the captured "vodsels". "I understand", she says. "I'm sorry", she whispers.
Under the Skin
I thought this was a really powerful book. Seldom do I come across a book which I simply cannot put down. And
Under the Skin is more than a captivating narrative - it reverberates and resonates with me. The issues it tackles are various and complex, such that, I hardly know where to begin a discussion of them. Moreover, Faber's beautiful narrative invites deep engagement with the story and its characters, an engagement which also provokes the thoughts and minds of his readers long after the book is put down.
First, the book is grotesque. It contains a grotesque twist - the reversal of roles of "human" and "animal". What struck me first was the horror of realisation that Isserley, was in fact not "human", as assumed through much of the book, but an ape-like, fur-covered, four-legged species which called themselves "human beings". And they consumed "vodsels" who were the real human beings. The discovery of this fact is also particularly thrilling. It is like reading an action thriller, or a treasure hunt, where little clues are revealed along the way. I also remembered, distinctly, that Faber does not tell us what is done to the captured "vodsels" until late in the book. The suspense was immense; I was left wondering at the end of each capture what the men did to those "vodsels" they carried out.
My initial fascination was with the discovery of this alien species, something akin to the human tendency of gawking at freaks. More importantly, I began to feel for Isserley. The book invites us into the thoughts of Isserley right from the start, and I believe this has a huge part to play in generating our sympathy for her. And there is so much one can sympathise with her - hers is a painful life indeed.
The novel also raises issues on the physical appearance of women; women who continue, despite the advancement of society, to be viewed and often perused as sex objects. We are objects of the male gaze; Isserley's breasts are fashioned to please the male gaze. And it is true! Many of my male friends admit that this particular female feature bears much attraction. It surprised me how much power Isserley seemed to wield - you have got to admit, the role of lurer and temptor has some degree of attraction, because of the postition of 'power' it entails. But while we think we are the ones holding the gaze, the rape of Isserley causes it all to come crashing down. Once again, I saw with distinct clarity, how women are vulnerable, that our physical appearance can be a prized attribute and yet a dangerous flaw which renders us virtually helpless.
Even in Isserley's species, female physical attributes also wield some sort of power. The same precarious balance of female sexuality is present. She reminisces about her soft fur, her beautiful hair, and in a moving encounter with Unser, laments the very absence of these, "The parts of a woman's face she could have used to plead with him, to implore him without words, had all been removed or mutilated. Only her eyes remained. They shone brightly as she gazed unblinking through space." (228)
- end of part 1 (there is too much to post in one setting!)-
to be continued.
