با قدم های مصمم به طرف موتورسیکلت اش می رود. او موتورسیکلت اش را می خواهد، آن را با تمام عشق می خواهد. آری! عشق به موتورسیکلتی که او وقتی سوارش شود می تواند همه چیز را، خود را، فراموش کند. دلش فقط یک چیز می خواهد و آن اینکه هر چه زودتر آن شب را، آری تمام آن شب بی ثمر را فراموش کند، پاک کند، خط بزند، نابود کند و در همان حال، عطش شدید به سرعت را که به نظر می رسد غیر قابل فرو نشاندن باشد، در خود احساس می کند.
...
او می ایستد، انگشتانش را زیر بینی اش می گیرد، بالای درشکه می رود، در گوشه درشکه می نشیند و پاهایش را با آرامش دراز می کند،درشکه تاب می خورد، به زودی خوابش می برد و بعد بیدار خواهد شد. تمام مدت تلاش خواهد کرد تا جایی که ممکن است نزدیک تر به شبی که با یک دندگی تمام دارد در روشنایی تحلیل می رود، باقی بماند.
...
فردایی وجود ندارد
چرا لذت آهستگی از میان رفته است؟!

Πρώτη φορά που διαβάζω Μίλαν Κούντερα, δεν ξέρω τι ακριβώς διάβασα, πάντως μου άρεσε. Κάτι στη γραφή, κάτι στον ιδιαίτερο τρόπο με τον οποίο άγγιξε διάφορα ενδιαφέροντα και μη θέματα, οπωσδήποτε μου έκανε κλικ, με έκανε να διαβάσω το βιβλίο σχεδόν μονοκοπανιά, σαν να ήταν κάποιο θρίλερ. Βέβαια, μάλλον θα έπρεπε να ήμουν πιο... βραδύς στην ανάγνωση του βιβλίου, γιατί στην πορεία μπορεί να έχασα το γενικότερο νόημα (αν υπάρχει τέτοιο) αυτών που ήθελε να θίξει ο συγγραφέας, αλλά κάτι τέτοιο θα ήταν αδύνατο λόγω της πολύ καλής και αρκούντως εθιστικής γραφής, με την ωραία αν και ίσως κάπως ιδιόρρυθμη αίσθηση του χιούμορ, αλλά και με το στοιχείο του σουρεαλισμού που (σχεδόν) πάντα με γοητεύει. Γενικά, δηλώνω ικανοποιημένος από την πρώτη μου επαφή με το έργο του Κούντερα, δεν ξέρω βέβαια αν έκανα την ιδανική αρχή, αν το βιβλίο αυτό είναι χαρακτηριστικό δείγμα της γραφής και του τρόπου σκέψης του συγγραφέα, πάντως μπορώ να πω ότι χαίρομαι που το ευχαριστήθηκα και που δεν απογοητεύτηκα, γιατί έχω προμηθευτεί αρκετά βιβλία του και ήταν ένας συγγραφέας που πάντα ήθελα να διαβάσω αλλά για κάποιο λόγο έμενα μακριά του μέχρι σήμερα. Τώρα θα ανυπομονώ να διαβάσω κάποιο επόμενο βιβλίο του (σίγουρα του χρόνου). 7.5/10

فوق العااااااااده بود این کتاب. اولین کتابی بود که از کوندرا خوندم و باید آفرین گفت واقعا به این نویسنده.
توصیف ها و ارائه ی فوق العاده ای که از درونیات یک انسان داشت ، موضوع بدیعی که انتخاب کرده بود "آهستگی"و لذتش ! و به تصویر کشیدن زیبای درونیات ونسان .
حقیقتا لذت بردم ازش.

نمی‌دونم این کتاب چطوری در ایران چاپ شده، چون نسخه‌ی چاپی رو نخوندم اما مطمئنم که خوندن نسخه‌ی چاپ شده در ایران یک کتاب جدید هست با نویسندگی مترجم و سانسورچی و قطعا کوندرا اون رو گردن نمیگیره، این از مطلب اول. اگه بخوام فلسفه‌ی کتاب رو از دید خودم در چند کلمه خلاصه کنم، این کلمات رو میتونم بگم: لذت، سرعت، ترس و فراموشی. داستان از چند روایت جداگانه تشکیل شده که در نهایت به هم پیوند میخورند و کوندرا سعی میکنه نظرات خودش رو با تکیه بر اپیکوریسم همراه با پیشبرد داستان بیان کنه. ولی انتظار من از کتاب بیشتر بود.ه

