Living under the gaze
- Vaishnavi Sharma
- 7 days ago
- 6 min read
Living under the gaze | Vaishnavi Sharma
“I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
And I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.”
— T. S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
T. S. Eliot’s Prufrock encapsulates the anxiety of a self whose harshest critic is not society but the self itself—clearly perceptible in the obsessive weighing of life “with coffee spoons”. This mirrors what remains constant: the incessant scrutiny and dissatisfaction that constitute the existential burden of being. Wordsmiths then and now continue to embody quintessential existential themes in their works, contemplating how, despite the passage of time and ever-widening divides, one truth remains unaltered—the indefatigable compulsion to prove oneself. None depicted this better than Franz Kafka, whose writings—often labeled ‘Kafkaesque’— portray alienation, the absurdity of existence, and the unbearable weight of being all at once. His characters exhibit, with melancholic grace, the sentiment that “being seen feels like confinement, unseen like erasure.”
This article delves into the nuances of character-building executed by Kafka through three of his prominent works—Metamorphosis (1915), A Hunger Artist (1922), and The Trial (1925). Across his oeuvre, the protagonists often collapse under unbearable dissonance, displaying what Edward Tory Higgins (1987) coined as Self-Discrepancy Theory: the psychological tension that arises when there is a gap between one’s actual self (the belief one holds about one’s own attributes), ideal self (the attributes one hopes or aspires to embody), and ought self (the attributes one feels duty-bound to fulfill). Set against quite different backdrops, these pieces explore two standpoints Higgins identified regarding the self—the personal perspective and that of a significant other (e.g., parent, spouse, or close friend).
Gregor Samsa, the protagonist of The Metamorphosis, is portrayed as a traveling salesman and the family’s sole breadwinner, who wakes up one morning to find himself transformed into a gigantic insect. Yet, despite this inescapable grotesque change, his first thoughts are not of horror but of missing his train and disappointing his employer—already striking the story with the perfect note of alienation. After futile attempts at communication, he fails to reach either his family or his employer, who recoil in disgust, while he continues to worry about their finances. Confined to his room, he is initially cared for by his sister Grete but is soon resented as useless. His room is gradually stripped of furniture and humanity alike. On one occasion, when he emerges drawn by Grete’s violin, the family’s lodgers are petrified, and Grete, realizing what a burden he has become, insists on getting rid of him. Realizing his rejection, Gregor retreats and dies quietly, liberating his family, who now feel relieved and eager to begin a new life without him.
In Gregor’s case, his actual self is a hideous insect, incapable of working or supporting his family any longer, while his ideal self is that of a provider who is respected, financially independent, and able to live with dignity. His ought-self demanded that he be the dutiful son and breadwinner, bound intrinsically to his family’s economic survival. This abyss between his selves initiates intense feelings of shame, guilt, and despair. The quandary is that he cannot embody what his family expects, nor can he live as he desires. Added to this is the family’s disgust, which sharpens this discrepancy —modelling his very existence as a reminder of his failure or incapacity.
While Gregor is prototypical of the crushing weight of obligations, Kafka’s Hunger Artist—so named throughout the plot to denote how much he devotes himself to his profession—revolves around a man whose art and entire existence is fasting. Once celebrated as a public marvel, he drew large audiences who admired his discipline and endurance as he starved inside a cage, constantly under public scrutiny, even guarded by a supervisor to ensure he wasn’t deceiving people. The hunger artist, however, was never satisfied and believed that he had the potential to fast longer than the imposed forty-day limit, but he could sense that, over time, audiences lost interest as the public taste shifted and his fame declined. He now joins a circus, relegated to the periphery, where people pass by his cage with little notice. Still, he goes on fasting obsessively, extending it indefinitely in a vain attempt to prove himself, but he wastes away until he dies. The narrative takes a new turn when he reveals the secret behind his obsession, stating that he never saw fasting as a noble art but simply starved because he never found any food he liked.
Thus, in Higgins’ terms, his actual self is a frail man trapped by compulsive feeling, but his ideal self is the consummate artist who pushes human endurance to its limits. His ought self is bound by audience expectation and spectacle. The irony lies in the fact that he faces the collapse of all three: neither public admiration nor private belief sustains him; his ideal becomes impossible, his ought irrelevant, and his actual self is consumed by emptiness. Here, Kafka probes the futility of striving for perfection when desire itself is absent, in a hollow attempt to please outsiders—a mere pathological expression. This paradox is read by scholars such as Stanley Corngold as Kafka’s mediation on art and authenticity.
