The Metamorphosis A New Translation By Susan Bernofsky

Reading Kafka in Bernofsky's Translation Changes How You See the Text

I went through three different translations of The Metamorphosis before settling on Bernofsky's version, and it took me about six months to realize why the others felt off. Not broken, just slightly misaligned with what Kafka was actually writing. The difference isn't dramatic until you start comparing passages line by line, which I did while teaching a graduate seminar on modernist fiction. Bernofsky's approach to Die Verwandlung prioritizes the dry, administrative quality of Kafka's prose. Earlier translations, like the popular Norton Critical edition by Stuart Miller or the earlier ones by David Wyllie, tend to add a layer of psychological commentary that isn't in the original German. Kafka doesn't tell you that Gregor Samsa feels alienated or that the story is an allegory for existential dread. He reports events with the flat precision of a municipal incident log. Bernofsky preserves that distance. The reader does the work. Here's something most readers miss: Kafka's German uses a specific type of compound noun structure that English naturally wants to smooth over. "Ungeziefer" is usually translated as "monstrous vermin" or "huge insect thing." Bernofsky translates it as "pest" or just describes the creature without the theatrical adjective. This matters because Kafka's joke—yes, there is a dark joke here—is that Gregor's family treats his transformation as an inconvenience rather than an existential catastrophe. When translators beef up the horror language, they accidentally soften the satire.

One practical issue I ran into last semester involved the ending. The final lines about the Samsa family's hopeful outing have a rhythm in German that English resist. A couple of students pointed out that the last paragraph in the older translations felt rushed, like Kafka forgot to finish the story. In Bernofsky's version, the pacing holds. You can feel the deliberate casualness of the mother suggesting a trip into the country, the daughter already thinking about marriage prospects, the father remembering his business. The horror has completely receded, and that's the point. The world moves on without Gregor, and that indifference is the real transformation. If you're reading this for a class or for your own interest, I'd recommend keeping the German text nearby if you can. The Knauer critical edition is the standard reference. You don't need to read German fluently—just enough to notice where Bernofsky made a deliberate choice versus where she absorbed the source structure. For instance, her rendering of the chapter breaks avoids the melodrama that some editions insert through section titles or emphasis. Kafka used no chapter headings at all. Bernofsky respects that silence. The one limitation I should mention: Bernofsky's translation can feel too clean on a first read. If you're coming from a version that leans into the gothic atmosphere—the creaking doors, the looming shadows, the body horror of Gregor's physical changes—this translation might feel flat. That's not a flaw. It's a stylistic decision that serves the text better upon re-reading. I'd suggest reading it once straight through, then going back and comparing specific scenes with a Miller or Wyllie translation. The differences emerge quickly.

For anyone looking to get a copy, the hardcover from W.W. Norton is the standard edition. It includes a useful introduction by the translator and a few essays on Kafka's German syntax that explain some of the harder translation calls. The ISBN is 978-0393087114. There's also a paperback, but the binding on those tends to fall apart faster if you're doing close reading work. I've used this text in both undergraduate and graduate courses, and the students who come prepared with a second translation in hand always get more out of the discussion. The translation gap itself becomes a teaching tool. Kafka's story is about communication breakdown, and reading two English versions side by side makes that breakdown visible in a way that a single reading never will.