turns out an unbearable lightness and an unsustainable heaviness aren't that different, after all.

anyway, this book is whip-smart and brain-expanding, a real pleasure to read. i don't even want to get into it - i'd prefer the pleasure stand on its own.

if you like feeling smart, working hard for your books, philosophical vibes, or books with cool titles...read this please!

bottom line: a book that speaks enough for itself!

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currently-reading updates

and the Greatest Title Of All Time award goes to............

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tbr review

more like the unbearably HEAVY BURDEN of being am i right

(Book 256 From 1001 Books) - Nesnesitelná lehkost bytí = L’insoutenable légèreté de l’être = The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera

The Unbearable Lightness of Being is a 1984 novel by Milan Kundera, about two women, two men, a dog and their lives in the 1968 Prague Spring period of Czechoslovak history.

From the book: “The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become. Conversely, the absolute absence of burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant. What then shall we choose? Weight or lightness? ...When we want to give expression to a dramatic situation in our lives, we tend to use metaphors of heaviness. We say that something has become a great burden to us. We either bear the burden or fail and go down with it, we struggle with it, win or lose. And Sabina – what had come over her? Nothing. She had left a man because she felt like leaving him. Had he persecuted her? Had he tried to take revenge on her? No. Her drama was a drama not of heaviness but of lightness. What fell to her lot was not the burden, but the unbearable lightness of being.”

عنوانها: «بار هستی»؛ «کلاه کلمنتیس»؛ نویسنده: میلان کوندرا؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش روز هشتم ماه سپتامبر سال 1987میلادی؛ و بار دوم سال2007میلادی

عنوان: بار هستی؛ نویسنده: میلان کوندرا؛ مترجم: پرویز همایون پور؛ مشخصات نشر تهران، گفتار، 1365، در 275ص، موضوع: داستانهای نویسندگان چک - سده ی 20م

عنوان: کلاه کلمنتیس؛ نویسنده: میلان کوندرا؛ مترجم: احمد میرعلائی؛ مشخصات نشر تهران، دماوند، 1364، در 178ص، انتشارات باغ نو نیز در سال1381هجری خورشیدی کتاب را از همین مترجم و در 127ص منتشر کرده است؛ چاپ سوم 1387؛ شابک 9647425104؛ نشر نو، 1397؛ در136ص؛ شابک 9786004901208؛ موضوع: نویسندگان چک؛ نقد و بررسی - سده 20م

فهرست: یادداشت؛ «مصاحبه ای با میلان کوندرا»؛ «غرب در گروگان یا فرهنگ از صحنه بیرون میرود»؛ «جایی آن پشت و پسله ها»؛ «نامه های گمشده (کلاه کلمنتیس)»؛ «فرشته ها»؛

کوندرا در توصیف قهرمانان خود میگویند: شخصیتهای رمانی که نوشته ام، امکانات خود من هستند که تحقق نیافته اند، بدین سبب هراسانم، آنها را دوست میدارم، آنها از مرزی گذر کرده اند که من فقط آن را دور زده ام

تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 31/05/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ 10/05/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی

This review is sung by Freddy Mercury to the tune of Bohemian Rhapsody.

Is this a fiction?
Is this just fantasy?
Not just a narrative
Of Czech infidelity.

Reader four eyes
Look onto the page and read
I'm just a Prague boy, I’ve sex with empathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go
A little high, little low
Any Soviet era Czech knows, unbearable lightness of being

Good Reads, just read a book
Put a bookmark on the page
Played my audio now it’s read
Good Reads, the book had just begun
But now I've read all Milan had to say
Good Reads, ooo
Didn't mean to make you sigh
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow
Carry on, carry on, unbearable lightness of being

Too late, this book is done
A short book no need to break the spine
Body’s just egalitarian
Good read everybody – I’ll say so
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Good Reads, ooo (any Soviet era Czech knows)
I don't want the book to end
I sometimes wish I'd never started to read at all

I read a little dialogue from of a man
Tomas, Tomas will you make love to Teresa?
Thunderbolt and lightning very nearly enticing me
Repetition! Repetition!
Repetition! Repetition!
Repetition Kundera– Metaphor!