If Gregor is crushed by obligation and the Hunger Artist by ineffectuality, Josef K. in The Trial suffers under the absurdity of accountability without clarity. Arrested without explanation, he spends the tale seeking justification, navigating opaque bureaucracies, and defending himself against charges never revealed. His life becomes consumed by a trial he cannot comprehend, and he is eventually executed “like a dog,” still ignorant of his crime.
Josef K.’s actual self is an ordinary man suddenly branded guilty. His ideal self is the rational subject convinced he can argue his way to vindication. His ought self is imposed by an inscrutable authority demanding acquiescence. Unlike Gregor or the Hunger Artist, Josef K.’s discrepancies are externally constructed by faceless institutions. The result is existential paralysis: he cannot bridge the gap between selves because the terms themselves are unknowable. As Ritchie Robertson notes in his introduction to The Trial, the novel can be read less as a legal trial than as a moral one, “where it is Josef K.’s whole character, the extent of his human and spiritual resources, that is put on trial.”
Though Kafka’s characters may appear extreme—Gregor as an insect, the Hunger Artist starving in his cage, Josef K. standing trial for an unnamed crime—their struggles echo ordinary dilemmas we face quotidian. Higgins’ Self-Discrepancy Theory is not confined to literature; it resonates with the inner conflicts of students, professionals, caregivers, and anyone caught between competing expectations.
Like Gregor, many students or young professionals find their worth measured primarily by productivity. Marks, job performance, or family duty often become the yardsticks of value. When health, mental strain, or unforeseen setbacks intervene, the guilt of “failing” obligations can feel suffocating.
The Hunger Artist’s obsessive fasting mirrors the modern fixation with proving oneself—whether through grades, social media visibility, or “hustle culture.” Even after meeting external standards, individuals often feel the bar could always be raised higher. The result is exhaustion, coupled with the nagging suspicion that one’s efforts lack genuine meaning.
Josef K.’s struggle against opaque authority parallels the experience of navigating institutions today—universities, workplaces, or bureaucracies—where expectations are unclear, and judgment feels arbitrary. Students awaiting results, employees subject to shifting metrics, or citizens withstanding impersonal systems often feel trapped in trials without clear charges.
Together, these dilemmas manifest as anxiety, burnout, and a chronic sense of inadequacy—hallmarks of what psychologists now call the “performance society.” The more roles we inhabit (student, child, employee, friend), the more selves we must propitiate, and the sharper the discrepancies become.
To cut a long story short, Kafka’s characters may appear lamentable since they never escape their discrepancies. Yet, unlike Gregor, the Hunger Artist, or Josef K., ordinary individuals still have the capacity to pause, reflect, and recalibrate. To brace oneself is not to deny obligations or aspirations, but to recognize that the self is not a static verdict—it is a dialogue, constantly shifting. And while existence may never be free of absurdity, learning to live with it, rather than against it, is perhaps the most bona fide art of all.
¹ T. S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," Poetry Magazine, via Poetry Foundation, accessed September 17, 2025,
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems /44212/the-love-song-of-j-alfred-prufrockas
² Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis, trans. Ian Johnston, Planet eBook (public domain, January 1999), accessed September 17, 2025, https://www.planetebook.com/free-ebooks/the-metamorp hosis.pdf
³ Franz Kafka, "A Hunger Artist," PDF, uploaded on Bethlehem Area School District site, accessed September 17, 2025,
https://basdwpweb.beth.k12.pa.us/liberty/wp-content/upl oads/sites/7/2020/06/A-Hunger-Artist-by-Franz-Kafka.pdf.
⁴ Franz Kafka, "A Hunger Artist," PDF, uploaded on
Bethlehem Area School District site, accessed September 17, 2025, https://basdwpweb.beth.k12.pa.us/liberty/wp-content/upl oads/sites/7/2020/06/A-Hunger-Artist-by-Franz-Kafka.pdf
⁵ E. T. Higgins, "Self-Discrepancy Theory: What Patterns of Self-Beliefs Cause People to Suffer?" Advances in Experimental Social Psychology 22 (1989): 93-136, https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S006526 0108603068
⁶ Stanley Corngold, Franz Kafka: The Necessity of Fc (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1987),
