“Aphorisms” by Franz Kafka (translated by Willa Muir, Edwin Muir, and Michael Hofmann)

In this collection of aphorisms, Kafka sets down some riddles to live by. Or, at least, to try to wrap your mind around. How many are worth a ponder? “A cage went in search of a bird.” What does that even mean? When a metaphor is so obscure does it have any worth? Or is it not obscure at all for those capable of an esoteric reading? “Leopards break into the temple and drink all the sacrificial vessels dry; it keeps happening; in the end, it can be calculated in advance and is incorporated into the ritual.” Is this a comment on organized religion? Or on the origins of religion? Sometimes his comments can strike the reader as a truism. “Grasp the good fortune that the ground on which you stand cannot be any bigger than the two feet planted on it.” Or a humorous jab at the commonality of man. “It is inconceivable that Alexander the Great—for all the military successes of his youth, for all the excellence of the army he trained, for all the desire he felt in himself to change the world—might have stopped at the Hellespont, and never crossed it, and not out of fear, not out of indecisiveness, not out of weakness of will, but from heavy legs.” Sometimes Kafka just gives helpful guidance. “Dealings with people bring about self-scrutiny.” He ends with this friendly advice, “It isn’t necessary that you leave home. Sit at your desk and listen. Don’t even listen, just wait. Don’t wait, be still and alone. The whole world will offer itself to you to be unmasked, it can do no other, it will writhe before you in ecstasy.”

“The Metamorphosis” by Franz Kafka (translated by Willa Muir and Edwin Muir)

Kafka’s most famous short story begins with the classic line, “As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.” The story takes place entirely in the Samsa apartment, in which Gregor’s parents and younger sister also live. Much of the tale takes place inside Gregor’s head, as he tries to fully inhabit the being of an insect, while trying to disturb his family as little as possible. This will prove hard to do. After all, they understandably find his new body disgusting. They speak about him as if he can no longer understand them. Of course, he cannot speak in a human tongue anymore to tell them that he does indeed comprehend. Eventually, Gregor gets used to his new form. “For mere recreation he had formed the habit of crawling crisscross over the walls and ceiling. He especially enjoyed hanging suspended from the ceiling; it was much better than lying on the floor; one could breath more feely; one’s body swung and rocked lightly.” Soon, Gregor finds out how tightly bound family bonds actually are. “Grete’s words had succeeded in disquieting her mother, who took a step to one side, caught sight of the huge brown mass on the flowered wallpaper, and before she was really conscious that what she saw was Gregor, screamed in a loud, hoarse voice: “Oh God, oh God!” fell with outspread arms over the sofa as if giving up, and did not move. “Gregor!” cried his sister, shaking her fist and glaring at him. This was the first time she had directly addressed him since his metamorphosis.”