If you could live forever with your spouse in heaven after you pass, would you? "How do you live in a world with which you disagree? How to live with people when you share neither their suffering nor their joys? When you know that you don't belong among them?"

Agnes and Laura, sisters with opposite traits ground Kundera's novel of variations as he weaves fantasized personalities of the past like Goethe and Hemingway along with himself and friend as narrator to create opportunities to think about who we are - a person who seeks immortality by leaving some kind of mark on this world - or a person who wants to leave without leaving a trace behind.

Alucinante. No se debería vivir sin leer este libro alguna vez. No se puede vivir sin filosofar, y Milan Kundera invita a ello de la mejor manera posible. Me ha enganchado desde el principio, aumentando poquito a poco el "hambre por conocer".

He extraído cientos de frases y pensamientos de entre sus páginas, pero como es imposible citar todo, dejo plasmadas aquí solamente algunos:

"... cada uno iba solo, y sin embargo lo que uno descubría le servía a otro de inspiración y todos sabían que se abrían camino hacia delante, hacia lo desconocido, que era su objetivo común y los unía a todos"
"El que no es, no puede estar presente"
"El hombre no sabe ser mortal, y cuando muere ni siquiera sabe estar muerto"
"Ningún episodio está a priori condenado a seguir siendo para siempre episodio, porque cualquier acontecimiento, aun el más insignificante, esconde dentro de sí la posibilidad de llegar a ser antes o después la causa de otros acontecimientos y convertirse así en una historia o una aventura"

.....

من أجمل ما قرأت ..

بعض اقتباساتي:

يتمثل فخّ الكره في أن يجعلنا نلتصق بغريمنا بإحكام. هذه هي قذارة الحرب: أُلفة الدم المسفوك بصورة متبادلة، الألفة الشهوانية بين جنديين ينظران بعضهما إلى بعض وجهاً لوجه، ويقتتلان. *



ليست رسالة الشعر هي أن يبهرنا بفكرة مدهشة، ولكن أن يجعل لحظة في الوجود لا تُنسى وتستحقّ حنيناً لا يُطاق. *



يستطيع المرء أن يضع حدّاً لحياته لكنّه لا يستطيع أن يضع حدّاً لخلوده..

"Depois disse para comigo: um dia, quando o assalto da fealdade se tiver tornado completamente insuportável, comprará numa florista um miosótis, um único miosótis, com a sua delgada hastezinha encimada pela flor em miniatura, e sairá com ele para a rua mantendo-o diante do rosto, com os olhos fitos nele a fim de não ver mais nada a não ser o belo pontinho azul, derradeira imagem que quer conservar de um mundo que deixou de amar."

Li esta belíssima frase na review de Camille Stein.
E fui ao meu "cemitério de livros esquecidos" procurar a minha Imortalidade...E durante algum tempo revisitei o meu passado e recriei o meu futuro...
Sem dúvida: a minha vida está "escrita" nos meus livros...

Πόσο μπροστά από ολα.