But I'm just a Prague boy and many women love me
He's just a Prague boy from a Czech family
Flair is his prose from this virtuosity

Easy come easy go will you let me go
Bohemia! No we will not let you go - let him go
Bohemia! We will not let you go - let him go
Bohemia! We will not let you go let me go
Will not let you go let me go (never)
Never let you go let me go
Never let me go ooo
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
Oh Milan Kundera, Milan Kundera says its so
Premier Brezhnev has a gulag put aside for me
For me
For me

[Brian May melts our faces with a blistering guitar solo while Wayne and Garth head bang in a Pacer]

Soviet tanks can occupy and eat our pie
Naked women can sing and leave me to die
Oh Milan, Kant German sex Milan
Just gotta go Swiss just gotta get right outta here

Ooh yeah, ooh yeah
Unbearable lightness
Anyone can read
Unbearable lightness unbearable lightness
of being

Any Soviet era Czech knows

بار هستی برایم فراتر از یک کتاب بود
شیفته آثار کهن و کلاسیک بودم و نتوانسته بودم با آثار مدرن ارتباطی برقرار کنم
شاید چون انسان های عصر جدید را نمی فهمیدم
ولی کوندرا در این کتاب مثه یک جراح ماهر،شخصیت ها را کالبد شکافی کرد
و این کتاب یکی از بهترین تجربه های کتابخوانی ام شد

خواندن این کتاب شگفت انگیز نزدیک به چهل روز طول کشید
هرروز نهایتا می توانستم 10 صفحه بخوانم
برای من که آنموقع روزی 50 تا 150 صفحه می خواندنم چیز عجیبی بود
ولی مگر می شد از یه خط براحتی گذشت؟
با اینکه از سبکی تحمل ناپذیر هستی می گفت ولی سنگینی بارش ذهنم رو زود از پای در می آورد
!!!
یه جمله در کتاب هست که خیلی منو به فکر فرو میبره
يك بار حساب نيست،يك بار چون هيچ است.فقط يكبار زندگي كردن مانند هرگز زندگي كردن است

اما در اشعار اریش فرید هم چیز جالبی پیدا کردم
کجا می آموزیم زیستن را
و کجا می آموزیم آموختن را
و کجا از یاد می بریم
که فقط آنچه را فرا گرفته ایم زندگی نکنیم؟

ميلان كوندرا مي گويد كه اين ها شخصيت هايي بودن كه هرگز جرات عبور از مرز آنان رو نداشته است
پس يك انسان مي تواند تركيبي از اين شخصيت ها رو داشته باشد

ترزا و سابينا دو شخصيت مخالف هم بودند.ترزا شجاعتي داشت كه از روبه رو شدن با مرگ هم نمي هراسيد (عكس گرفتنش در مناطق جنگي) ولي در برابر قلبش ضعف داشت و نمي توانست بخاطر عشقي كه داشت از مرد خائنش دل بكند
سابينا يك فراري بود و از داشتن يك زندگي مسئوليت پذير مي ترسيد
و هرگاه به مرزهاي ان مي رسيد با شعبده بازي خاص خود از انجا ناپديد مي شد
ولي سابينا براي زن بودن خود ارزش قائل بود و اجازه نمي داد كه بازيچه مردان گردد، بلكه بدترش را هم آنجام مي داد يعني مردان را بازيچه خود مي كرد
اما هر انسانی نقطه ضعف دارد. توما نقطه ضعف سابینا است
ولي توما به طرز فاجعه باري وي را شبيه خود مي يافت و انسان هيچوقت نميتواند دو نفر شبيه خود را براي سالها تحمل كند

