La insoportable levedad del ser

A good Europop lit-fic offering, yet it feels a bit outmoded now, much like Snap! or 2Unlimited. However, it still serves as compelling fodder for those philosophising undergrads who have higher aspirations than just erotic encounters with their right hands. The narrator is droll, sardonic, wise, and almost unbearably smug. In fact, I seriously considered using the line The Unbearable Smugness of Being, but then I decided not to. Drat! Also, I have vivid memories of the film version. In it, Juliette Binoche's underpants ride up her crack in a most pleasing manner for the teenage male viewer. I'm quite sure that when Kundera wrote this novel, he never imagined his expansive intellectual vision would be reduced to such reminiscences of cinematic titillation. I'm certain he'd appreciate this review's emphasis on tawdriness rather than a complex discourse on Czech politics. I'm sure of it. So, this novel hasn't become a personal favourite. It was solid intelligent lit-fic, with some repetitious parts, an ambitious structure, and a scattershot plot. I got tripped up by the abundance of quotable lines and overlooked the endless use of the catchphrase Es muss sein! I didn't say a word when the Tomas plot turned into Confessions of a Window Cleaner (Manny's favourite book, or so I'm told). I even cut Tereza some slack for being a self-loathing dormouse, and the other characters for being adulterous imbeciles who intellectualise their childish behaviour and hopscotch across Europe at the first sign of trouble. I think art and adultery can make for entertaining bedfellows. But if someone fellates you at the opera, is that somehow less damaging than getting fellated in a motel? Kundera doesn't address this question precisely, but it would make for a great final book. He's 82 now. Somehow, that makes this review seem even more disrespectful. I think I'll just stop here.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being is a profound and captivating novel that delves deep into the human condition. Milan Kundera's masterful storytelling takes us on a journey through the lives of four complex characters. Tomas, a womanizing surgeon, Tereza, his mistress-turned-wife, Franz, a lecturer, and Sabina, an artist. The novel is set against the backdrop of the historical events of 1968 in Czechoslovakia, adding a layer of depth and significance to the personal dramas.

Kundera's writing style is both philosophical and poetic, as he explores themes such as love, freedom, betrayal, and the meaning of life. The narrative is non-linear, which allows for a more nuanced and multi-faceted exploration of the characters and their relationships. The philosophical digressions add another dimension to the novel, making it not just a story, but a thought-provoking exploration of the human experience.

The characters in the novel are all well-developed and relatable, each with their own flaws and desires. Tomas' womanizing ways, Tereza's insecurities, Franz's idealism, and Sabina's addiction to betrayal all make for a fascinating and engaging read. The themes of lightness and heaviness are explored through the characters' experiences, as they struggle to find meaning and purpose in a world that often seems chaotic and unpredictable.

In conclusion, The Unbearable Lightness of Being is a must-read novel for anyone who enjoys thought-provoking literature. It is a timeless classic that continues to resonate with readers today, offering insights into the human condition that are as relevant now as they were when the novel was first published.

\n  The Weightless Burden of Non-being\n

There are only a handful of books that bestow upon the reader the complete liberty to lose oneself and then find oneself again. Despite the thematic title Kundera selected, this asymmetric, anachronistic, perplexing, and intriguing masterpiece can be approached from a million different angles. It's as if one sits and constructs one's own book within one's head, filled with one's own thoughts.

Regarding the motivic question (Which is superior, a burden to drive you or a lightness to set you free?), I respond: Should we even pose this question?

I do so because, the moment we compel ourselves to choose one or the other, we enter into an impasse where, having chosen one, we constantly yearn to shift to the other side. Kundera, to a greater or lesser extent, forces his characters to make a choice, and ultimately, all of them endure melancholy interspersed with moments of happiness. Tomas and Tereza live with the weight of compassion and love, while Franz and Sabina live with the lightness of freedom. Regrettably, like these characters, in our own lives too, we don't truly have the option to choose between the two, do we? We are always the victims. Victims of love or hatred, truth or lies, passions or fleeting affairs, and above all, of circumstances or vertigo.