از متن کتاب:
درجه آهستگی تناسب مستقیم با حضور ذهن دارد و درجه شتاب تناسب مستقیم با شدت فراموشی

Bình thường, Kundera thích viết tiểu thuyết theo nhạc tính nhưng với Chậm, xem ra ông viết nó theo dục tính, với tiết tấu mà ông ngưỡng mộ. Đó là sự chậm rãi, cầu kỳ hết mức ở khúc dạo đầu và đạt được sự bùng nổ hoành tráng (tuy thoáng chốc) ở phút cuối. Mức độ hay thì cũng đúng như mong muốn về giao hoan của Kundera: quá nửa đầu đọc rất 5*, đến cuối thì hơi loãng.

Anw, Chậm vẫn nằm trong số ít những cuốn của Kundera mà tôi đánh giá cao. Không hiểu do tuổi tác mang tới sự đồng cảm hay do thật sự là nó hay hơn nhiều cuốn trước đó. Về bản dịch, tôi có so một số đoạn nhạy cảm (về chính trị và tình dục) thì chưa thấy đục lỗ gì nhưng bản dịch mới sắc hơn, câu chữ chỉn chu hơn. Thế nên sẽ đọc nốt hai cuốn kia theo bản dịch mới vậy.

Điều khiến tôi không cho được 5* là ở chỗ Kundera xem ra vẫn phải dụng sức ở nhiều chỗ quá, như cái cốt truyện đan xen. Tôi vẫn thích một tác phẩm bộc trực, đơn giản hơn. Nhưng vẫn phải khen thêm là dù chanh chua, tiếng cười ở Kundera vẫn thật sự thống khoái. Tôi thuộc kiểu người hiếm khi cười nhưng đọc Kundera kiểu gì cũng có lúc cười phá lên một lúc và âm ỉ một hồi lâu.

Cuốn này là mở bát cho năm mới (dương) nên thảo nào sự đọc đầu năm lê thê mãi =)) hi vọng cuối năm tăng tốc và giữ vững phong độ hay như cuốn này hoho

So many things about this book didn't make any sense to me, I suppose that's one of Kundera's trademarks but it just annoyed me this time. It was like a badly made soup, some of the components were beautiful but absolutely didn't fit well with the overall structure. Early in the book there's a beautiful metaphor about a resonating seashell, but the book itself was like that seashell in reverse, you hold the seashell to your ear hoping to hear something beautiful, but then unbeknownst to you, a cephalopod crawls out and squirts dark ink, possibly even damaging your ear.

The dancer theory proposed in the book completely flew over my head. If you were to ask me what Kundera meant by a 'dancer', I'd have absolutely no idea except that he performs for an invisible audience. I understood that the story took place at some weird phantasmagorical intersections of time across different centuries, but I found myself lost at these intersections, not knowing which path to take.

When things happen too fast, nobody can be certain about anything, about anything at all, not even about himself.

I'm not sure if things happened too fast or too slowly in this book, but I'm definitely uncertain about all of it. Except that Kundera seems to have been obsessed with nudity and buttholes

همزمان ترجمه نسخه اینترنتی خانم دریا نیامی رو با یکی از ترجمه های سانسور شده ی چاپ شده خوندم، باید بگم که یا این کتاب رو نخونید یا با ترجمه خانم نیامی بخونید چون تو نسخه های چاپی به قدری سانسور زیاده که کل موضوع از دست رفته
مخصوصا قسمت هایی که عشق بازی شوالیه و مادام ت رو میگه و در فصل های بعد عشق بازی ژولی و ونسان رو میگه در رواقع میخواد مفهوم آهستگی رو حتی در سکس با مقایسه این دو داستان بگه، که اگر سانسور شده شو بخونید اصلا متوجه این موضوع نخواهید شد

بخش هایی از کتاب:
نزدیک ترین وسیله در دسترس اسلحه است و مرگ افرین ترین حادثه، آگاه شدن