:به گفته آندره ژید
ناتانائیل! در کنار آن چه شبیه توست نمان ! هرگز نمان

توما برعكس عاشق شخصيت ترزا بود چون دنيايش كاملا متفاوت تر از دنياي وي و سابينا بود
فرانز هم عاشق سابينا شد چون سابينا هم دنيايي داشت كه براي فرانز ناشناخته بود
...
تمامي محكوميت انسان در اين جمله نهفته است:زمان بشري دايره وار نمي گذرد،بلكه به خط مستقيم پيش مي رود.و به همين دليل انسان نمي تواند خوشبخت باشد،چرا كه خوشبختي ميل به تكرار است


آنچه به انسان عظمت مي بخشد آن است كه آدمي چنان سرنوشت خود را در دست گيرد كه اطلس گنبد آسمان را بر دوش مي گرفت
توما در طول داستان گاه اطلس می شود و گاه می خواهد از زیر گنبد آسمان شانه خالی کند

This book definitely wins the award for Most Pretentious Title Ever. People would ask me what I was reading, and I would have to respond by reading the title in a sarcastic, Oxford-Professor-of-Literature voice to make it clear that I was aware of how obnoxiously superior I sounded. Honestly, Kundera: stop trying so hard. Chill. Out.
When I first started reading this book, I really disliked it. Kundera wastes the first two chapters on philosophical ramblings before he finally gets around to telling the story, and even then his own voice darts in and out of the story, interjecting his own opinion into the plot. It's like trying to watch a movie with the director's commentary playing in the background - all you can think is, "shut up and let me watch the movie in peace!" I also thought he was trying way too hard to be a Critically Acclaimed Author; for example: "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."

Um...sure. Why not.

But once he decides to relax a little and actually tell a coherent story, it becomes really engrossing. I was never crazy about Tomas and Tereza, who love each other despite the fact that Tomas is a selfish man-whore (Kundera phrased it more poetically, but that's basically the truth), but I think I understood them. Also, the last 50-some pages of the book were AMAZING, made me cry, and are the reason this book gets 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."

The Unbearable Lightness of Being was almost unbearable to read. There was a lot of pseudo-intellectual meandering about things that deserved a little more grit. Rather, I prefer a little more reality. I didn't care about the characters, and I didn't feel like they cared about anything. I feel like saying I was impressed with the thoughtiness of this book, but by the time I typed it I'd be so buried under multiple levels of irony that I'd suddenly be accidentally sincere again. What was I saying? Oh, yeah. I'd probably like this book a lot more if I was having more sex.

NC

The wisdom of uncertainty.
He states this novel's definition to Kundera during its work, opening this monument of 20th-century literature. Man has only one life, and the weight of his choices is matched only by the lightness of his existence. It is impossible to rewind his life and know what would have been the course of his story if he had taken other paths. To endure this impasse and not whip up eternal regrets, we might as well accept life as it comes.
The story is well known, but you might as well ramble on it because it is beautiful. Tomas is a brilliant surgeon who lived in Prague in 1968. He is more interested in his feminine conquests than in political agitation. He marries Teresa, a tormented young woman who is jealous and drunk with political and loving ideals. Stifled, Tomas multiplies his infidelities, particularly with his friend Sabina, an individualist photographer who loves freedom.
During the Prague Spring, Tomas and Teresa flee to Switzerland, but the young woman cannot bring herself to live far from home and returns alone. Tomas must then choose between a light Helvetian life where he can blossom in his profession and quench his thirst for love or join Teresa, lose his job, and expose himself to communist repression. He returns to Prague and becomes a tile washer, and the couple goes to live in the countryside with their dog, Karenina.
Like all romantic palaces, access to this book is impressive. The title alone requires taking Paracetamol. I put the skates to glide on this waxed prose with felted steps. In the first sentence, Nietzsche quotes. You have to hang on to ODP. I sometimes had to reread specific paragraphs because it was awkward to wink between two sentences. He must say that a philosophical commentary follows each character's decision. Remember never to invite Milan Kundera to a dinner party. Suddenly, getting attached to the story is difficult because the digressions leave the reader spectator. I understood the author was not trying to grab my attention and attend a lecture. It took me a long time (I'm only a man) to know that this step back intends to reflect on life's unique meaning. I am glad I waited until maturity to engage in this reading. Greener, gravity would have gotten the better of my lightness.
So it's not just a beautiful love story amid Russian tanks. Nor is it the novel of an intellectual exiled against the communist regime and its mythologies. His characters are as many victims of the story as their personal choices. Instead, I believe it is a meditation on individual freedom and the opposing forces that shake our lives.
Each reader of this novel remembers this literary journey. The end of the Karenina dog's life is imminent. Thomas and Teresa's attachment to this beast testifies to more humanity than all the states of mind that tormented their romantic passion.

