The Metamorphosis

Oh, Gregor. The extra four legs suit you so very well.

I have now read Franz Kafka's novella The Metamorphosis twice. The first was shortly after I received it for my sixteenth birthday, way back in the eighteenth century (really. I'm old). It was sitting on a pile of books next to my nightstand table and I decided to read it. It was only 39 pages long, and I thought that I would feel rather clever afterward.




Things went quite according to plan. An hour and 39 pages later, I went downstairs for a snack, feeling rather clever. The book migrated its way down to the basement, with all the other books that have been read and no longer merit coveted bookshelf space.

Then, about a week ago, The Metamorphosis popped into my head again. "Good grief," I said to myself. "Kafka was really on to something there." I then embarked on a frantic, full-scale, adjective-ridden search through my house, eventually finding the book hiding like a gremlin in a pile of Junie B. Jones books.

I scuttled upstairs quicker than a hippo. I spent the next hour rereading the novella.

I don't know why I missed it the first time, but The Metamorphosis is truly a work of genius. Honestly. It makes me want to learn better German so I can read it in its original form. (Also, being able to curse in German is pretty badass¹.) Kafka manages to take about the most ridiculous premise ever, a man, Gregor Samsa, turning overnight into a giant cockroach, and turning it into a beautiful, touching, human tale. He is in touch with the human world in a way that few writers are, and the novella is wonderfully grounded in physical details. The intimate restless beauty of a young woman, the close confines of a room, and the wistful strains of violin music all come alive to the reader. Amidst all these physical details, the deterioration of Gregor's family is hauntingly delineated. The accessibility of the work also deserves praise; there is no extraneous prose, and the story is easily comprehended by anyone able to read proficiently.

In short, Kafka has created a masterpiece in under 40 pages. The Metamorphosis has leapt, literally in the space of an hour, from a book I seldom thought about to one of my top 5 books of all time. Congratulations, Kafka. Please drop me a line any time to claim your prize of a giant hug and some home-baked cockroach-and-apple pie. You deserve it.

Rating: 8/8

Tea: I have a confession. In my excitement to reread this book, I didn't actually drink any tea. HOWEVER, if I were to read the book a third time (which I most likely will), I would have something strong and black, like English Breakfast tea. Cinnamon apple is also an appropriately ironic choice.

¹Scheiße! See? Didn't your respect for me just go up a little?

A Brief History of Time

Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time is an absolute gem. I would like to begin this review with a personal account of my relationship with the book.

I first read this cogent account of the universe's formation, inner mechanisms, and remaining mysteries when I was thirteen years old. I fell in love. This book was the single most important text in my decision to pursue knowledge of theoretical physics and cosmology. This book was the first of many popular physics books I read. Following my experience with A Brief History of Time, I read The Elegant Universe, The View from the Center of the Universe, Entanglement, Galileo's Finger, and subscribed to Discover and Scientific American. This trail of physics knowledge, which began with Professor Hawking, ultimately led to my choice to enroll at MIT to study physics.

I do not tell the reader this story with the intent to impress my own intelligence upon him. I don't think that I was a particularly brilliant eighth grader, and I think that any other 13-year-old willing to invest the time I did in the book would understand it as well as I did. I mention my age at the time of my reading the book to show the reader how successfully Hawking manages to explain these mind-boggling concepts to a reader who is neither particularly well-educated nor well-versed in physics. I can reread this book now, with two years of physics classes and rather more years of life experience behind me, and gain much more from the book than I did then. Nevertheless, Hawking managed to convey enough of the wonder of the universe to get me hooked even then.

Despite currently being very well-versed in the language of theoretical physics, and despite having read innumerable books written for the layman on physics, my understanding of many difficult concepts can be traced back, more or less unchanged, to Professor Hawking's clear explanations. His language is comfortable and easy to understand, and the diagrams included manage to elucidate rather than obscure the subject matter.

The only problem A Brief History of Time is that it is now rather outdated. It was originally published in 1988, and there have been a few changes in the understanding of the universe since that time. String theory and the Higgs model of the universe, for example, are concepts that do not make a significant appearance in the book, simply because they were not widely accepted at the time of publication.

I would like to note that there has been a more recent edition released. I have not read this edition; it may address some of these omissions.

Nevertheless, Hawking's account remains the single best book for anyone with a limited background in physics who would like to learn more.

Rating: 7.5/8

Tea: Something mentally stimulating and refreshing, without the artificial rush of caffeine. I suggest ginger or mint.

Child 44, The Secret Speech

These two delightful Russian spy novels, by the delightful non-Russian spy author Tom Rob Smith, are two of my new favorite books. I have chosen to group them together, dear reader, because they follow the same characters, have very similar writing structure, and have the same sort of madcap adrenaline-infused feeling to them. Most importantly, the reader can drink the same sorts of teas while reading both.

Smith's debut, "Child 44", was a book I checked out of the local library after hearing it mentioned on NPR. I checked out the sequel, "The Secret Speech", almost immediately after finishing its predecessor. Smith's books are both set in mid-20th century Russia, and he had performed meticulous research on this world. From a starving town on the Russian steppes to a prison ship bound for the Gulags, every setting in the books is vivid and true. It is a very educated reader that emerges on the other side of Smith's books.

And yet, Smith has managed to convey all this historical information in the most heart-pounding of manners. His characters are delightfully robust, his crimes deliciously depraved, and his plot twists (usually) caught me off-guard. Best of all, the pace is so quick that I was never left bored for even a paragraph. Despite my various work and school-related obligations, I devoured each book in just a few days.

Of course, the books do have their flaws. The breakneck pace leaves little room for flowery prose, so the reader's inner poet is left somewhat neglected. The plot twists are a little too neatly executed at times, and the characters occasionally act irrationally (for example, I will never quite undersand Fraera's actions in the last few chapters of "The Secret Speech"). Despite these minor flaws, however, I enjoyed both books heartily and would unreservedly recommend them to anyone looking for a good action read.

Rating: 7.5/8

Tea: The masculine severity of these books merits something powerful and bitter, like strong black tea without milk or sugar. Hu Kwa, although certainly not geographically accurate, suits the mood, adding a mysterious smokey hint to the tea (and the books). Don't stress out too much over the tea, though -- I love these books so much that I doubt even the most egregious tea choice could ruin the experience.