About Me — Sol Kochi Carballo

The most impactful $20 I ever made

When I was 13 my mother paid me $20 to read Kafka’s The Metamorphosis. This was nothing unusual at the time — she often tried to vest me with her love of reading, especially when it came to the literary canon. To a large extent, my childhood growing up in Argentina consisted of monthly theatre visits, museum tours and countless hours spent reading. I loved having my nose buried in a book and the fresh smell of old pages quickly became a comfort.

Yet as I grew older, moved halfway across the world and entered high school, that love of reading diminished — but my mum never gave up.

It was a sunny summer’s day…

I was doing what I usually did on my holidays: absolutely nothing. At 13, I was struggling with my small-town life. I didn’t like my peers, I didn’t like my family and I sure as hell didn’t like myself. Growing into adolescence is hard under any conditions, but it becomes even harder when you’re a socially awkward biracial immigrant in a school of 30 very Australian, sport-obsessed kids.

‘I’m bored,’ I complained for what must have been the hundredth time. My mum sighed.

‘Read this,’ she told me handing me her kindle. The Metamorphosis read in large block letters across the top. ‘I’ll pay you.’

Now I don’t know why my mum chose that book for me to read. Perhaps she sensed my teenage awkwardness in many ways paralleled the uncomfortable feeling of the novella, perhaps she just thought it was a classic worth reading. Nevertheless, with nothing better to do and $20 on the line I decided to give it a try.

Like most teenagers, I was reluctant. I had little interest in reading for enjoyment. Besides, my mum had suggested I do it, so naturally I didn’t want to. Yet as I progressed further into the book and turned page after page, I found myself heavily invested in the story.

For those of you who may not be familiar with the text, The Metamorphosis follows the story of Gregor Samsa, a salesman who wakes up one morning to find himself transformed into ‘a monstrous vermin’. Now bed-bound, Samsa begins to reflect on his job and the ‘temporary and constantly changing human relationships’ he’s had throughout his life. This is a key theme of the novella as Samsa’s own family — who he had previously taken care of — quickly turn against him and leave him to die.

My Metamorphosis

Sure, there might be a deeper meaning to Kafka’s work, but who’s to say it doesn’t also fit the uncomfortableness of coming of age?

There are many interpretations of The Metamorphosis. Some believe the story mirrors Kafka’s father complex, and some emphasise the sociological portrayal of the family unit. Still, others argue that the novella is largely reflective of a struggle for existence — a theme much consistent with the dark, often sombre tone of the story. Another interpretation — and one that I agree with deeply — is that the title does not refer to the metamorphosis of Gregor Samsa. Instead, it can be argued that The Metamorphosis centres around Grete, Samsa’s sister, who throughout the story transforms from a young girl into a woman as she is forced to take on more responsibility.

In many ways, I saw myself in Grete. We were alone in Australia, all our friends and extended family were back in Argentina. I was also (and still am) the eldest of four children, one of which is a whole 10 years younger than me. In an experience that I am sure is familiar to every immigrant child, I felt a huge sense of responsibility. Both my parents and my siblings relied on me in one way or another, whether it be for English help, babysitting or advice. Years later, when we moved to the city and my dad stayed behind for work, this feeling only exacerbated.

Likewise, I saw myself in Gregor. For a long time growing up, I didn’t feel like myself, a sentiment echoed in the strange imagery of waking up in the body of vermin. I was also empathetic to Samsa’s descriptions of loneliness. The isolation of small town life combined with a lack of a strong social network meant I often felt alone.

I’m sure some literary critics would find my analysis ridiculous. Admittedly, my connection is slightly unconventional. Sure, there might be a deeper meaning to Kafka’s work, but who’s to say it doesn’t also fit the uncomfortableness of coming of age?

To this day, The Metamorphosis remains one of my favourite works. I’m 7 years older now and undergoing a metamorphosis of my own. Not only am I studying at university and working in an area I’m passionate about, I also spent a semester abroad travelling Europe. Most importantly, I have people that love me and proudly present as a woman of colour, immigrant and environmentalist. Looking back, I have no doubt Kafka’s work was a critical puzzle piece in my journey to find my identity, and I’m forever grateful that my mum never gave up trying to instil a love of reading in me.