چند تا خرده داستان را کسی مثل میلان کوندرا کنار هم بگذارد و معجون دلپذیر «جاودانگی»‌ را هم بهش اضافه کند، حاصلش چه می‌شود؟
تاد می توی کتاب «مرگ» سعی کرده ترس ما از مرگ و به‌کل عدم‌پذیرش‌مان در مقابل این وجه گریزناپذیر را این‌طوری تسکین بدهد که نامیرایی باعث می‌شود انگیزه نداشته باشیم کارهایمان را سروسامان بدهیم. مرگ و نزدیکی‌اش ما را وامی‌دارد شتاب کنیم، هدف‌ها را یکی پشت دیگری تیک بزنیم و به سوی مرگ پیش برویم. ولی آد‌م‌هایی هم پیدا می‌شوند که وقتی بخت بهشان رو می‌کند و زندگی جاودانه دو دستی بهشان تقدیم می‌شود، باز هم چهره‌شان درهم می‌رود و دوست دارند، مرگ مطلق را تجربه کند. نیستی. گوته در کتاب میلان کوندرا چنین وضعی دارد. او به همراه رفیق‌اش همینگوی جایی در سرزمین آدم‌های جاوید زندگی می‌کند و هر دو به تحلیل گذشته و تصویری که طرفداران و رسانه‌ها ازشان ساخته‌اند، مشغول‌اند. در حالی که بیرون از آن سرزمین، میلان کوندرا نشسته و سرگرم نوشتن یک رمان است. رمانی درباره عشق، مرگ و جاودانگی. رمانی که به نظرش می‌رسد باید اسم آن را «سبکی تحمل‌ناپذیر هستی» بگذارد، هرچند اشاره می‌کند که این عنوان را قبلاً به کتاب دیگری داده. در سوی دیگری از رمان، زنی در درون خویش مشغول زندگی‌ست. تمام هستی زن در درونش می‌گذرد. کم حرف می‌زند، کم واکنش نشان می‌دهد و کم هیجان و عاطفه‌اش را ابراز می‌کند. رمان با تصویری گنگ از این زن کم‌کم قوام پیدا می‌کند. شاید در ابتدا مثل من، از خواندن «جاودانگی» کسل بشوید اما خیلی زود، داستان از حالت بی‌شکل و نطفه‌ایش بیرون می‌آید و زن بالغی می‌شود که قبل از فاش شدن رازهایش، جاودانگی او را مثل جارو‌برقی بزرگی، هورت می‌کشد. شاید جاودانگی یک فرمول به‌خصوص دارد. شاید بشود با بر جا گذاشتن ردی از خودمان بر دنیای فانی، روزنه‌ای را برای ادامه‌ی زندگی‌مان در سرزمین آدم‌های جاودانه باز کنیم.

Kendisi de cılız bir ölümsüzlük iddiası olan tekrar okuma eylemi, metnin olağan akışını tersine çevirebilir. Otobanın çıplak yüzeyinde tüten o kısacık jest, uçuşan genç kız elinin havada çizdiği kuş kanatçığı, geçmişi tarafından serbest bırakılmış sayısız ihtiyardan birini çağırabilecek kadar güçlenmiş. İşte: Mola yerinde yanımda bitti, kitabı gösterip teklifsizce sordu: Bunun konusu ne, o kadar dikkatli okuyorsun? Roman, dedim. Muhabbet bekleyen ihtiyar, onu başımdan savdığımı sandı; biraz bozuk, ağır aksak uzaklaştı. Ne yani, konusu roman olan bir roman değil mi bu?

S razlogom čekala da odrastem.

" ما لا يُطاقُ في الحياة ليس أن تكون , بل أن تكون أناك !
العيش , ليس في ذلك أيّه سعادة .
أن تعيش : هو أن تحمل أناك المتألّمة عبر العالم .
أمّا الكينونة , فالكينونة سعادة .
أن تكون : يعني أن تتحوّل إلى نبع , فسقيّة من الحجر يهطلل فيها الكون مثل مطر دافئ ... ! "
ميلان كونديرا المغرقة في المتعة و الأسرار و الكشف و الحقيقة و الدهشة , المداعب للعبث , الراني نحو الخلود !
من كمبيوتر الخالق , إلى خدعة الحياء الألذّ , إلى معنى الطرح و الجمع في " الأنا " , إلى السرّ المستكنّ في حركة لا معنى لها إلّا أن تهامس الخلود , و حتى ميناء الساعة , مرورا بالسيارات التي اغتالت الكاتدرائيات و المدن , و الصدف التي يبعثرها القدر - الكمبيوتر - لنهيم دوائر اللامعنى الذي نوهّمه معنى , أو المعنى السرّ الذي يتبدّى بلا معنى ,
أين " الأنا " ... ميف ... لماذا؟!
هنا السؤال !
و بين ثناياه عوالم كونديرا و عوالمنا المغرقة في تداخل الدهشة و تكاشف الأسرار .. حتّى في أبسط ما لا نبصره

Playful ... moving ... didactic ... erotic ... misleading ... satisfying ...

A couple years ago I bought four of Kundera’s books at once – this one, The Joke, Ignorance, and of course The Unbearable Lightness of Being – never having read a word written by him.

Immortality is the first that I’ve read.