This is the story of 2 men, 2 women and a dog, during and after the 1968 Prague Spring, in what was then Czechoslovakia. It's also about challenging Friedrich Nietzsche's eternal recurrence concepts, by countering (in this story) that each of us, has but one unique life to live - i.e. the lightness of being. So note, that there is a fair bit of philosophical wanderings, especially in the second half of the book. The "unbearable lightness" also refers to Kundera's portrayal of love being transient, random and rooted in accumulated coincidences, despite how much we see it as much more.

How did the book make me feel?
I was hypnotised by Kundera's storytelling, largely focussed on his cast and getting to only see the world they saw, even when it was limited to the four walls of a room that they were in. It tells the story of the crushing of the Czech privileged, and tells that story less emotionally, just through the eyes of the cast, something that works really well and in the end feels more powerful, a lot more powerful. I knew little of the details of the Prague Spring, but reading this has now inspired to learn more about this, and the Hungarian uprising of this era.

I was almost in tears at the end. The book has shaken me with the simplicity of its story and the deepness of its message. There's also one of the greatest ever non-human dramatical scenes in this book, which also totally absorbed and consumed me. I dragged my heels reading this, because I wanted to savour each scene, immerse myself in each page. A simple story about people, a story about enshrined political oppression, a story about love? In addition I feel that this is one of those books, that I knew within the first few pages, was something special, as Kundera's quality is apparent from the first page to the last. 10 out 12, a Five Star Read.

2020 read

În romanele lui Kundera, dar mai ales în Insuportabila ușurătate... (titlul original e imposibil de tradus), există întotdeauna un personaj în plus, supranumerar. Nu e numaidecît naratorul, e altcineva, l-am putea numi Eseistul, l-am putea numi Autorul. Funcția lui e să ridice întrebări (cît prețuiește ființa?, de ce sîntem covîrșiți de kitsch?) și să folosească povestea ca pe o ilustrație a ipotezelor filosofice. Așadar, alături de Tereza, Sabina, Tomas și Franz - personaje care evoluează la nivelul „pămîntesc”, trebuie să plasăm, undeva, deasupra tuturor, și figura Autorului (care nu e Kundera, firește).

Din această pricină romanele lui Milan Kundera par (și chiar sînt) artificioase. Au multe în comun cu fabulele filosofice ale lui Diderot și Voltaire. Sigur, și în cărțile altor prozatori apar comentarii, digresiuni, dar ele aparțin unuia dintre personaje sau naratorului omniscient. La Kundera e pe dos. Citim, în realitate, un eseu (despre eterna reîntoarcere, despre actul sexual în paradis și opinia lui Ioannes Scottus Eriugena, despre kitsch, despre hazard) și, din cînd în cînd, discursul este întrerupt de mici inserții narative: în lenjerie intimă, scrutată de oglinzi, Sabina probează o pălărie-melon de culoare neagră.

În plus, sîntem preveniți din capul locului că personajele sînt inventate, niște pioni în mîna indiferentă a șahistului: „Ar fi o prostie din partea autorului, dacă ar încerca să-l facă pe cititor să creadă că personajele lui au existat în realitate. Acestea nu s-au născut din trupul unei mame, ci din cîteva fraze sugestive...”. Prin această răsturnare narativă, Kundera încalcă sistematic „legile” povestirii (clasice) și așteptările cititorului. Romanul devine aproape neverosimil. Acțiunea e numai pretextul unui raționament.

