I have a profound weakness for engaging in intelligent discussions about the human condition. It truly fascinates me when an author can take ordinary, everyday situations and explore the underlying metaphysics in a detailed and captivating manner. In such cases, I am more than willing to award four stars. However, if the author presents an idea that compels me to sit back,陷入沉思 for a while before continuing to read, well, then five stars almost seem insufficient. This is especially true when such an impactful moment occurs within the first five pages. I am well aware that it may seem premature to decide on a rating so early on, but as I progress through the prose, my decision remains unwavering.

It never fails to amaze me when an author can so clearly understand how humans respond to the consequences of history and life, and yet possess the ability to distill the countless aspects into a coherent and powerful story. Not only that, but they also时不时 digress to discuss how humans as a whole cope with existence and what these coping mechanisms signify in the long term. For instance, I had previously heard of the word 'kitsch' in the context of parody and overly sentimental cultural motifs, but I had never realized just how prevalent this concept is in real life. It is inescapable and almost terrifying. Of course, I did not agree with all of the author's points, and one of them made me a bit too uncomfortable to fully embrace. But otherwise, it is always极其令人满意 when a book is conscious of its potential to enlighten and is able to balance the story with philosophy in a beautifully readable way.

And to all those who finished this book believing it was solely about sex. If that is all you took away from it, I highly recommend rereading it. Highly. You are missing out on far too much if you leave it at that.

The desire for utopia lies at the root of the world's ills. We are overly narcissistic, regarding life as a simple phenomenon. The fear of oblivion has constantly tantalized humans to envision another life after this one. The inability to cope with facts has led humans to dwell in the highlands of fantasy, and the failure to grapple with the rationalization of the universe has made our earth fertile with numerous religions. All we should do is live, live to the fullest in the moments we have here, and love, love those who stopped caring for us a long time ago. As long as we keep living, all we need to do is love.

Kundera intellectualizes this simplest of things as "lightness of being." His story has its origin in Nietzsche's eternal resurrection and body-soul dualism. Compared to the existential approach to life of his main characters, the atmosphere of the whole book is rather blue. The principal act of the author's imagination is exemplified by them, which is to conceive of a paradox and express it elegantly. The paradox he is most fond of is the essential identity of opposites, and he never hesitates to express it time and again.

It could easily be a "book of sexual encounters" as we witness so much that is normally left for the reader to understand on their own, presented in an explicit manner, giving the book an artificial sort of aura. We might be lustful for a while and feel compassion at another time. The whole atmosphere and tone of the book never touch the inner chords. It seems to be merely populated by some puppets that the author had to place to exert his philosophy. I might agree with his idea of living life, but I remained completely detached from the way his characters adopted to put it into practice.

At times, I felt Kundera was desperate to clothe his philosophical musings in the robes of an erotic story, but he failed miserably on both counts. He writes beautifully, even redolently. He has that scholarly tone in his prose that we so relish in writings (recall the sumptuousness of Mary Shelley in her Frankenstein), but it just can't be taken seriously as a work of philosophical or psychological depth.

Wiped out my previous review somehow. Let's see. I really liked the combination of plot and philosophizing in this work.

It had a slow start, but as it progressed, it became quite engaging. Sometimes the good knight Sir Real shows up out of nowhere (hello and where are we exactly?).

There is a neat mix of politics, sex, and what one might call scatological logic. For example, there is a question I've never thought of before: Does God have bowels since man is made in His image? The same question is also posed regarding His Son. Apparently, one saint posited that yes, Jesus Christ did have bowels, but no, He didn't use them. So, it's the Immaculate Digestion, then.

The closing chapter is great as it centers on the main couple's dog, Karenin, named after the famous Russian cuckold. Kundera asks (quite wisely), If pets enjoy the right to a dignified death via Youths in Asia, why not humans? It's a really good question.

There is also a bit of a flashback to the Eastern European Cold War days. The Soviet oppression back then now seems to translate to Russian aggression in some ways. As the saying goes, the more things change, the more they stay the same, isn't it?

