Romanian review: Cu respect vă raportez că romanul lui Jaroslav Hašek nu și-a pierdut hazul odată cu trecerea timpului. Hašek a reușit să creeze unul dintre cele mai haioase personaje din istoria omenirii, satira acestei cărți și mesajul anti-război păstrându-și actualitatea și la peste o sută de ani de la publicarea povestirilor lui Švejk.
Cu respect vă raportez că cel mai mare mister care rămâne după ce întorci ultima pagină este dacă Švejk chiar era atât de idiot sau juca teatru. Dacă Švejk își simula aparenta prostie, atunci este mai degrabă un geniu, reușind să supraviețuiască unei perioade extrem de sumbre din istoria omenirii, păzindu-se de unele dintre cele mai mari pericole ale războiului. Practic, nu cred că este un spoiler să spun că, deși romanul este destul de stufos și plin de evenimente, Švejk nu ajunge până la sfârșit să lupte pe front. Bravul soldat reușește cumva să dea dintr-o încurcătură în alta, să fie arestat pentru diverse neînțelegeri sau prostii pe care le face, culmea absurdului fiind atinsă când este arestat de propria tabăra pentru spionaj, astfel încât nu participă la nicio luptă până la sfârșitul romanului. Este adevărat că autorul intenționa să continue povestea, însă a murit înainte să aibă timp să-și desăvârșească opera, dar am o bănuială că Švejk ar fi continuat să petreacă timpul învârtindu-se dintr-un loc în altul, în loc să participe activ la luptele pe front.
Hašek scrie mult despre absurditatea războiului, însă am rămas cu senzația că subiectul pe care se concentrează cu adevărat este ridicolul și stupiditatea birocrației din armată. Se ajunge până la punctul în care soldaților li se ordonă chiar și când să își facă nevoile, mesajul este ceva mai subtil decât îl fac eu să sune, dar oricum, atât de departe ajunge autorul în a ridiculiza lipsa de gândire liberă cerută unui soldat. Švejk ironizează, la rândul său, comandamentul și, în general, conducerea armatei austriece, prin intermediul unor anectode interminabile care ajung să îi îmbolnăvească de nervi pe cei din jurul lui. Partea cea mai amuzantă este că, de cele mai multe ori, anectodele lui nu au nicio treabă cu discuția anterioară sau cu ce se întâmplă în momentul respectiv.
Influența pe care a avut-o romanul scriitorului ceh se poate observa foarte ușor în romanul Catch-22, dar și în filme precum Forrest Gumb sau seriale ca M.A.S.H (Locotenentul Dub îmi amintește de maiorul Frank Burns din îndrăgitul sitcom american).
Cu respect vă raportez că ,,Peripețiile bravului soldat Švejk" poate, pe alocuri, să fie prea lentă pentru unele gusturi, însă întâmplările prin care trece nătărăul soldat ceh au un farmec aparte, iar mesajul anti-război și ironia subtilă sau mai puțin subtilă la adresa birocrației armatei și a numărului mare de incompetenți care ajung să capete grade înalte sunt nemuritoare.



English review: I dutifully report that Jaroslav Hašek's novel has not lost its humor with the passage of time. Hašek succeeded in creating one of the funniest characters in the history of mankind, and the satire and anti-war message of this book remain relevant more than a hundred years after the publication of Švejk's stories.
I dutifully report that the biggest mystery that remains after you turn the last page is whether Švejk was really that stupid or he was just acting. If Švejk was feigning his apparent stupidity, then he is more likely a genius, having managed to survive an extremely bleak period in human history by warding off some of the greatest dangers of war. Basically, I don't think it's a spoiler to say that, although the novel is quite dense and eventful, Švejk doesn't end up fighting on the frontline by the end. The brave soldier somehow manages to get from one mess to another, getting arrested for various misunderstandings or stupid things he does, the height of absurdity being reached when he is arrested by his own side for spying, so he doesn't take part in any combat. It is true that the author intended to continue the story, but he died before he had time to complete his work, but I have a suspicion that Švejk would have continued to spend his time wandering from place to place rather than actively participating in the fighting at the front.
Hašek writes a lot about the absurdity of war, but I was left with the feeling that the subject he really focuses on is the ridiculousness and stupidity of army bureaucracy. It gets to the point where soldiers are even ordered when to relieve themselves, the message is a little more subtle than I make it sound, but that's as far as the author goes in ridiculing the lack of free thinking required of a soldier. Švejk in turn mocks the command and generally the leadership of the Austrian army, through endless anectodes that end up making those around him lose their mind. The funniest part is that most of the time his anectodes have nothing to do with the previous discussion or what is going on at the moment.
The influence of the Czech writer's novel can easily be seen in the novel Catch-22, but also in movies like Forrest Gumb or TV shows like M.A.S.H (Lieutenant Dub reminds me of Major Frank Burns from the beloved American sitcom).
I dutifully report that "The Fateful Adventures of the Good Soldier Švejk During the World War" may, at times, be too slow for some tastes, but the events that the goofy Czech soldier goes through have a special charm, and the anti-war message and the subtle or not so subtle irony about army bureaucracy and the large number of incompetents who end up in high ranks are timeless.

