Danny Sample, Editor-in-Chief

Many people say that the after taste upon finishing “The Metamorphosis” is one of isolation, extreme depravity, and utter hopelessness in the face of a world largely indifferent to human affairs, which is made no better by the abstract ostracism many humans experience once they find their inner feelings and motivations do not exactly match the pre-determined mold of whatever society they try to seek refuge within.

I for one disagree with these people. Is “The Metamorphosis” an uplifting tale of unicorns and gumdrops and princes and princesses riding into the sunset to live their happy ending? No. It is a very real tale that deals with many nihilist philosophies that all people struggle their whole lives with and for the most part, never truly come to grips with in the end. However, the take away should not be one of extreme moroseness. No, rather, in my eyes, if Franz Kafka, a person stricken with acute psychoses and abused for a great deal of his life by his own father, can find the inner strength to expose such truth and commit his eternal anguish to the page in the hope that it may comfort other lost souls, then his treatise on the human condition should not solicit feelings of depression and hopelessness, but rather act as a magnificent beacon of hope.

In actuality, “The Metamorphosis” was a comforting work for me as I saw that yes, the world and human affairs lack rational order and the universe is indifferent to what outcomes may befall the human race, but we as humans are not to bear this terrifying realization alone. We are one in this isolated and absurd world. And for his efforts, Kafka was a conquering hero who has sadly been regarded by many as nothing more than a maniac armed with a few literary tricks and a notebook. But I will always see him for the brave pioneer he really was.