احساس برگزیده بودن جزئی از هر رابطه عاشقانه است. چنانچه در تعریف هم عشق هدیه ای است که به ما ارزانی می شود بی آنکه برایش لیاقتی نشان داده باشیم. دوست داشته شدن بدون دلیل، حتی خود دلیلی تلقی می شود بر خالص بودن عشق، اگر زنی به من بگوید دوستت دارم چون تو باهوشی، شریف هستی، برای من هدیه می خری، به زنهای دیگر نظری نداری، ظرف می شویی، آن وقت من مأیوس می شوم. چنین عشقی انگار می خواهد چیزی را به چنگ بیاورد. چقدر زیباتر است اگر انسان در عوض بشنود: من دیوانه توأم، هر چند که تو نه فقط باهوش و درست کار نیستی، بلکه یک دروغگوی خودخواه عوضی هم هستی:-) :-)

در کتاب آهستگی افکار برهنه‌ی میلان کوندرا را به تماشا می‌نشینیم. افکاری که قصد دارد مرزها و تابوهای موجود را در هم شکند و به دور از هر گونه سانسوری تراوشاتش را بر روی کاغذ بیاورد. به کلماتی که کوندرا به کار می‌برد خرده نمی‌گیرم چرا که هدف نویسنده این بوده است که هرچه می‌خواهد بگوید و محدودیتی احساس نکند. هرچند از دید من تابوشکنی به استفاده از کلمات جنسی نیست.
کوندرا در این کتاب شخصیت اصلی داستان است. نه ونسان، نه شوالیه، نه ژولی، نه ... هیچ‌یک برای من جز شخصیت‌های داستان نبودند. از دید من این کتاب فقط یک شخصیت داشت: میلان کوندرا؛ بقیه سایه‌هایی از افکار کوندرا، آدمک‌های برای بازی کردن با آن‌ها برای پیشبرد افکارش بودند. از همین جهت این کتاب برای من پیش بردن چند داستان در یک جهت نبود، همه یک داستان به شمار می‌آمد!
در این کتاب شاهد به چالش کشیده شدن مفاهیم ارزشی هستیم. مفاهیمی مثل برگزیده شدن، شهرت، لذت و ... شاید به نظر بیاید که کوندرا لذت‌گرایی را در این کتاب تشویق می‌کند، اما در انتهای کتاب وقتی خواننده را با سوال «آیا می‌توان با لذت و برای لذت زیست و احساس سعادتمندی کرد؟» مواجه می‌کند، هر آنچه را به ظاهر ساخته به هم می‌ریزد.
لحن میلان کوندرا در این کتاب بین مستقیم و غیرمستقیم جابجا می‌شود و آهستگی نسبتا خوب از پس این کار برآمده است.
خیلی سال پیش یک بار آهستگی را خوانده و نیمه کاره رهایش کرده بودم و حالا یادم آمد چرا.

-----------------------------
جملات ماندگار کتاب:
او از چنگ استمرار زمان گریخته است.
...
ترس ریشه در آینده دارد، و کسی که از آینده رها است لازم نیست از چیزی بترسد.
...
چرا لذت آهستگی از میان رفته است؟
...
در جهان ما آسودگی به بیکاره‌گی تبدیل شده است و فرق میان این دو بسیار است.
...
لذت را کسی می‌تواند احساس کند که رنج نمی‌برد.
...
لذت‌جویی غالبا بیشتر رنج به بار می‌آورد تا لذت.
...
لذت چه کم و زیاد، تنها متعلق به کسی است که آن را تجربه می‌کند.
...
هر تغییری به ناگزیر به تغییر اساسی‌تری منجر می‌شود.
...
احساس برگزیده بودن جزئی از هر رابطه‌ی عاشقانه است.
...
آن‌ها اهل نمایش دادن نیستند و از نگاه دیگران به هیجان نمی‌آیند و به همین جهت قصد ندارند نگاه‌های دیگران را به خود جلب کنند و خود به تماشای کسی بپردازند که در حال تماشا کردن آنان است.
...
آیا می‌توان با لذت و برای لذت زیست و احساس سعادتمندی کرد؟

Inconsistente. Sfuggente. Inno alla lentezza? Si, ma superficiale. Si fa leggere ma non resta molto.

Re-read this book the other day. Much better than the first time around. I still wish that Kundera had developed his first person story a little more, but I suppose that wasn't the point.

My favorite scene in the novel was that of the Czech entomologist caught up in an emotional state so far that he doesn't remember to deliver his paper at the conference. It is simultaneously hilarious and heart breaking. I felt my face turn red with his when he, 15 minutes after the fact, finally realized his error. Poor guy.