Ce rămîne dacă eliminăm pasajele eseistice? Rămîne un roman despre iubire și deșertăciune, o „demonstrație” a nimicniciei umane. Ființa nu valorează mare lucru și lipsa ei de „greutate” (importanță) îngrozește.

Există un episod care nu-mi va ieși niciodată din minte, un exemplu de „vanitas vanitatum”. Motivul i-a obsedat dintotdeauna pe scriitori: îl întîlnim în satirele medievale, în poezia veche engleză (la Thomas Nashe), în Povestea lui orișicine de Philip Roth. Să citim acest pasaj:

„În toiul nopţii, [Tomas] o trezi [pe Tereza] din somn, ca să-i potolească plînsetele.
[Ea] îi povesti:
– Eram îngropată. De multă vreme. Tu veneai să mă vezi, o dată pe săptămînă. Ciocăneai în piatra cavoului şi eu ieşeam din mormînt, cu ochii plini de ţărînă. Îmi spuneai: În felul ăsta nu mă poţi vedea, şi-mi scoteai ţărîna din ochi. Şi eu răspundeam: Oricum nu pot să văd. În loc de ochi am două găuri”.

- نحن امام كتاب غير تقليدي، ورواية لا تشبه التعريف، فإذا كنت تبحث عن حبكة وعقدة وحل ونتيجة في آخر الرواية، فهذه الرواية لا تنتمي لذلك الصنف ولن تعجبك ابداً.

- شخصيات الرواية اربعة والقارئ خامسهم، يأخذ كونديرا الأربعة، يستعملهم كأدوات لشرح فلسفته في الحياة، يشرّح كل شخصية على حدى، يتمهّل يشرح لك ما حصل من زاوية فلسفية ونفسية ويعاود السرد. الشخصية الخامسة (القارئ) يمكنه الآن ان يتوقف، ان يعيد ما قرأ او ان يتابع الرحلة المجنونة مع كونديرا.

- الخفّة والثقل: ينطلق كونديرا من فكرة نيتشة في العود الأبدي وحتمية تكرار التاريخ، فيعارضها و"يسخّفها" ويحاول اثبات عكسها. جدلية الخفة والثقل هي امتداد للديالكتيك الأزلي ولتصارع الأضداد والمتناقضات رغم ان كونديرا يجنح الى معنى الثقل ووزنه في الحياة البشرية وعبثية الخفة في العديد من المواضع لكنه يبتعد عن الحتمية ويتركك تتسأل، تحكم وتقرر بنفسك.

- القرارات و"ماذا لو": إن شخصيات كونديرا تحاول العثور على مكان مثالي في الحياة حيث يريدون العيش إلى الأبد، ولكن هل يستحق الأمر ترك كل ما سيضيع؟ في اللحظة التي يتخذون فيها خطوة إلى الأمام ، يبدأون في الشعور بما تركوه خلفهم للتو (سابينا حين تركت توماس، فرانسز على الحدود الكمبودية كمثال)، خاصة عندما لا توجد طريقة لمعرفة ما الذي ينتظرنا على الضفة الأخرى. هل نختار أن نكون سعداء اليوم على حساب التعاسة غداً؟ أم نضحّي ونشقى في الحاضر آملاً بنتائج جيدة في المستقبل؟ ماذا لو انتهى بنا المطاف في فوضى، وبالتأكيد لا عودة!! عبثية او حكمة؟! .. لا ادري، لكننا "لا يمكننا أبدا أن نعرف ما نريده ، لأننا نعيش حياة واحدة فقط ".