I bought this in 1980 as a treat for finishing my A levels. I was attracted by the garish bright yellow cover and the cartoonish character on the front.

It took me into a new world, portraying the kaleidoscope of the Austo Hungarian empire through the lense of the only loyal Czech private in the whole army. Sadly Svejk is a hopeless idiot, and his part in the war is of no use to Franz Joseph.

A rambling, irreverent, irreligious and bawdy mess of a book - the author wrote the book in installments for a newspaper so had every incentive to spin it out - nontheless it is a glorious paean to the pointlessness of war. The various nationalities of the AH Empire spent more time fighting each other than they ever did the Russians.

According to Wikipedia this was also partly the inspiration for Catch 22. God bless you Mr Hasek.

If you are in Prague one of the inns mentioned in the book is still there - U Kalicha in Na Bojisti st. A bit touristy but worth a visit, and good for a beer. Been there, got the beer mat.

Jaroslav Hasek was a bit of a character too. If you get the chance read The Bad Bohemian by Cecil Parrott, which sets out the life of this anarchistic rabble rouser. In my favourite passage, he helped set up a political party called the Party for Moderate Progress Within the Bounds of The Law, partly as a surreal response to onerous political restrictions, but also partly for cheap beer. We need more of this in our world.

You do not find them much better! A delightful book, full of humour and with a great anti hero as MC.
The clever ways our good soldier tries to escape battle (and at the same time he convinces everyone he cannot wait to go to the war) are really entertaining. The social criticism is effective as it is brought in a humourous way.
Reading this novel, I found it sometimes hard to realize it had been written almost a century ago.

Humbly report, Sir, but I've been reading this book called  The Good Soldier Švejk which I had not planned to read as part of my World War I project, but there you have it. It's a satire of the stupidity of war, of governments and armies and regulations, of class struggles. Of being a Czech, and nevertheless in the Austrian army. To deal with the absurdity of it all, you need an anti-hero. Which would be this guy:



Švejk.

One buffoonerous episode...



follows another...



and another...



Yes, the drawings are in the book and add to the anarchy fun.

People say this book has its roots in  Don Quixote, but there's Shandian digressions, too, and, as a character, Švejk has plenty of Bartleby in him. But he's funnier, more complex, and wiser, much wiser, despite his protestations of idiocy. It's obviously credited as spawning  Catch-22, and yes, it's an anti-war novel. But when a few almost-enlightened characters did a double-take, a facial tic of wonder if the imbecile might just be putting them on, I thought of Chauncey Gardiner too.

'Listen, Švejk, are you really God's prize oaf?'

'Humbly report, Sir,' Švejk answered solemnly, 'I am. Ever since I was little I have had bad luck like that.'

I was thinking of all these things, as I was almost done with the book, and the et ux and I decided to take a five-mile walk around a nearby lake. The path follows a roadway, one mile of which was under repair, a widening project, what they call it, which had been in progress for six months and was days from completion.

We walked as far as the section under repair. Years of parochial education have resulted in my following even the most pedantic of rules (and a good handful of the Ten Commandments, by the way), so I stopped us at the three big ROAD CLOSED signs. However, there is something about a freshly paved roadway, with brightly painted yellow and white lines. There was just some guardrail work being done. We asked some of the worker bees whether we could continue on and they couldn't think why not, and we couldn't think why not either, this being America and all. Can I have a little Woody Guthrie please!

