The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka: Summary, Bright Episodes & Review

An article about Franz Kafka’s "The Metamorphosis": a clear summary of the plot, explanation of hidden symbols, and modern reasons to read the book. Find out why the story of Gregor Samsa is not just a nightmare about an insect, but a reflection of human fears, cruelty, and the search for identity. Read an analysis that will help you understand Kafka’s genius and the disturbing questions raised in the story.

The cover of the book "The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka

The Metamorphosis: Summary

Imagine this: you wake up one morning after a troubled sleep and discover that you’ve turned… into a huge, disgusting insect. This is how the terrifying morning begins for Gregor Samsa, a humble traveling salesman in Franz Kafka’s story "The Metamorphosis." It’s not a bad dream that will disappear with the sunrise — it’s his new, horrifying reality.

Gregor’s first thought isn’t about his monstrous new body — it’s that he’s late for his train! He has to support his family: a father who lost all his money and has become weak and bitter, a mother with asthma who is always worried, and his young sister Grete, who still dreams of going to music school. Gregor is the only one bringing in money, and this responsibility weighs on him more than his new shell. He tries to get out of bed, slide down to the floor, open his door with his twisted insect legs... It’s painfully hard, ridiculous, and humiliating. And now the manager from his office is knocking at the door — Gregor didn’t show up for work. His family is alarmed. They don’t understand what’s happening.

When the door finally opens and the family sees “it,” their reaction is exactly what you’d expect: fear, disgust, and panic. The manager runs away in terror. Gregor’s father suddenly changed from a tired old man into a fierce protector of the family, forcing Gregor back into his room, hurting him by accident. The door slams shut. This is the beginning of Gregor’s confinement.

The first few days are full of shock and chaos for everyone. But slowly, life in the Samsa household begins to adjust to its new “resident.” Gregor’s room turns into a storage space filled with useless things. His care is taken over by Grete — she brings him food (he’s now only interested in old, rotten scraps), and she cleans his room, though with growing fear and disgust. Despite his insect body, Gregor still has a human mind, thoughts, and feelings. He hears conversations through the door and understands that the family is desperate without his income. He feels guilty, ashamed of how he looks, and deeply misses his old life. He tries to help in small ways, like hiding under the sofa when Grete comes in, so he doesn’t scare her.

The family’s financial situation gets worse and worse. They have to sell their family heirlooms and start renting out a room to lodgers. The father and mother find small, low-paying jobs, and Grete begins working as a salesgirl. They all become more tired, angry, and emotionally distant. Gregor, who was once the center of their world (or rather, their comfort), is now a burden — a source of shame and fear. His presence becomes unbearable, especially when he accidentally frightens the lodgers or when Grete declares that “this” is no longer Gregor, just a creature that needs to be gotten rid of.

Gregor’s physical condition gets worse. He barely eats, grows weaker, and becomes covered in dust and dirt. An apple, thrown at him in anger by his father, is still stuck in his back and has become infected. He turns into a shadow in his room.

One night, after overhearing a conversation, especially Grete’s cruel words about how they need to get rid of “it,” Gregor fully realizes how completely he has been rejected. His love for his family has become a heavy burden for them. And so, in the quiet of the night, filled with a strange sense of peace and gentle sadness, he dies. In the morning, they find him dried up, almost weightless.

Gregor’s death doesn’t bring the family sorrow — it brings relief. They write letters to their employers, quitting their jobs, and for the first time in a long while, they go out together for a walk in the sunshine. They talk about the future and about new opportunities for Grete. It seems they are ready to start over, free from the heavy burden of Gregor’s “metamorphosis.”

The ending leaves a bitter sense of irony: their freedom came only through the disappearance of the one who had once supported them, but who became their nightmare. And as the tram carries them into the city — seemingly toward hope — the reader is left with a troubling question: what if their new “normal” future is built on the same kind of absurdity and cruelty as the past they had with Gregor the insect?

Bright Episodes and Hidden Symbols

"The Metamorphosis" is not just a story about a man who turns into an insect. It’s a rich tapestry of unforgettable scenes and symbols that can be interpreted in countless ways. Kafka doesn’t give clear answers — instead, he creates a space filled with unsettling questions.

• The apple in the back: One of the most physical and creepy moments in the story. When the angry father, trying to protect his family from the “monster,” throws apples at Gregor, one gets stuck in his soft, hard shell and becomes infected. This is more than just a wound. The apple is a biblical symbol of the fall from grace, of knowing good and evil. What did the Samsa family “learn”? Their fear, disgust, and cruelty? Or did Gregor “sin” by becoming a burden? The apple turns into a rotting metaphor for the irreversible break, the core of guilt (whose guilt?), and the pain that Gregor carries until his death. I’ve always been struck by this terrible “accident” — a simple act of violence that turns into unbearable suffering.