It seems rather strange that I had read Kundera seven times before, yet one of those seven books was not The Unbearable Lightness of Being. However, for some unknown reason, that's just how it happened. All I can say is that the wait was well worth it. I simply adored Immortality and Laughable Loves, and this book was every bit as excellent. In fact, I might even say I found it better.

Before I even began reading, I pondered over the cover. I knew as little as possible about the novel beforehand. Other than the fact that Prague, sex, and a dog were featured. Was it about a man who liked wearing women's underwear? Or a woman who had a thing for Bowler hats? Or perhaps a hat, a bra, and a pair of panties from three different people? Now it all becomes clear! And I can't stop thinking about Sabina's orgasmic shout!

Kundera's philosophical musings intertwined with plenty of romping didn't surprise me in the least. What did surprise me, though, was how everything came together to create a novel with characters I truly cared about. I don't think I've ever had such a warm connection with Kundera's men and women before. Oh, and of course there's Karenin too, who could forget him, and I'm usually a cat lover. How I would have loved to play catch with him, take him for walks, let him sleep at the end of my bed, and have him lick my face to wake me up in the morning. Now I want a dog!

Let's get back to the humans. Tomas is one of the four main characters, frankly born of images in Kundera's mind. All of them, to one extent or another, enact the paradox of choices that are not really choices, of courses of action that are indistinguishable in consequence from their opposite. He shows us Sabina, a painter, as she is deciding whether or not to keep her current lover, Franz, a university professor. Franz is physically strong. If he used his strength on her and ordered her around, Sabina knows she wouldn't tolerate him for more than five minutes. But he is gentle, like a pacified bear, and because she believes physical love must be violent, she finds Franz rather dull.

Either way, whatever Franz does, she will have to leave him and move on.

Sabina lives by betrayal, abandoning her family, her lovers, and, in the end, her country, in a way that condemns her to what Kundera calls a lightness of being. By this, he means an existence so lacking in commitment, fidelity, or moral responsibility to anyone else that it is unattached to the real world. By contrast, his fourth character, Tereza, the loyal wife of Tomas, suffers an unwavering love for her philandering husband that ultimately leads to his downfall in the medical profession. It's her unwillingness to live in exile that brings him back to his fate in Czechoslovakia after he has established himself nicely in a Swiss hospital. Thus, Tereza, the exact opposite of Sabina in terms of commitment and rootedness, descends under an unbearable moral burden. Weight and lightness, in the Kunderian physics, add up to the same thing. I could try to pick out the bits and pieces of the novel that stood out for me, but I can't. Because I loved everything about it, all equally. There wasn't a single moment when I thought, 'Umm, does that really need to be in there?'

This, for me, is Kundera in truly formidable form. And it's no surprise that the book was, is, and will continue to be, so popular with readers. And let's face it, would it have been so popular if it wasn't for the sex? I doubt it. But it's so much more than that, and if it isn't one of the best things I end up reading this year, then I've completely lost my mind!

Thank you, Mr Kundera. You're an absolute genius!

Making love with a woman and sleeping with a woman are two distinct passions. They are not just different but rather opposite. Love reveals itself not in the longing for copulation, which can extend to countless women, but in the yearning for shared sleep, a desire that is limited to one particular woman.

This text offers a philosophical perspective on love, passion, jealousy, and duty, set during the Russian invasion of Czechoslovakia. As you read it, you will reassess your past and present relationships. You'll wonder if the person came to you by chance, perhaps like being sent "in a bulrush basket," or if they were your other half as described in Plato's "Symposium." In either situation, would you be willing to change your life and future for that person?

Strangely, I pondered why an ex-boyfriend suddenly wanted to see me last summer, a couple of months after we broke up. I recall that he was reading this book at that time. Now, after reading it myself, I wonder if he was sent to me by chance in a foreign city, similar to how Tereza was sent to Tomas through six alterable choices he made. Or was he the person in "my" dream, my ideal who suddenly appeared in the flesh, thereby inspiring one of the strangest relationships I've ever had? And was he thinking the same thing when he saw me for the first time and then again months later?

This book truly takes the cake for having the Most Pretentious Title Ever.