As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said "No Trespassing."
But on the other side it didn't say nothing,
That side was made for you and me.

Thank you.

And it was indeed a beautiful ribbon of highway. I tipped my cap to the workers, who tipped their caps back at me. All was well.

At about the halfway point through the 'construction area', a white pick-up truck with a flashing yellow light on top came speeding up from behind us, screeching to a stop at our side. What he said was, 'This is a NO TRESPASSING area!' but I think what he meant was Sir, you have rubbed the bloom off my virginity.

To which the et ux offered, 'My husband said it was okay.'

The officious man in the white pick-up truck now knew which guilty party to glare at. So, I offered, 'This reminds me of the time the et ux and I were driving back from Illinois and where the highway goes in a big circle around Indianapolis the speed limit went from 75 miles per hour to 55 miles per hour, with not enough warning, if you know what I mean. So I got pulled over. The local gendarme walked up to the car, identifying himself and explaining why he was compelled to stop me, only to be interrupted by the et ux, who leaned over to say, 'I told him to slow down!' My hands on the wheel, I waited for her to continue with 'but he never listens when he's drinking' but the hand of God must have stopped her.'

'You're a smart-aleck,' said the white pick-up truck.

'Humbly report, that view has its supporters, but then there's those that vote for feeble-minded. But anyway, baszom az anyát, baszom az istenet, baszom a Kristus Máriát, baszom az astyádot, baszom a világot.'

'What's your name?'

'Švejk.'

'Shvayk?'

'No, Švejk. Just like it's spelled.'

'You're not Shvayk.' (this from the et ux.)

'Well, you can't walk here.'

I decide to be quiet and let him figure this out. The sign on his door says FOLINO CONSTRUCTION and not MCCANDLESS TOWNSHIP POLICE DEPARTMENT. We are one-half mile from where we came and one-half mile from where we are going. We do not have a helicopter. The most ardent profiler could not perceive the two old people that we are as terrorists, nor is this new roadway likely on any Top 100 Infrastructure Thingies We'd Like to Blow Up List in Jihad Monthly. So, here we were, waiting for the man Mr. Folino thought enough of to let him have a spinning yellow light on top of his truck to figure this out. As Švejk would say, he had a well-developed talent for observation when it's already too late and some unpleasantness has happened.

We were let off with a warning.

We walked through the construction zone, and about a mile more in silence. Then the et ux said, 'You're writing a review, aren't you Mr. Shvayk?'

'Why yes I am. And it's Švejk.'

'That book with the cartoon on the cover?'

'Somewhat famous drawings by Josef Lada, but yes.'

'What's it about?'

'It's a satire, with a seeming bumbling idiot for a protagonist who goes on one misadventure after another, but with the clear purpose, if you read it correctly, of not getting anywhere near the front lines during World War I and getting himself killed.'

'A satire?'

'Yes. A satire. Which is tricky because the people who are spoofed in a satire are pretty much guaranteed not to see the humor in it. It reminds me of the guy who would be making dinner and his wife would walk behind him making sure he closed all the drawers he opened so that crumbs wouldn't fall in. Or would stand there when he returned from taking the garbage out or walk out of the bathroom and just stare at his hands until he got the point that he should wash his hands. Or freeze in her tracks when she heard ice cubes drop into a glass fearing the end of the world or that maybe vodka would follow......'

'That's not funny.'

----- ----- ----- -----

Švejk was explaining: You see, it's not so hard to get in somewhere. Anyone can do that, but getting out again needs real military skill. When a chap gets in somewhere, he has to know about everything that's going on around him, so as not to find himself in a jam suddenly - what's called a catastrophe.

----- ----- ----- -----

Humbly report, Sir.

Nie ma jak oddać życie za miłościwie nam panującego Franciszka Józefa i jego rodzinę!

Zdecydowanie powieść antywojenna w wykonaniu Haska trafiła mnie w miękkie, choć niektóre z tych niekończących się szwejkowych anegdot, po pierwszym zachłyśnięciu paplaniną dobrego wojaka, pod koniec lektury zaczęło trochę mnie nużyć. Opis armijnych absurdów i klimat tego niezwykłego miejsca w czasie i przestrzeni jakim było schyłkowe Cesarstwo Austro - Węgierskie skutecznie przykuło mnie do słuchawek.