The thing I like so much about reading Kunera is the philosophy lesson he delivers with each novel, teaching and sharing ideas, weaving them within a story. The concept in this book, of the slowness of life and memory, is less powerful than some of his deep thoughts, but interesting nonetheless. (I do like, however, his ever-so-true observation that a pedestrian slows down when trying to remember and speeds up when trying to forget. A good, almost too obvious, sort of observation that is quite telling in terms of how humans want to and do remember things.) I found the end a bit cliched.

I think this book is worth reading, but maybe not until you're already in love with Kundera.

There is a secret bond between slowness and memory, between speed and forgetting. Consider this utterly commonplace situation: a man is walking down the street. At a certain moment, he tries to recall something, but the recollection escapes him. Automatically, he slows down. Meanwhile, a person who wants to forget a disagreeable incident he has just lived through starts unconsciously to speed up his space, as if he were trying to distance himself from a thing still too close to him in time.
In existential mathematics, that experience takes the form of two basic equations: the degree of slowness is directly proportional to the intensity of memory; the degree of speed is directly proportional to the intensity of forgetting.

As the first novel written in French by Milan Kundera, La Lenteur is proof that he immersed himself wholeheartedly into the Parisian lifestyle, that he embraced unreservedly his adopted country cultural heritage (see the references to eighteen century society) and its present sensibilities. The novel is only about 150 pages long and it is an exploration of pleasure (hedonism, epicurianism) and how modernity is limiting our capacity to relax and enjoy the finer things in life. Sounds serious, but the novel is anything but : frivolous, self-indulgent, ironic, irreverent, rambling and, despite the numerous aphorisms and existential equations proposed, generally lacking in seriosity. Seriosity is overrated anyway. Since the inception of the book appears to be in friendly conversations and alcoholic debates in the literary cafes of Paris, I see the best way to enjoy this novel would be to read it out loud and then dissect all its nuances and theories in the company of friends, sitting at a sidewalk table, preferably chez Les Deus Magots or Cafe Flores in St. Germain, or in the shade of Jardin de Luxembourg, idly passing the time and checking out 'les jeunes filles en fleur' passing by.

To illustrate his thesis about memory and speed, Kundera introduces two storylines, meeting across a two hundred years gap at a chateau on the Seine. The first story is a retelling of a one night stand beween the Chevalier and Madame de T., a couple of eighteen century libertines, each involved in a different relationship (Madame de T. with her husband and with her 'amant' the Marquis, the Chevalier with another woman of society), who tranform the trivial into a work of art and thus unforgettable:

By slowing the course of their night, by dividing it into different stages, each separate from the next, Madame de T. has succeeded in giving the small span of time accorded them the semblance of a marvelous little arhitecture, of a form. Imposing form on a period of time is what beauty demands, but so does memory. For what is formless cannot be grasped, or committed to memory. Conceiving their encounter as a form was especially precious for them, since their night was to have no tomorrow and could be repeated only through recollection.

The story feels familiar, and pretty soon I got confirmation, when Kundera starts to praise a book that has begun to haunt me over the past couple of months - I see references to it everywhere:

The true greatness of eighteen century art consists not in some propaganda or other for hedonism but in its analysis. That is the reason I consider Les Liaisons Dangereuses, by Choderlos de Laclos, to be one of the greatest novels of all time. Its characters are concerned only with the conquest of pleasure. Nonetheless, little by little the reader comes to see that it is less the pleasure than the conquest that attracts them. That it is not the desire for pleasure but the desire for victory that is calling the tune. That what first appears to be a merely obscene game shifts imperceptibly and ineluctably into a life-and-death struggle.

To contrast the langurous pacing of the illicit lovers thryst, the second storyline describes a present day shindig at the same chateau, witnessing a congress of entomologists and introducing the concept of 'dancer' or attention-whore. Berck is the ultimate 'dancer' embracing any cause that helps him hog the spotlight of public attention, loudly declaiming his moral integrity and his devotion to the downtrodden. Vincent professes his despise for Berck and his ilk, only to become himself a dancer as he tries to shine in the company of his friends with borrowed ideas and later strutting around in order to impress a woman he picks up at the convention. Immaculata is a reporter who tries to bask in the light of popularity emited by Berck only to be confronted with the emptiness behind his shiny facade. As a bemused and anachronic oberver of this modern fandango, Kundera introduces one of his co-nationals : a Czech academician with an unpronounceable name and a history of persecution under the Communist regime. Hilarity ensues as misunderstandings and obtuseness break down the channels of communication and love devolves into a grotesque mimicry of passion.