Whenever people would inquire about what I was reading, I had to respond by reciting the title in a sarcastic, Oxford-Professor-of-Literature tone to convey that I was fully aware of how obnoxiously superior I sounded. Honestly, Kundera, it's high time you ease up. Just relax.

At the beginning of reading this book, I had a strong aversion to it. Kundera spends the initial two chapters indulging in philosophical meanderings before finally getting down to telling the story. And even then, his own voice constantly intrudes, injecting his personal opinions into the plot. It's like attempting to watch a movie with the director's commentary blaring in the background - all you can think is, "Shut up and let me enjoy the movie in peace!" I also felt that he was striving far too hard to be a Critically Acclaimed Author. For instance: "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."

Well, okay. Why not?

However, once he decides to unwind a little and actually present a coherent story, it becomes truly captivating. I was never overly fond of Tomas and Tereza, who love each other despite Tomas being a self-centered womanizer (Kundera expressed it more eloquently, but that's essentially the truth). Nevertheless, I believe I grasped their characters. Additionally, the last 50 or so pages of the book were simply AMAZING. They brought tears to my eyes and are the very reason this book earns four stars instead of three.

"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."

I just finished this book - I’m spent!!!!

I had no idea — REALLY what to expect.

I’m too tired, too weak to write a review— ( hungry - colonoscopy tomorrow) > plus aren’t I retired from these reviews yet?

But

I’d like to read dozens of other reviews!

I’m afraid to say what I think about it…anyway — but here goes a little ( then going back to rest) ….

I get that it’s a masterpiece— and get the overall philosophical, political, and social context —

But … I can’t help but be caught up in the ( sometimes gross details of the storytelling)….

I’m guessing this book would be banned along with all the other bullshit of banned books that’s happened this year —

But … it is TOTALLY THOUGHT PROVOKING….

So at the top of my head - while in bed miserably in pain and discomfort— just telling the truth —

I’m going to wing some thoughts here —

It’s FILLED WITH

Love & Sex —

infidelities —

mad love -

mad sex -

mad betrayal -

mad relationships -

MAD RIGHTEOUS and JUSTIFICATIONS in my opinion

Taking place in the

Prague Spring period during

Czechoslovakia history in 1968. Communism still rules

But … what stands out for me — are how much I came to want to throw Thomas under a bus!!

Wouldn’t his - OBSESSION WITH SEX -infidelities perhaps just be label a sex addict today?

The guy wanted his cake and eat it too.

He wanted his wife - and he wanted to fuck around —

Soo much justification about it too. And his wife — willing ( including her own misery about it)…

I just eventually got TOO SUCKED in with emotions.

When Thomas said a woman’s anus was the most beautiful part of a woman — I didn’t know to laugh or cry.

The way women’s body’s were described throughout— pretty face didn’t go with her saggy boobs or tush —

I don’t know — I got very judgmental—

However — it’s well written, and all that Jazz!!! It’s COMPLICATED… I’m sure I’d get more if I read it again — but I have no plans to.

But … I’m thinking of renting the movie for $2.99 …

I’ve got hours to go if not eating - but wish I could —so maybe the movie would be a good distraction…

I’ll go with the 5 stars — but not because I cared about the characters —- but because my own emotions are so much in a web of thoughts and emotions. —

And the theme between lightness and darkness… are thoughts I just might think about differently now from having read this book.

I’ve own this paper book for years — finally pull it off the shelf.

I’ll enjoy reading other reviews— I may be way off base with my feelings compared to other readers — I have no idea yet.

Blessings— Wishing others a joyful holiday season.

Rarely do I encounter a book that defiantly resists any form of categorization, keeping the reader in a state of mystification until the very end.

As you read, the book offers one insightful peek after another into the complex workings of the human psyche. But when it concludes, whatever the narrative managed to enclose within the span of a few hundred pages vanishes like a puff of smoke, leaving no tangible evidence of its previous existence.

I might perhaps be accused of being overly eager to draw parallels between the title 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' and my own experiences with the book. However, as much as there may be a grain of truth in that accusation, the book did make me feel exactly as I described. It made me experience a kind of dizzying lightness after I finished it, making my existence seem inconsequential, as if I am always making more of my life than it actually is, just like Tomas, Tereza, Franz, and Sabina.