I don’t know much about postmodernism in literature. I’ve read some novels that are called postmodernist. But there are many more … Here’s a list of ten that I found on line.

Sot Weed Factor – I read decades ago, loved it
Blood and Guts in High School – never heard of it, tho looks interesting
Wittgenstein’s Mistress – looks very tempting
Pale Fire – on my Maybe list – I should read it
Gravity’s Rainbow – read decades ago, liked it – probably didn’t understand it tho
House of Leaves – it’s said to be good, but this is the sort of postmodern novel I can’t abide at my age – no, no, no
Labyrinths (Borges) – have it partially read, love it
Sixty Stories (Barthelme) – was off my radar, now it’s on it
Infinite Jest – have it, unread
The Recognitions – on my Maybe list – I think I’ll eventually get to it.

I’ll also mention Cloud Atlas, which I read and loved.
and Textermination, which I have but frankly is probably beyond my comprehension, and may never be read

I’m sure there are others I have which would qualify.Some readers rave about a certain type of postmodernist novel, one which present the reader with a dense thicket of cross-referencing passages, unreliable narrators, made up words – basically a thousand (or 10,000) piece jigsaw puzzle with no picture of what it’s supposed to look like. This is definitely not for me (I reiterate – if you read the spoiler). If I want to work hard, I’ll do it in non-fiction reading, not a damn novel. Fiction is mostly for pleasure at my age.

Immortality has faint traces of this sort of postmodernism. But not enough to deter me. I found it a very interesting read, to say the least.

The first character we gradually discover is Agnes. Agnes is built from a gesture that the narrator sees an older woman make at a swimming pool.

At that instant I felt a pang in my heart! That smile and that gesture belonged to a twenty-year-old girl! Her arm rose with bewitching ease. It was as if she were playfully tossing a brightly colored ball to her lover. That smile and that gesture had charm and elegance, while the face and the body no longer had any charm. It was the charm of a gesture drowning in the charmlessness of the body ... I was strangely moved. And then the word Agnes entered my mind. Agnes. I had never known a woman by that name.

But wait. Is this elderly woman, charmless, possibly named Agnes, really a character in the novel? And what about that first-person narrator? Is he not a character, in a sense?

To answer the second first, no, the narrator is in fact Milan Kundera, the author. Not fictional, so far as I know.

The first question requires a couple more pages of reading. Then,

When I wake up, at almost eight-thirty, I try to picture Agnes. She is lying, like me, in a wide bed. The right side of the bed is empty. Who could her husband be? Clearly, somebody who leaves the house early on Saturday mornings. That’s why she is alone, sweetly swinging between waking and sleeping.

Then she gets up. Facing her is a TV set, standing on one long, storklike leg. She throws her nightgown over the tube, like a white, tasseled theater curtain. She stands close to the bed, and for the first time I see her naked. Agnes, the heroine of my novel. I can’t take my eyes off this beautiful woman, and as if sensing my gaze she hurries off to the adjoining room to get dressed.

Who is Agnes? … Agnes sprang from the gesture of that sixty-year-old woman at the pool … whose features are already fading from my memory. At the time, that gesture aroused in me immense, inexplicable nostalgia, and this nostalgia gave birth to the woman I call Agnes.

So we’re off. This first section of the novel, “The face”, introduces the people surrounding Agnes – her mother and father, her husband Paul, her daughter Brigitte, her sister Laura.

These are the remaining sections of the novel

Two. Immortality. An essay about Goethe, his longing for immortality, and a bizarre relationship he had (and/or tried not to have) with Bettina – aka Bettina von Arnim. Fascinating.



Johann Wolfgang von Goethe in 1828 (Wiki)



Bettina von Arnim as drawn by Ludwig Emil Grimm during the first decade of the 19th century (Wiki)


Three. Fighting. The longest section of the novel, the story of the relationships between Agnes and the other characters, including newly introduced characters. The subparts have their own titles, such as The sisters; Dark glasses; Older woman, younger man; Imagology; A complete ass; To be a victim of one’s fame; Professor Avenarius; The gesture of longing for immortality.