- الحب: لم يتطرق كونديرا الى الحب من زاوية شاعرية، ولم يجعله الحل المثالي لمشكلة الحياة، فحين حزمت تيريزا حقائبها واتت اليه كانت "كركرة" معدتها هي المقدمة لأنها جائعة وباردة! كما ان الحب الذي نشأ بينهم واكبته مشاعر خوف، وغيرة وكذب وخيانة وقلة ثقة وخداع متبادل ورغم ذلك تشبثا به عله يكون منقذهما. (اعتقد ان نزار قباني استلهم قصيدة التناقضات من ميلان (وكيف تكون الخيانة حلاً..))

- الشيوعية والحرب: قدّم ميلان نظرة عامة عن الوضع إبّان احتلال السوفيات للتشيك، وكيف تغيّرت الأحوال والتعامل مع المحتل، وملاحقة المثقفين ونفيهم واحتقارهم وسجنهم واعدام بعضهم، كما اعطى صورة عامة كيف تغيرت الحياة وكيف تأثر التشيك بهذا الوضع.

- يتركنا ميلان كونديرا مع الكثير من الأسئلة الوجودية المقلقة للتأمل وذلك عائد، ربما، الى انه لا توجد إجابات واضحة لهذه الأسئلة.

- الفكرة المبتذلة في هذه الرواية كانت كمية "المضاجعات" ومحاولة فلسفتها واعطائها جذور فكرية وفلسفية!

- سأقرأها مرة ثانية وثالثة ...
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بعض الإقتباسات الجميلة واللاذعة:
- ص11" في بداية أساطير كثيرة هناك احد ما ينقذ طفلاً لقيطاً"

- ص20" ان نحب احداً شفقة به فهذا يعني اننا لا نحبه حقاً" ذكرني ب "حذار من الشفقة" لستيفان زفايج

- ص30" ان المنا بالذات ليس بأثقل من الألم الذي نعانيه مع الآخر ومن اجل الآخر وفي مكان الآخر، الم يضاعفه الخيال وترجعه مئات الأصداء"

- ص43" وكي يكون الحب غير قابل للنسيان، يجب ان تجتمع الصدف من اللحظة الأولى"

- ص64" كلنا ضعفاء في مواجهة قوّة اعظم منا"

- ص67" ان الإصابة بالدوار تعني ان يكون المرء سكران من ضعفه الخاص.. فهو يعي ضعفه لكنه لا يرغب بالتصدي له بل الإسترسال فيه" كان يمكن استعمال مفردة افضل من الدوار، "التيه" كانت لتكون افضل.

- ص 77" ليست كل النساء جديرات بأن يدعين نساء"

- ص82" الحدود القصوى ترسم الفاصل الذي تختفي من بعده الحياة" وهذا مناقض لنيتشة وجبران

- ص82" من بفتش عن اللانهاية ما عليه الا ان يغمض عينيه"

- ص108" ما الذي يبقى حين لا يعود هناك اهل لنخونهم او زوج او حب او وطن"

- ص109" وبدل ان يكون سكان المقابر اكثر تعقلاً بعد موتهم فإنهم اكثر حماقة مما كانوا وهم على قيد الحياة"

- ص120" إن سؤالاً بلا جواب حاجز لا طرقات بعده" "الأسئلة التي تبقى دون جواب هي التي تشير الى حدود الإمكانات الإنسانية، وهي التي ترسم حدود وجودنا"

- ص163" لكي نتحاشى العذاب نلجأ في اكثر الأحيان الى المستقبل"

- ص168" علاقات الحب مثل الإمبراطوريات، ما ان يختفي المبدأ الذي بنيت على اساسه حتى تختفي معه ايضاً"

- ص172" الأنظمة المجرمة لم ينشأها اناس مجرمون وانما اناس متحمسون ومقتنعون بأنهم وجدوا الطريق الوحيد الى الجنة"

- ص225" التاريخ خفيف بقدر ما هي الحياة الإنسانية خفيفة، خفيفة بشكل لا يطاق، خفيفة مثل الوبر، مثل غبار، مثل شيئ سيختفي غداً"

- ص230" في جميع الأحوال لن ارى شيئاً. هناك فجوتان مكان العينين"