Essentially, this is a novel of ideas, so flexible and constantly changing that it can easily adapt to fit the shape of one's mind. In fact, I believe that different readers will arrive at different interpretations after reading.

While穿梭于 its four main characters' lives and their individual reflections on various subjects, the narrative manages to capture the struggles of a nation caught in the vice-like grip of Soviet persecution, while also occasionally losing its way in a thread of philosophical rumination.

What constitutes real suffering? Is the threat of Communism spreading across Eastern Europe the real ailment leading to the continuous cycle of oppression perpetuated by totalitarian regimes, or are all political ideologies capable of sowing the seeds of future conflict? Are humans inherently averse to the status quo, or does there exist a general human resistance to both change and continuity? Does romantic love truly embed itself in the Platonic theory of finding the missing pieces of ourselves, or is that just a mere attempt on our part to dramatize an utterly mundane occurrence? Is love the end result of a fortunate crossing of two different paths, or is it an amorphous entity that lies somewhere in the realm of the incomprehensible and the ineffable? Don't we often mistake commiseration for love, imagining our emotional attachment to people and places rather than actually experiencing it?

Milan Kundera leaves us with a plethora of disturbing existential questions to ponder, but he doesn't bother to answer any of them definitively. Instead, he chooses to leave us in the middle of a fruitful discussion where the reader is as much a participant as the writer. Perhaps because there are no clear-cut answers to these questions. For as much as we strive to extract meaning from the jumbled mess of our lives, assigning some greater significance to each of our decisions, actions, or sentiments, ultimately, every one of them is rooted in the fundamental need for some deeply personal, even absurd wish fulfillment.

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

P.S.:- I'll never view the word 'kitsch' in the same way again.

P.P.S:- Do read it if you haven't already.

\\n  The Unbelievable Lightness of The Novel\\n

In 2008, I embarked on reading this novel. I made significant progress before an unknown reason caused me to halt my reading, and it was soon forgotten. Recently, while in a bookstore, I chanced upon the book and realized I had never completed it. Since I couldn't recall precisely where I had left off, I decided to start anew. I was fairly certain I hadn't read more than 30 pages or so.

I had no recollection of spending a long time reading it. I only remembered commencing it and some fragmented details about infidelities and the Russian occupation of the Czech. So, I began reading, convinced that soon a page would arrive where the story would be fresh and unread.

Soon, I reached the fiftieth page, and to my astonishment, as I read each page, I could vividly remember every scene, every philosophical argument, even the exact quotes and the sequence of events that followed the scene I was reading. However, no matter how hard I tried, I could never remember what was coming two pages further into the novel.

"This is the consequence of reading serious books lightly and not according them the attention they merit," I reproached myself, angry at the thought that my habit of reading multiple books simultaneously must have been the culprit. I must, perhaps at the risk of seeming boastful, state that the reason this bothered me so much was that I had always prided myself on being able to remember the books I read almost verbatim. This experience of reading a book I had read before, with this strange sense of knowing and forgetting simultaneously, the two sensations swirling around each other and taunting me, was completely disorienting. I felt as if I were in some surreal world where everything that was to come was already known to me but was still being revealed one step out of sync with my perception of time.

This continued, to my bewilderment, well into the two hundredth page. Even now, I couldn't shake the persistent expectation that the story was about to venture into unread new territories just 2 or 3 pages ahead of where I was. Every line I read, I could remember having read before. Despite making this mistake through so many pages, I still couldn't help but tell myself that this time, surely, I had reached the part where I must have last closed the book three years ago.

Now, I have reached the last few pages of the book and am still attempting to come to terms with what it was about this novel that made me forget it, even though I identified with the author's views and was never bored with the plot. Was this an intentional effect or just an aberration? Will I have the same feeling if I pick up the book again a few years from now?