• Grete’s music: The scene where Grete plays the violin for the lodgers, and Gregor, drawn by the sound, crawls out of his room, is one of the most moving and tragic moments. For Gregor, his sister’s music is the last glimpse of beauty and humanity, a reminder of her dreams. He wants to come closer, to protect her talent from the uncaring lodgers. But his appearance causes only panic and failure. The violin is a symbol of fragile art and the soul, which Grete might give up to save the family, just like they sold their belongings. And the reaction to Gregor confirms the truth: his human heart, his love and longing, are invisible under the shell. His attempt to touch something beautiful becomes his last public humiliation.

• The door — a boundary between worlds: Gregor’s room door is not just wood and hinges. It’s a barrier between the family’s “normal” world and the absurd world where he is banished. At first, it is sometimes opened a little (when Grete brings food) and sometimes slammed shut (by the father). Gregor often sits under the sofa or behind the door, listening. He is a prisoner at this boundary, cut off both physically and mentally. Gradually, the door opens less and less. In the end, after Gregor’s death, the maid throws it wide open, letting out the “plague” and letting fresh air in — a symbol of the family’s freedom from their nightmare. The door is a silent witness to Gregor’s invisibility and isolation.

• The family’s transformation at the end: Kafka’s irony reaches its peak not in Gregor’s change, but in the final scene. After his death, the family feels obvious relief and goes out of the city. They look younger and talk about Grete’s bright future and new chances. The father seems strong, the mother looks healthy. This is their metamorphosis — freed from Gregor’s burden, they can “straighten their shoulders” and find hope. But the reader wonders: have they become something strange and foreign? Their “rebirth” comes at the cost of their sons' and brothers’ deaths, and their new “normal” seems as absurd and cruel as Gregor’s insect life. Kafka leaves us with a bitter feeling: monstrosity can be very human.

Why read "The Metamorphosis"?

"The Metamorphosis" is not just a dark story from the early 20th century. It’s a book that, like a mirror, reflects fears and worries that still feel familiar to us today, a hundred years later. Why does it deserve a place on your shelf (and in your mind)?

• A look into the abyss of absurdity living in everyday life: Kafka masterfully shows how a nightmare breaks into the routine, waking up, being late for work, and family worries. This is his genius. We all know the weight of responsibility, the fear of disappointing others, the feeling of being just a “small cog.” Gregor’s story is an exaggeration of these feelings. As we read, we can’t help but imagine wearing his shell: “What if I suddenly become unwanted? Misunderstood? Don’t fit in?” The book reveals how fragile our “normal” world is and the deep loneliness that can appear between people overnight. It’s a powerful wake-up call against complacency.

• Language for the inexpressible: Kafka found words for things often without a name — existential anxiety, a heavy guilt with no clear cause, painful misunderstanding from those closest to us. His “insect” is not a species but a symbol of an inner state: ugliness, rejection, helplessness. Through this allegory, the book gives voice to our own, sometimes darkest and most shameful feelings — the sense of being an “outsider,” a “monster,” a “burden.” Reading Kafka, you might recognize echoes of your fears in his hero and feel a strange relief: you are not alone in this chaos.

• A provocation to the question "Who are we?": The book doesn’t give answers — it bombards us with questions. What makes us human? Our body or our mind? Our usefulness or our ability to feel? Gregor loses his human form but keeps his soul. His family looks “normal,” yet they slowly lose their humanity through cruelty and indifference. Who is the real monster here? The book pushes us to look critically at our reactions. How do we treat those who are “different”? Who is weak? Who has stopped being “useful”? Could the same hardness that destroyed Gregor be growing inside us, too?

• Brilliant form and unique atmosphere: Reading Kafka is a special experience. His style is cold, almost clinical in its precise description of a nightmare. This contrast — a terrible event told in a dry way — creates a powerful feeling of absurdity and hopelessness that you can almost feel physically. The Metamorphosis is a classic work without which world literature would be unimaginable. It has influenced philosophy, psychology, and art. Missing it means missing a key to understanding a huge part of modern culture.

The Metamorphosis is not an easy read, but it is a necessary one. It’s a book of challenge and revelation. It won’t entertain you, but it will make you think, shudder, and maybe see yourself and the world around you—so familiar and so fragile—in a new light. It reminds us that the scariest “metamorphosis” might not happen to the body, but to the human heart. And in this lies its timeless, frightening, and cleansing power. Read it to find your answer to the question: What happened to Gregor Samsa? And what kind of “insect” lives inside us?