Putting Bug Bio To Use

In this post, I wanted to explore how far bug metaphors could get me in terms of meaningful interpretation of The Metamorphosis. I'm beginning to think that the answer to this question is 'not very far', or, at least, 'nowhere particularly coherent'. But, I'll give it a shot.
We've been over Gregor's pre-transformation bugginess in class; how Gregor works constantly and has a completely selfless relationship with his family like a worker ant or bee.  So, here, I'd like to explore the implications of his metamorphosis and subsequent life as bug-like processes.
The word "metamorphosis", in the insect world, is used to refer to a transformation from a larval form to an adult form. (I tend to think 'butterflies'.)This would sort of seem to suggest that Gregor's human life was his juvenile stage and that his bug-self was his mature form. I think this sounds kind of strange, because Gregor's transformation seems to be a step backwards, whereas for humans, adulthood is the longest and most productive stage of life. We grow and progress into our adult forms; they're the goal that childhood tries to achieve. However, adulthood is different for most bugs, so the comparison works a little more from an insect's perspective. Insects often live for much longer in their larval stages than they do as adults. Cicadas live for more than ten years underground before emerging to live for a single summer as reproductively mature creatures. Adult mayflies last even less long: on the order of 24 hours. They don't even have working mouthparts (which seems to be somewhat the case for Gregor as well). For many insects, living for one's self is done before the metamorphosis, and adulthood is all about the next generation; about reproduction; about he welfare of the family.
Viewed this way, I think the comparison actually makes some sense. Post-transformation, Gregor does seem to be indirectly fostering some development in his family members. After being forced to work, his father and sister get stronger (his mother often deviates from the patterns they follow; not quite sure what to make of her), and though the brunt of Gregor's work is done, his genes persist and develop, just like those of a bug that has successfully reproduced. I would say that the strongest analogy to an insect-like fatherhood lies in Gregor's relationship to his sister, who really matures and becomes ready to leave Gregor, particularly by the very end. In a very insectoid manner, Gregor dies when his sister has grown independent and he has been evolutionarily obviated. (Humans don't die immediately after their offspring become independent, but insects typically do).
This affords a slightly more positive outlook on Gregor's situation (maybe sorta?).  From a bug's perspective, even though Gregor's family has driven him to a miserable life and shameful death, he succeeds in their persistence. And, it seems to me, that usually (maybe due to its association with the butterfly's transformation from a squishy green food-bag into something visually pleasing), the word "metamorphosis" has somewhat positive connotations. So that sorta fits in with my dubious little theory of subtle positivism.

In all honesty, I doubt that I should be crediting Kafka with this much entomological knowledge or this sort of careful analysis of insectly terms. He did, after all, suggest that cockroaches have nostrils. Which they don't. They breath through their sides. So, Gregor's death should have been described more like, "Then without willing it, his head sank all the way down, and from his abdominal and thorasic spiracles, flowed weakly out his last breath."

Leaden Circles

This post on Woolf is extremely late; I apologize.
Do you guys think that Big Ben plays any role other than pace-setter? It's got to be one of the most frequently visited subjects in the narrative. Every couple of sections leaden circles are dissolving in the air. And, it seems like the narrator might have a personal connection to it because its chiming is described in the same way regardless of the point of view from which the story is operating: "leaden circles dissolved in the air" appears in Peter's section, in Lucrezia's and in Clarissa's (in Peter's story, it could be Clarissa chiming in--the line is in parentheses, which are sometimes used to switch perspectives in the middle of a character's section-- although its appearance in Rezia's narration without parentheses would suggest otherwise). However, a direct narration from the narrator doesn't necessarily mean that it has any symbolic or conceptual significance. It just seems to come up sooo often, I thought that it must be slightly more important than just an indicator of how much time has passed, or a bridge between the various view points in the story.
In fact, Big Ben is mentioned at least seven times, signaling the arrival of various hours and half hours.

I had a thought that maybe those hours were the namesake of the movie The Hours, and that maybe the movie would shed some light on the subject. Unfortunately I soon discovered the real reason for the title of the movie in a line of Virginia's: "Leonard, always the years between us, always the years. Always the love. Always the hours."
Here, "the hours" seem to signify the time spent between her and her husband and the importance of their relationship; not exactly what I was looking for, but still interesting. So, I'll take this opportunity to diverge a bit and address The Hours.

It's clear from Woolf's notes to her husband that she loves him quite a lot, but for most of the movie, their relationship seems kind of strained. He's almost playing the role of Holmes of Bradshaw in that he's treating Virginia's depression as a condition that he understands better than she does. Although he doesn't seem to see it as a weakness like the doctors do, and maybe a better analogy would be to the relationship Septimus has with Rezia: troubled individual, and occasionally misguided caregiver.

Okay, shamelessly shifting topics without a transition: Another really important theme in the movie (that's also a theme in the book, particularly during Septimus's story line) is the idea that freedom (by whatever means) is necessary: like, of more importance than life. At the end of the movie, Laura claims that she needed to escape her confining life as a fifties housewife; that it wasn't even her choice to leave her family. She calls staying "death" but in some senses it seems like it was worse than death, because she seriously considered suicide as a way to escape it. And, if the parallels to Septimus's case mean anything, one could interpret willful suicide on Laura's part as a better choice than being held back by society (or doctors), because it's a freer choice (assuming that Septimus's suicide is actually presented as the right choice, which I think is somewhat unclear). Woolf (the character in the movie) insists that it's a human right to be able to chose to live in an exciting place, and suggests that maybe suicide would be a better option than sticking it out in a lonely, boring place, like the one in which she's staying during the movie.

Woolf (movie character again) also justifies her death by asserting that the deaths of some (and these would be the "poets") make others appreciate life more. This certainly seems to be the effect of Septimus's death on Clarissa. I was looking for evidence that Richard's death inspired some character in the movie to better appreciate life, but couldn't find any (if you've got some, please let me know). I also tried to figure out how this relates to the freedom thing, but couldn't.

Anyway, getting back to my original topic (Big Ben, if you've forgotten), the the movie didn't contain the answer I was looking for. So, I'll keep wildly speculating.
Regarding what I said earlier about being a pace-setter, I suppose that an illustrator of the unrelenting passage of time is not such a trivial role to play in this book considering Clarissa's relationship to time: her nostalgia and fear of the future (specifically death). It also seems to be nearly the only objective aspect of the story. Everything else is filtered through a point of view, and though it's described in a creative way: leaden circles and a perpetually strong, confident almost human demeanor, it's description is, like I mentioned before, always consistent, and therefore, somehow more objective. Big Ben is either connected to the narrator, or the same to everyone, heard by everyone, and always there. Inescapable, sorta like time.