I also feel a tinge of anger towards the author for playing this trick on me, for leading me to read the entire book again without offering anything new that I hadn't already gleaned from the first reading. Usually, when I decide to reread a book, I do so with the understanding that I will gain something new from the experience, but Kundera gave me none of that.

What I do appreciate about this reading experience is this: as stated in the novel, anything that happens only once might as well have not happened at all - does it then follow that any novel that can be read only once might as well have not been read at all?

Beethoven & The Art of The Sublime

To conclude, I will relate an argument from the book that, in hindsight, helps me explain the experience:

Kundera discusses (yes, the book is rife with Kundera shattering the 'Fourth Wall' and engaging in conversation with the reader, the characters, and even himself) an anecdote about how Beethoven composed one of his greatest quartets inspired by a silly joke he shared with a friend.

So, Beethoven transformed a frivolous inspiration into a serious quartet, a joke into a metaphysical truth. Strangely enough, this transformation doesn't surprise us. On the other hand, we would have been shocked if Beethoven had transformed the seriousness of his quartet into a trifling joke. First (as an unfinished sketch) would have come the great metaphysical truth, and last (as a finished masterpiece) - the most frivolous of jokes!

I like to think that Kundera achieved this reverse proposition with this novel, and that explains how I felt about it. And, yes, I finished reading the second last line of the book fully aware of what the last line of the novel was going to be.

I felt this book was highly contrived. It seemed as if the author was desperately striving to come across as intellectual. However, instead of achieving that, he simply came off as egotistical.

Right from the start, the meandering discussions about Nietzsche were rather off-putting. Quite frankly, the author made statements that I couldn't agree with, yet he proceeded as if they were absolute truths that everyone must believe in.

The characters in this book were extremely boring. The prose lacked any real interest. There was a distinct absence of emotion and depth. And how many times did I have to endure hearing about him plucking the woman from the reed basket? It was truly tiresome.

Another reviewer aptly mentioned slogging through both life and this book, and I couldn't agree more. Reading this book felt like a chore, which is not at all what we expect when we pick up a book. I finally "gave up the ghost" and didn't read it all the way through. But let's face it, bad is bad, and I couldn't envision how this book was going to turn itself around.

This author has crafted a facade. He weaves a seemingly good story, using lots of smoke and mirrors with words that sound intellectual, but in reality, there is no genuine depth.

In conclusion, I would highly recommend that people avoid this book. There are far better ways to spend their time.

Robin
[email protected]
Medieval fantasy series: The Crown Conspiracy (Oct 2008), Avempartha (April 2009)
Upcoming Book Signings at: http://www.michaelsullivan-author.com...

A pesar de ser un clásico y un libro muy conocido, sólo puedo darle tres estrellas. Aunque desearía otorgarle cinco, porque en realidad el libro lo merece, no puedo asignarle la máxima puntuación a un libro que no comprendo completamente.

Hay que admitir que es un libro difícil y complicado. Tiene apenas 350 páginas, pero he tardado más de dos semanas en leerlo. Y no es porque me aburriese o no le dedicase tiempo, sino que en numerosas ocasiones he tenido que releer lo mismo para intentar comprenderlo un poco mejor. Sin embargo, no he logrado entenderlo del todo.

El autor presenta un sinnúmero de cuestiones filosóficas que a veces resultan difíciles de comprender, pero que también se quedan grabadas en el lector. Por ejemplo, frases como "El hombre nunca puede saber qué debe querer, porque vive sólo una vida y no tiene modo de compararla con sus vidas precedentes ni enmendarla en sus vidas posteriores" o "Lo que ocurre necesariamente, lo esperado, lo que se repite todos los días, es mudo. Sólo la casualidad nos habla". Además, podemos encontrar palabras que comparten origen con el autor y que no tienen traducción, como "Kitsch", lo que requiere un esfuerzo adicional de concentración.

Otra de mis dudas se refiere a quién cuenta la historia. La mayoría del tiempo se trata de un narrador omnisciente que todo lo sabe, pero a veces habla en primera persona y se implica en la historia. Esto me ha hecho pensar que, tal vez al final del libro, se aclararía quién es el narrador.