The most remarkable aspect of Kundera's writing is that it traverses in unusual orbits. He commences by relating something about a character at a particular moment and then leaps to a different time and a different character, and somehow miraculously converges these events while discussing something entirely else. It's not strange at all. In fact, you'll frequently find yourself exclaiming, "I like what you did there." He highlights some of his personal beliefs from time to time and constantly reminds us, at various junctures, of how right he is.

Turning to the story, during the most arduous period of the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, the characters mainly suffer from their own psyches rather than the invasion itself. Certainly, it altered the circumstances, but even if the communist turmoil had not been present, they would still have been the victims (as I mentioned earlier). My favorite part of this novel is the third section, "Words Misunderstood," which in itself is sufficient to penetrate the depths of Franz's and Sabina's minds and hearts. It's nothing short of magic that, using just a few simple words, Kundera has illustrated their inherent differences that ultimately lead to their separation.

Somewhere in the middle, there is a mention of the word "Kitsch." You may find it in the dictionary, but you'll never truly understand what it means until you read this book. And this discovery will stay with you forever.

Allow me to quote something from this book that remained with me for a considerable length of time:

"The pleasure suffusing his body called for darkness. That darkness was pure, perfect, thoughtless, visionless; that darkness was without end, without borders; that darkness was the infinite we each carry within us. (\n  Yes, if you're looking for infinity, just close your eyes!\n)\"

Warning: This book has long-term aftereffects.

Is it light or heavy or both?
Is it a novel, a psychological analysis, a philosophy of life, or a reconsideration of the concepts of life?
Is it a part of life or all of life?
At first, it was my first readings of Kundera, and it won't be the last after reading this novel. First of all, I was impressed by Kundera's style of narration. To be honest, I would call it "intelligent storytelling". Yes, it has a certain amount of intelligence that makes you think deeply after every line you read. In fact, every line whispers in your ear with a sense of urgency. So, I didn't feel bored or routine like other novels. Instead, I felt it whispering in my ear with the details of the story. He respects and values the reader in every line and doesn't miss its essence. In every situation or scene he describes, he simplifies it for you and always reminds you of all the details he has told you before. Just as he said, "Yes, I wrote this sentence in the first chapter." He really respected me as a reader, so I respected him. He didn't treat me as just a recipient, but interacted with me, warning me here and reminding me of what I might have forgotten there. He didn't separate himself from the events like a spectator, but immersed himself in the events with me, sharing the joy with me while reading.

In short, the narrative line of the novel focuses on four main characters, the most important of which is Tomas, the protagonist of the novel. These characters vary between lightness and heaviness. The novel takes place against the background of "heavy" political events, such as the occupation of Russia by the Czech Republic during World War II, and the spread of the "heavy" communist system as he believes.

The character I interacted with the most was Tereza, that heavy woman who failed to wear the light clothes that Tomas always wore. To be honest, Kundera is brilliant in embodying the image of the traitor as a person who enjoys lightness, although sins are what weigh a person the most.

What impressed me the most - no, amazed me - was the third chapter, which dealt with a detailed explanation of the concepts between Tomas and Sabina. Although it lacks any literary aspect, it added a lot of meaningful and intellectual weight to the novel - because of its new way of treatment - and was very, very brilliant in what it carried of meanings.

What bothered me the most was that I stopped reading it for a while and then went back to it and finished it. I will read it again in English and maybe start it again from now on.

To be honest,
this review doesn't do justice to the novel. I wrote it in a hurry, and maybe I will come back to write another review later because the novel has many aspects that deserve to be stopped and considered because of their brilliance and cannot be ignored.

And in the end: The novel is not a personal confession of the author, but rather a reflection on what happens to human life in the void called the world.

I give it five stars with a special thank you to Milan Kundera, who I now consider one of my favorite writers. We hope to have intelligent novelists like him.