Jestem zatem pod wielkim wrażeniem tak samej powieści, jak interpretacji świetnych aktorów: Fronczewski, Kwiatkowska, Zborowski, Barciś, Pyrkosz, Kowalewski no i sam Szwejk grany przez Sławomira Packa - mistrzostwo świata.

Probably the funniest book ever written about the first world war.

This isn't really a novel, more of a series of anecdotes linked together by a few characters and whose narrative drive grows weaker as the work progresses. It was written in instalments and I have never heard tell that there was an overall plan for the book.

Much of what happens and even bizarre stories like the editor who invented new animals to write about for a regular animal magazine are drawn from Hašek's own experiences.

It was written after the war and after the author's experience as a Bolshevik Commissar, and so is looking back on the vanished world of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

Probably more by the accident of the author's early, alcohol related death than by design, an ongoing joke is that the Czech soldiers spend their free time fighting Hungarian soldiers, teasing Polish troops and getting round bumbling German officers all of whom are, technically at least, mutually united in the service of His Imperial Majesty Franz-Josef II.

Naturally since the story was written after the Empire had been broken up in to a number of countries, two of which in turn no longer exist, and for the explicit purpose of amusing the Czech reading public in order to earn money to spend on drink, national stereotypes as well as devotion and loyalty to the old empire are played for laughs.

The earliest section featuring Svejk developing arthritis to avoid being called up as a reservist, photographed in his wheelchair cheering on the troops leaving for the front, a spell in a lunatic asylum, getting drafted and gambled away by a drunken field chaplain, then loosing himself on his way to join his regiment but succeeding in not being tried for desertion is possibly the funniest. Although I have a grim appreciation of the cadet officer sent to a cholera hospital after having brought diarrhoea upon himself by scoffing all the chocolates he had been sent from home. The cholera hospital being understood as a nobler alternative than the embarrassing truth which pretty much sums up the tone of the work - a delight in the self-defeating idiocy of the entire endeavour.

There are at least two serious reasons for the English speaker to read this. Firstly it is part of the war that wasn't the Western front. The Western front so looms up in our historical imagination that the millions who also died and survived on the Eastern Front, on the Italian Front, fighting in the Ottoman Empire, in Africa and a few other places are easily forgotten and often overlooked. Secondly it is a comic, not a tragic view of the war. This is the other side of the war - there were some people who felt like winners. Citizens of new states that emerged out of the rubble of old empires, dusting off their shoulders and feeling relatively upbeat (at least for a few years) about their place in a new Europe.

چه کمدی سیاهی. دنیای شوایک چه مضحک و حقیقی است. هجویه‌ای برای تمسخر جنگ، تمسخر نظام و دولت، تمسخر من و شما. قبل از معرفی به جمله‌ی مشهوری از برتولت برشت استناد میکنم :
"چنانچه لازم باشد از سه اثر نام ببریم که ادبیات جهانی قرن ما را آفریده اند, یکی از آنها بی تردید شوایک سرباز غیور است".
شوایک، نه قهرمان بلکه ضد قهرمان این کتاب، مرد میان سال ابلهی است که تا پیش از جنگ به سگ فروشی مشغول بوده و حال با شنیدن نوای جنگ، دست به هر کاری می‌زند که خود را به جبهه‌ی جنگ برساند و اتفاقات بعدی را رقم بزند. در این رمان طویل اما کسی صدای توپ و تفنگ نمی شنود. خبری از جان نثاری‌ها و شهادت‌ها و جراحت‌های سنگین و بوی خون و استفراغ نیست. تمامی آن در به دری‌ها و ماجراهای شوایک با مافوق‌ها و گیج‌ بازی‌های مضحکش است.
اما چگونه کتابی طنز که حتی به توصیف دقیق از صحنه‌ی جنگ هم نمی‌پردازد، در طول سالیان تبدیل به سمبل ضد جنگ و یکی از مهم‌ترین دستاوردهای ادبیات و به بیش از پنجاه زبان ترجمه شده است؟
به عقیده‌ی من شوایک نه تنها نقدی به جنگ بلکه نقدی به جهان قرن بیستم است. انسان‌هایی منفعل، زود باور و گوش به فرمان که عقلشان دست بالا دستی‌ها است و هر مضخرفی که آنها بگویند برایشان حجت است و در نهایت هم فکر می‌کنند مشغول سازندگی هستند غافل از اینکه دارند به همه چیز گند میزنند.