As morning comes, the Chevalier strolls contendenly through the gardens, all his senses atuned to the memory of passion, while Vincent jumps on his motorcycle and flies away as fast as possible from the embarassment of the night. Quod erat demonstrandum!
Both approaches are artificial / coreographed but one serves to reveal and explain, to preserve and to cherish, while the other to hide and to fake our emotions.

Why has the pleasure for slowness disappeared? Ah, where have they gone, the amblers of yesteryear? Where have they gone, those loafing heroes of folk song, those vagabonds who roam from one mill to another and bed down under the stars? Have they vanished along with footpaths, with grasslands and clearings, with nature? There is a Czech proverb that describes their easy indolence by a metaphor: "they are gazing at God's windows." A person gazing at God's windows is not bored; he is happy. In our world, indolence has turned into having nothing to do, which is a completely different thing: a person with nothing to do is frustrated, bored, is constantly searching for the activity he lacks.

Kundera has found an explanation in the discovery of photography, and consequently cinema and television, and the rise of the cult of popularity that it engendered. Our obession with actors and pop stars is explained as our need to identify with the 'elect', with the 'dancers', with the succesful and the beautiful, living life vicariously through their exploits.

When a person sees himself as elect, what can he do to prove his election, to make himself and others believe that he does not belong to the common herd? That is where the era founded on the invention of photography comes to the rescue, with its stars, its dancers, its celebrities, whose images, projected onto an enormous screen, are visible from afar by all, are admired by all, and are all beyond reach.

Proposed as the antithesis of the fake gurus of the modern media frenzy (Berck and his companions), is Denon - the author of the novella recounted here, returning me to the earlier image of the circle of friends debating everything under the sun at that sidewalk cafe:

Fame meant something different in the eighteenth century: the audience that he cared about, that he hoped to beguile, was not the mass of strangers today's writer covets but the little company of people he might know personally and respect. The pleasure he derived from success among his readers was not very different from the sort he might experience among the few listeners gathered around him in a salon where he was scintillating.

This makes the author ultimately a 'dancer' in his turn, and this novel his way of trying to impress us with his erudition, his sense of humour and his subtle observations on human nature. The result may not be as impressive as his more famous novels, being in the way of an extended essay uninterested in plot or character development, but it was enjoyable in its appeal to relax, and smell the roses. I'll let Madame de T. have the last words:

The art of conversation, the art of making love - they demand slowness, not speed. When we are too ardent, we are less subtle. When we rush to sensual pleasure, we blur all the delights along the way.

IL NOCCIOLO DELLA FUGA



Perché è scomparso il piacere della lentezza?
Si chiede il protagonista guidando sulle strade francesi insieme a sua moglie Vera diretti allo château-relais nel quale trascorreranno il weekend.
Perché il guidatore dietro di loro freme così tanto per superarli? E il pensiero dell’autore/guidatore si sposta a quell’americana incontrata qualche decennio prima che teorizzava la velocità nel raggiungere l’orgasmo.
E di collegamento in collegamento le riflessioni aumentano e sembrano indirizzare al concetto che velocità è sinonimo di dimenticare, al suo opposto la lentezza assume il connotato del ricordo e della memoria.



Riflessioni e collegamenti aumentano: c’è molta musica, che con i suoi tempi e forme, dall’adagio alla fuga, stimola il pensiero dell’autore/guidatore che abbraccia anche il romanzo Senza domani di Vivant Denon (1777) che racconta un lento viaggio in carrozza per la campagna francese. Viaggio in carrozza lento e anche a suo modo erotico (le riflessioni sull’erotismo non mancano, così pure sull’edonismo, ed Epicuro, e…) perché i sobbalzi del mezzo spingevano i corpi a sfiorarsi, toccarsi.



Allo château-relais si svolge un incontro convegno di entomologia, il che consente di allargare il numero dei personaggi e di meditazioni sulle loro vicende, tutte sempre improntate alla riflessione su lentezza e velocità.
La velocità è la forma di estasi che la rivoluzione tecnologica ha regalato all’uomo.

I miei incontri con Kundera non sono mai stati pienamente soddisfacenti, mi ha sempre lasciato ‘freddo’, forse perché trovo la sua narrativa ‘fredda’. Entomologica. Eccessivamente filosofica. A tesi.
Ma credo che ritenterò.