Four. Homo sentimentalis. Back to Goethe, including (like other sections) many comments on, and conversations with, such as Rilke, Hemingway, Rimbaud, Aristotle, Stendahl, Schnitzler.

Five. Chance. Swinging back and forth between a conversation between the narrator and Prof. Avenarius, himself (wholly or in part) a character in the novel. An amusing passage.

Avenarius lapsed into a perplexed silence. After a while he asked me, in a kindly voice, “And what will your novel be called?”
“The Unbearable Lightness of Being.”
“I think somebody has already written that.”
“I did! But I was wrong about the title then. That title was supposed to belong to the novel I’m writing right now.”
We stopped talking and concentrated on the taste of the wine and the duck.

Six. The dial. A connected story about Rubens. Not the noted artist, but a contemporary man, once having had ambitions to be an artist, but instead consumed by a desire to explore the phases and ages of love. The connection to the rest of the novel is only slowly revealed. The “dial” variously described as the dial of a clock, then “Europe’s dial”, ultimately the dial of life

Seven. The celebration. Short. A reunion. Professor Avenarius, the narrator, the other characters (as it were, in search of an author). The celebration …(perhaps a real

I quickly went out into the street.

The roadway was filled with cars honking incessantly. Motorcycles drove up on the sidewalk and snaked their was between pedestrians. I thought of Agnes. It was precisely two years ago that I had first imagined her, while reclining in a deck chair upstairs in the health club, waiting for Avenarius. That was the reason why today I had ordered a bottle of wine. I had finished the novel and I wanted to celebrate it in the place where the first idea for it had been born.

The cars were honking their horns, and I heard the shouts of angry people. It was in such circumstances that Agnes longed to buy a forget-me-not, a single forget-me-not stem; she longed to hold it before her eyes as a last, scarcely visible trace of beauty.

(and as) … a longing for immortality, the unbearable longing to not be forgotten.




Playful ... moving ... didactic ... erotic ... misleading ... satisfying ...

Did I like it? Guess.




Milan Kundera, in 1980 (wiki)

" و أنت تلتذّ بلحم فخذ البط الشهي هذا ، أتشعر بالملل ؟ أتستعجل الوصول إلى الغاية ؟ بالعكس ، أنت ترغب في أن تبتلع هذا البط أبطأ ما يمكن ، و أن تدوم نكهته في فمك إلى الأبد . لا ينبغي أن تشبه الرواية سباق دراجات ، بل مأدبة تتذوق فيها ألواناً من الأطباق . " ص 279
و هذا ما كنت أفعله و أنا أقرأ هذه التحفة الأدبية ، كنت أتلذذ ، ميلان في هذه الرواية أبدع ، تعد هذه قراءتي السابعة له، لكن هذه أجمل رواية قرأتها من بينهن ، و أفضل ما في الموضوع هو أنني لم أقرأ هذه الرواية قبل رواياته الآخرى ، لأن بعد هذه الرواية ، كل ما قرأت له كانت محاولات فقط ، لكن هنا استخدم كل ما لديه من الأفكار و انسجها معاً في قصة محبوكة بشكل رائع .
في البداية الشخصيات تبدو عشوائية و لا يربطها أيّ شيء ، لكن في النهاية (كما في نهاية المتاهة فهناك طريق واحد للخروج و يخرجون كلهم منه) .
احببت جداً طريقته في توظيف الشخصيات التاريخية في روايته العصرية ، مثلاً نراه يجعل من الفيلسوف(افيناريوس) شخصية رئيسية في روايته ، غوته و همنكواي ايضاً كان لهما حصة في الرواية ، حتى نابليون

باید باید باید کوندرا خون باشی تا بتونی بفهمی حرف حسابش چیه.
داستان خط روایی مشخصی نداره و انقدر عجیب شخصیتها مرتبط میشن به هم که ادم دوست داره بلندشه دست بزنه واسش
خیییلیی سانسور داره البته کُل اثار چاپ شدش تو ایران
تِم فلسفیه داستان با طنز خیلی م��ایم تو بع��ی جاهاش و سبک خود کوندرا باعث میشه هفتیم کتاب ازشو بخونم