En cuanto a los personajes, Tomas me ha provocado diferentes sentimientos. He sentido lástima por él, lo he admirado y también me ha creado repulsión. ¿Cómo un hombre íntegro no le da importancia a una vida de infidelidades constantes? Y pobre Teresa, sobre todo por el dolor de saber casi en todo momento lo que su marido hace. La frase mil veces repetida del olor del pelo de Tomas simplemente me impacta negativamente.

Sabina y Franz son el complemento perfecto para conocer los tipos de personas que podemos encontrar en la vida. El fragmento en el que el autor habla de "cómo le gusta a cada persona ser vista" y compara a los cuatro personajes con esos distintos puntos de vista es fantástico.

En definitiva, creo que es un gran libro, pero que debo volver a leer en unos años, a ver si mi mente está más abierta a cuestiones filosóficas. Además, este libro entra dentro de mi lista de #1001librosqueleerantesdemorir. Pueden encontrar el enlace a mi blog en http://unablogueraeventual.com/1001-l....

Milan Kundera studied music and became an expert in it. He incorporates music into almost all of his novels, and he can connect music with the characters in his novels in an amazing way. Even his similes and metaphors borrow some of their beauty from music. Kundera is also a philosopher. He has the desire and the ability to philosophize about everything, even the most trivial and superficial things. For example, he turns sex into a spiritual matter. It's not just a physical struggle between two people trying to achieve a sensual pleasure and that's it. He turns it into a spiritual, emotional, and intellectual philosophy. And we, the readers, are able to soar in a sky of noble emotions and aesthetic beauty.

Kundera never writes an "autobiography" to tell his life story. Many people have asked him to do so, but he has always refused. When he is asked in press conferences: "Since you don't write an autobiography, have you included parts of your life in your novels or let some of your characters live a part of your life?" He always says: "No way!" Kundera is lying. After people study his life story and understand his life path from the beginning until now, and after they read his novels, they will know that he has inserted a piece of himself into every novel, and with every character, he allows himself to intervene and speak a little in their voice.
People who have read "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" will notice that he sometimes steps out of the plot and starts talking about politics, music, or philosophy. That's his life. Kundera doesn't like to write an easy novel. The reader has to work a little to get the pleasure. So when you read a novel like "The Unbearable Lightness of Being", you feel confused. The novel is divided into chapters, and sometimes the chapters have different protagonists. You read and can't connect all of this in your mind. In the end, you will know that all of this is connected, and there are hidden threads that connect all of these events and characters. This is a favorite theme of Kundera. He repeats it in many novels. People who have read the novel "Immortality", for example, will know what I mean.
Kundera loves to explore the human soul. His first hobby is to dissect the soul and determine its motives and desires that drive it, especially in matters of love and human relationships. In short, you are reading a different writer here. A writer who is capable and wants to say something specific. With Kundera, things never go randomly. Every word and every expression is in its right place. And despite all of this, his novels are surrounded by a huge number of viewpoints. If a million people read his novel, each one of them will come out with a different viewpoint from the others. And that's the beauty in it.
In his novels, Kundera ignores the appearance and searches for the essence. The motives and reasons that drive the character in a certain direction, changing the emotions from love to hate, and from passion to boredom. The relationship between Tomas and Tereza, and the one between Sabina and Franz is a great example of this. Tereza, who is killed by love despite the betrayal, and Tomas, who despite his deep love for Tereza, is unable to stop betraying her. One woman is not enough for him. And this is a never-convincing argument, especially for a woman in love like Tereza. Franz, the gentle and kind "betrayer" of his wife for the sake of "Sabina", and "Sabina", who is looking for violence and harshness, and is not satisfied with the softness with which Franz treats her. The characters are tormented, they have a thousand desires conflicting within them. Devils and angels. And these contradictions resulting from all this struggle are what paint the novel with a unique human beauty.
The unique political background with which Kundera decorates his novels was very suitable for telling the events and following them in this way. Politics in the novel was never imposed forcefully, but it was a major complement. "The Prague Spring" was a very unjustly publicized event. Kundera is almost the only person I have read about this subject in his novels. Thank you, Kundera, for the unique gift.