- ص277" إن دفن الزوج اخيراً هو عرس الزوجة الحقيقي، وهو تتويج بحياتها ومكافأة تكفّر عن كل عذاباتها"

-ص 286" جاء في سفر التكوين ان الله خلق الإنسان وجعله يسيطر على الطيور والأسماك والماشية. وبالطبع الّف سفر التكوين انسان، لا حصان. وليس من المؤكد ان الله اراد حقاً ان يحكم الإنسان سائر المخلوقات"

- ص288" لنتصور الإنسان وقد اوثقه احد سكان المريخ بعربة ثم قلّبه احد سكان المجرة على سيخ ليشويه، ربما سيتذكر حتماً حينئذ ضلع العجل الذي اعتاد على تقطيعه في صحنه، وسيقدم اعتذاره (ولو متأخراً جداً) للبقرة"

I spent part of my lazy weekend reading this book on the grassy hills of The Huntington Library surrounded by gardens, art, and beauty. Even the serene surroundings and my sensational reading date could not make up for this book. Weak characters, horrible assumptions, pseudo philosophy, and no clear grasp of how women are actually motivated.

Only wannabe Lotharios who pride themselves as philosophers would enjoy this.

I tried. I really did.

n  The Unbelievable Lightness of The Noveln

I had started reading this in 2008 and had gotten along quite a bit before I stopped reading the book for some reason and then it was forgotten. Recently, I saw the book in a bookstore and realized that I hadn't finished it. I picked it up and started it all over again since I was not entirely sure where I had left off last time. I was sure however that I had not read more than, say, 30 pages or so.

I definitely could not remember reading it for a long period of time. I only remembered starting it and bits and pieces about infidelities and the russian occupation of the Czech. And so, I started reading it, sure that soon a page will come from where the story will be fresh and unread.

I was soon into the fiftieth page and was amazed that as I read each page, I could distinctly remember every scene, every philosophical argument, even the exact quotes and the sequence of events that was to come immediately after the scene I was reading- But I could never remember, try as I might, what was coming two pages further into the novel.

"This is what comes from reading serious books lightly and not giving them the attention they deserve," I chastised myself, angry at the thought that my habit of reading multiple books in parallel must have been the cause of this. I must, at the risk of appearing boastful, say that the reason this bothered so much was that I always used to take pride in being able to remember the books that I read almost verbatim and this experience of reading a book that I had read before with this sense of knowing and forgetting at the same time, the two sensations running circles around each other and teasing me was completely disorienting. I felt like I was on some surreal world where all that is to come was already known to me but was still being revealed one step out of tune with my time.

In any case, this continued, to my bewilderment well into the two hundredth page. Even now, I could not shake the constant expectation that the story was going to go into unread new territories just 2 or 3 pages ahead of where I was. Every line I read I could remember having read before and in spite of making this mistake through so many pages, I still could not but tell myself that this time, surely, I have reached the part where I must have last closed the book three years ago.

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

I also feel a slight anger towards the author for playing this trick on me, for leading me on into reading the entire book again, without giving me anything new which I had not received from the book on my first reading. Usually when I decide to read a book again, I do it with the knowledge that I will gain something new with this reading, but Kundera gave me none of that.

What I do appreciate about this reading experience is this: as is stated in the novel, anything that happens only once might as well have not happened at all - does it then apply 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 recount an argument from the book that in retrospect helps me explain the experience:

Kundera talks (yes, the book is full of Kundera ripping apart the 'Fourth Wall' and talking to the reader, to the characters and even to himself) about an anecdote on how Beethoven came to compose one of his best quartets due to inspiration from a silly joke he had shared with a friend.

So Beethoven turned a frivolous inspiration into a serious quartet, a joke into metaphysical truth. Yet oddly enough, the transformation fails to surprise us. We would have been shocked, on the other hand, if Beethoven had transformed the seriousness of his quartet into the 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 would 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 with the full awareness of what the last line of the novel was going to be.