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I have to admit that my expectations before reading the Metamorphosis and Other Stories were very low. In fact, I thought I would hate it. My opinion of Kafka or more accurately, my opinion of those that read Kafka was also low. My judgments were solely based on the belief that readers of Kafka are all pretentious jackanapes that only want to flaunt the fact that they have read a German writer.

For the sake of full disclosure, I should say that in my old age I have become a rather skeptical person. Suspicious of everyone’s motives, even those closest to me. As an amateur psychologist, I think that stems from school cafeterias. Friends offering you a chicken nugget from their plate had to be placed under a microscope and examined. After all, who in their right mind would willfully give away a chicken nugget without it first having fallen on the floor or more likely licked in an attempt at humor.

Now that the glimpse into my psyche is over, back to Franz. As I said, I thought I would hate reading this book. I was immediately proved wrong upon finishing the first page/story. A Message from the Emperor is the most succinct story I have ever read and that’s not just because it is barely ¾ of a page. If an artist painted a picture of this story � it would be worth a million words. More poetic than anything else, Kafka writes as though every single word is scrutinized and only selected after passing a vocabulary board’s exam.

I enjoyed the Metamorphosis quite a bit, but I think my favorite stories were the Country Doctor and a Hunger Artist. The Country Doctor was so odd that it was fascinating. For most of it, I had almost no idea what was going on. Even now, I’m still not sure about everything and from reviews I have read since, it seems like a lot of people are confused by the story.

A Hunger Artist appealed to me greatly. My interpretation of the story speaks to me like nothing has since I read The Catcher in the Rye as an angst-filled teenager, which is probably as clichéd as you can get.

Anyway, the “Artist� in the story is merely doing what he does best, which is starve. A talent he was given more so than created himself. All he wants out of it is to be appreciated and recognized for his accomplishments and contributions to society and the enjoyment of the consumers of his craft. Instead, he receives suspicion and temporary glances as a societal oddity. Constantly cast aside with his fame vanishing as quickly as the meat on his bones.

To clarify, I am not an artist, nor am I starving or even hungry. Well, maybe a little hungry at the moment. I have delayed second breakfast until I finish this review. In my job, I feel underappreciated and poorly recognized for my contributions, which is how I connected with the Hunger Artist. However, I do have one thing going for me that the Hunger Artist did not. At the end of the day, I cannot be replaced by a caged panther. A caged monkey, perhaps, but panther - no.