:)

Really 3.5, but I gave it the benefit of the doubt and rounded up to 4.

This book consists of a series of anecdotes, interspersed with moments of deep and surreal introspection. There are several time jumps that disrupt the linearity. At times, this can cause some confusion, but it's not overly severe. All of these elements are part of one all-encompassing story.

Basically, it's a story about sexuality and the Cold War in Czechoslovakia. The first two sections were a bit challenging for me to get into. However, either I got accustomed to the writing style or the story took a turn. I had sort of resigned myself to the idea that I wouldn't end up liking it. But that definitely changed as I continued reading.

I don't think I can claim that overall this book completely blew me away. Nevertheless, it is a very interesting story about life and relationships that have been influenced by the political climate in Eastern Europe after World War II. And I'm glad that I took the time to read it.

Kundera is, without a doubt, an unconventional writer. If you're in search of fully developed characters or a seamless plot, The Unbearable Lightness of Being might not be your cup of tea. Kundera uses plot and characters more as tools or examples to expound on his philosophy of life, which is the essence of this novel. He offers a peek into his characters' lives, hits the pause button, and then delves into explaining all about what just transpired, the philosophy and psychology that drive both his characters' lives and often real lives too. In line with this format, the novel has a fragmented structure. It's easy to understand how a reader could get irritated with the author constantly getting lost in his philosophical musings. However, if you can extract some meaning from those, the novel might just work for you.

Decisions and dilemmas. Kundera's characters seem to be in pursuit of an elusive something, striving to find that perfect spot in life where they would wish to live forever. But it's challenging to determine with certainty the direction in which that perfect place lies. If they feel their current lives are suffocating, going the other way could be liberating. But is it worth leaving behind all that will be sacrificed? The moment they take a step forward, they start to feel the pull of what they just turned their backs on. Often, the choice isn't between perfection and imperfection; it's a trade-off.

The ability to shape our own lives, at least to some extent, is a power. Sometimes, it can also be a burden. Especially when there's no way of knowing what awaits us around the next corner. Do we choose to be happy today at the expense of 'What ifs..' bothering us tomorrow? Or do we endure an ordeal now in the hope that it will pay off in the future? What if we end up in a mess and can't turn back?

\"And therein lies the whole of man's plight. Human time does not run in circles; it runs ahead in a straight line. That is why man cannot be happy: happiness is the longing for repetition.\"

Sometimes, we can only find the right answers in hindsight.

\"We can never know what we want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.\"

Kundera speaks of the irony of human life. Having only one life to live makes life choices difficult and burdensome. It's also because of this very fact that these life choices don't carry much weight in the grand scheme of things. And it's this irony that gives rise to the unbearable lightness of being. The only thing that alleviates us from this unbearable lightness are fortuitous events which, whether we like it or not, play a role in shaping our lives.

\"They (human lives) are composed like music. Guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms a fortuitous occurence (Beethoven's music, death under a train) into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual's life.\"

Love. Kundera doesn't describe love in a poetic, all-beautiful way. What happens when one of the characters packs her life in a suitcase and leaves to be with her lover? Is there music in the air, fluttering butterflies? No. Her stomach rumbles the moment she sees her lover...because she hasn't eaten all day.

\"If a love is to be unforgettable, fortuities must immediately start fluttering down to it like birds to Francis of Assisi's shoulders.\"

Finding love doesn't miraculously solve all their problems. Love is often accompanied by jealousy, mistrust, lies, deceit, and pain. Yet, they do find some strength in love and do everything they can to hold onto it.

\"\"Love is a battle,\" said Marie-Claude, still smiling. \"And I plan to go on fighting. To the end.\"\"

Along with these, Kundera touches on a few other themes as well. Some of them hit the mark, while there were parts that I found trite, pretentious, or simply lacking any sense. For instance, one of the characters sleeps with every other woman who crosses his path. Kundera rationalizes his physical desire and explains it as a deep-seated intellectual curiosity. Nah, I don't buy that. Then there were quotes that seemed to be trying too hard to be profound and just went over my head.