کافکا و هاشک، یوزف کا و یوزف شوایک :

کافکا و هاشک هر دو چک تبار بودند و بنا بر مقدمه‌ی کتاب، رفیق. کافکا هرچه گوشه‌گیر و خجالتی بود، این یکی روز و شبش در بار ها به عرق خوری و معاشرت با دوستانش می‌گذشت. این شد که اولی محاکمه را نوشت و یوزف کا را آفرید و دومی دست به آفرینش یوزف شوایک زد. با وجود اختلاف سبک به عقیده‌ی من جهان این دو کتاب به شکل عجیبی با هم شباهت دارند. هر دو جهانی را توصیف میکنند که پیش از آنکه عجیب باشد، مضحک و ابزورد است. یک چیزی مثل همان دور باطل یا به قولی یک جای کار می‌لنگد. کما اینکه ما هیچ وقت به تحلیل نهایی این دو نابغه نمیرسیم ، چون هر دو اثر ناقص ماند. ( مهم ترین دلیلم برای چهار ستاره دادن )
حین خواندن شوایک شما ممکن است به بسیاری کارهای او بخندید، ولی بعد از خواندن آن کمی تعلل کنید. چند شوایک در دور و بر خود می بینید و خود چقدر نقش شوایک را بازی کردید؟

شوایک با وجود ناقص بودنش، مهم‌ترین دستاورد ادبیات چک محسوب میشود که تبدیل به یک نماد در اروپای شرقی شده است. بسیاری آن را رمانی تکان دهنده و دل نشین میپندارند که با نقاشی‌های یوزف لادا ترکیب شده و شخصیتی به یادگار میگذارد که از یاد نخواهید برد ( امکان ندارد نقاشی‌های لادا را ببینید و لبخند نزنید ). بسیاری از آن تاثیر گرفته‌اند از جمله جوزف هلر که با نگاهی به این رمان ، تبصره ۲۲ را نوشت که خود تبدیل به نماد و مفهوم جدیدی در زبان انگلیسی شد ( که البته من این کتاب را نخوانده‌م ) و یا همین ایرج پزشکزاد خودمان و دایی جان ناپلئونش که این کتاب را بسیار دوست میدارد و بخش اول این رمان را هم ترجمه کرد و گویا برای خلق شخصیت مش قاسم نگاهی هم به شوایک انداخته.
من باب ترجمه هم بگویم که ترجمه‌ی بسیار بسیار بی نظیر و شسته رفته‌ای داشت این آقای ظاهری. حتی اشعار و ترانه‌ها را هم موزون درآورده بود و روی لهجه‌ها و گویش‌های تک تک افراد کار کرده بود و پاورقی‌های خوبی هم داشت. شاید این کتاب برای ما به اندازه خود اهالی اروپای شرقی خنده‌دار نباشد، درست مثل دایی‌ جان ما ولی تضمین میکنم که حین خواندنش لبخند از صورتتان محو نشود اگر به دقت بخوانید.

۱۴۰۰/۰۶/۱۱

The Czech antidote to Heller’s Catch-22 (a wonderful but overpraised anti-war satire), this anarchistic (and openly misogynistic) classic is bolder, bawdier, barmier and another B-bouncing word than Heller’s similar book thing. The premise here is that the balding and plump Švejk (or so he appears in the smile-raising illustrations) pretends to be an idiot to “dodge the draft,” but his motivations are deeper and his brain power plumper—he remembers his officer’s orders verbatim and is able to parrot their barked orders back at them, riling his superiors simply by showing up their lamebrained hypocrisy at every opportunity. The remarkable thing about this not-always-hilarious, but relentlessly entertaining book is that Hašek was an educated hobo who spent his time bumming the railroads, pulling this masterpiece out his pants while living a true on-the-edge anarchist life. The novel is punk slapstick. The comedy here spins out into shows like Bilko, Dad’s Army, MASH (asterisks omitted) and so on—with nice and nasty satirical strafings and knifings for fans of that kind of thing. Essential for all ages 3 and up.