\"Tomas did not realize at the time that metaphors are dangerous. Metaphors are not to be trifled with. A single metaphor can give birth to love.

Umm, What?

Another strange thing I noticed was that the author breaks the fourth wall and tries to defend the novel. He intervenes and explains how he's not just telling a story but investigating human lives. He tells us that the characters are just figments of his imagination (so we shouldn't expect them to be realistic). He tells us that it's wrong to criticize a novel for mysterious coincidences (so we shouldn't question the unrealistic events in the plot).

Admittedly, there are some flaws, but I would have forgiven them even without the author justifying himself.

It's time we start oppressing men so they can stop writing pretentious garbage like this.

Men have long held a dominant position in many aspects of society, and sometimes their actions and words can be quite pretentious.

By oppressing them, perhaps we can make them more aware of their behavior and force them to think twice before producing such meaningless and pretentious works.

This doesn't mean we should be cruel or unjust, but rather use a certain degree of pressure to encourage them to improve their writing and communication skills.

Maybe then, we can expect to see more valuable and meaningful contributions from them, instead of the pretentious garbage that seems to be so prevalent.

It's a bold idea, but it might just be what's needed to bring about a positive change in the literary and intellectual landscape.

On occasions, human beings are often classified according to the philosophy they adopt in their existential journey.

On one hand, there are those who face life with a lightness that is practically weightless, detached from any material or emotional anchor. On the other hand, some live with such a heavy burden that at times it seems as if the world is falling upon them and there is not enough strength to keep moving forward. This dichotomy is directly related to the concept of the eternal return popularized by the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, based on the endless repetition of each life and event. Every decision, error, and joy that we experience in our lives would occur infinitely again and again. This responsibility, this existential weight, can be unbearable.

Kundera dares to question this hypothesis and considers that life is a linear and finite fragment, so it has a beginning and an end. Nevertheless, this argument is not promising. A life that has not had a past replica and will not have a future replica is a life condemned to uncertainty in the face of the novelty of each act. As if this were not enough, the author opens the debate on the value of a life with an expiration date. If everything lived is already in the past, what is the meaning of our existence? In the face of this perspective, nothing seems to matter. This void, this existential lightness, can be unbearable.

All this introduction is necessary to later understand the guiding thread of the novel, which narrates the choices and consequences of four characters whose lives seem to be interrelated over the years, in a particularly动荡 period for Czechoslovakia.

These characters, the absolute protagonists of the novel, are nothing more than the guiding thread of the story. They do not manage to move us, and at times they do not even seem human. They are mere executors of their own actions, which allow the author's thesis to advance. And yet, the result works perfectly. Each one takes a philosophical attitude towards their own destiny. The mastery does not lie in the detailed analysis of their traits and personality, but in the use of individuals who allow theorizing about something much more complex such as the existence of the human being.

In addition, the structure of the novel adapts formidably to its content. Through short chapters grouped into seven parts, the narration advances and recedes from the perspective of the different characters. The same situation will have as many points of view as there are individuals involved in the scene, and the experiences of each one do not always end up coinciding.

"The Unbearable Lightness of Being" is a novel that is probably more enjoyable after reading it. The author makes a praiseworthy effort to create a fiction about a postmodern philosophical treatise. Thus, he establishes his own perspective on human existence while narrating a story of illusions, expectations, failures, and ultimately, a story of love. Life is complex and Milan Kundera seems to be clear about it. We usually learn all the fundamental concepts through opposite pairs, although our decisions end up being a combination of both. Both the existential weight and lightness are unbearable, and a life dedicated to them is unviable. But if we accept the lightness to which the human being seems condemned, we will be able to start looking for those small flashes of beauty that are within our reach and, perhaps, find the eternal return in our linear lives.