El buen soldado Svejk es un personaje bastante estúpido, torpe, bocón; siempre con una anécdota para cada situación, exasperando a pares y superiores con sus historias desternillantes.
En los albores de la primer guerra mundial se alista en el ejército transitando complejas desventuras, que con su idiotez no hace más que recalcar el sinsentido de la guerra, la milicia, el clero, dejando en evidencia todo un sistema ridículo.
El teniente Dub, el glotón Baloun, el capellán Katz, una galería de personajes fabulosos e inolvidables.
Estas ochocientas páginas comprenden tres volúmenes de seis que tenía pensado escribir Hašek de no ser por su estilo de vida alcohólico y juerguero que lo arrastró a una muerte temprana.
Se dice que hay mucho de autobiográfico y es posible.
Hoy día semejante troncho de libraco puede resultar cansino y repetitivo, quizás lo ideal sea leerlo como originalmente fue publicado, por capítulos.
Leerlo a lo largo de un año en lugar de un mes como en mi caso hubiera favorecido su disfrute.
De todas formas es una lectura muy entretenida con tintes de Kafka (contemporáneo) en sus pasajes burocráticos, y bastante del querido e inefable Ignatius Reilly (posterior) del malogrado JK Toole, otro escritor de carrera corta y temprano deceso.

Jaroslav Hasek was Czech writer largely known for the writing of this novel, which as been translated into 60 languages.

Svejk is a naif or a fool who does not seem to be able to comprehend the atrocities that are happening around him. If he is sent to jail, that's a good thing. If he is interrogated by the police on suspicion of subversive activity, he has every faith the officials know what they are doing.

He spends an inordinate time in jail as different governing officials try to figure out what he has done wrong, torturing him to get him to admit crimes that he has no clue about. Yet his faith in the eptitude of government work never falters and he congratulates and celebrates all the horrible things that happens to him.

He is sent to a mental asylum, because his answers are so simple and silly, he must be mentally incompetent.

Later when he is freed, he is followed by policemen to try to catch him committing crimes against the state. He even joins the Austrian Army, although he has rheumatic athritis and must go to war in a wheelchair.

The book is an exercise in buffoonery, but like Court Jesters and other buffoons, it makes clear that the absurdity lies in the "sane" people who abuse their authority over common citizens.

Really the whole method of writing is a very acute and deft satire on the atrocities committed to helpless citizens who have no means of exercising their rights as human beings.

The situations and calamities that befall Svejk made me think of Stalin's mock trials and gulags, but I had to remind myself that this was written before the Soviet Empire really got rolling, since Hasek died in 1922.

Which shows that governments ignoring basic human rights pre-dates many of the later despotic regimes. Anyone reading about the welfare of soldiers during the Crimean War will understand that.

аудіоверсія. василю мазуру - респект, книжка страшно занудна, але натепер - достобіса актуальна. швейк - ідіот, але там, власне, всі ідіоти на війні, божевільня світу, єдине, що тішить - гарний переклад масляка (хоч й багато русизмів - але ж то пак радянський час винен), бо по молодості пробував читати російською - і то просто фє якась. масляк+мазур = врятували занудну книгу.

این کتاب رو به عنوان بهترین کتاب چک معرفی کرده بودن. شوایک سرباز خیلی سفیهی هست! خیلی صادقانه با همه چیز رو به رو میشه که این نوع برخوردش گاهی برای خودش و حتی اطرافیانش هم دردسر درست می کنه! مخصوصاً که در جنگ جهانی هم هستند و به خاطر کمبود نیرو حتی معاف شده ها رو هم به جنگ می خونن و به این ترتیب پای شوایک به محیط ها نظامی هم باز میشه

با توجه به تم طنز کتاب، ترجمه ایرج پزشکزاد ازش ترجمه خوب و مناسبی بود.
تو این روزا که هنوزم خواه ناخواه فکر آدم درگیر جریانات بعد از انتخابات ایرانه این کتاب که با فضای طنزش به خیلی چیزا تیکه انداخته بود به دلم نشست. تنها کتابی بود که نصفه نذاشتمش زمین و تونستم تمومش کنم


جمعه 23 مرداد 88