Milan Kundera Books

This is one of the first novelas Kundera has written in French, and is certainly among the best in his long series of observations of human nature. Although all the novelas exist in the shadow of Kundera's great full length novels, The Unbearable Lightness of Being and Immortality, they are all literary gems well worth reading.

This is a good book. I reads very quickly and remains witty and interesting the whole way through.

Who talks like the characters in this book? Are there really people in the world who do? And where are they so I can smack all the self-pity right out of them?!
All I could think while I read this book was, "These people need to get a hobby or something because they have way too much time on their hands."

Years ago, I had read the first few chapters of The Unbearable Lightness of Being in a bookstore. The words stayed with me always, until years later when I actually had the opportunity to complete the reading. Identity had a different effect. I chose it for a train ride because the book I was really searching for was not in stock. Unfortunately, I'm quite disappointed.

Kundera's characters are not believable. Then again, I understand why. This is Kundera we're talking about. I believe his emphasis usually to be on what he writes about the world and psychology. Less importance is given to how it is actually told (in my mere judgment). Honestly, not only have I yet to meet anyone who converses like either Chantal or Jean-Marc, the two protagonists are also boring and not relatable. By about the 24th (or so) chapter I found myself gauging the thickness of progress I've made in the pages versus how thick the book is, and was happy to realize that Identity is a short novel.

Chantal is average. I understand the importance of using everyday subjects in writing about life's generalities and quirks, which is how I generally view Kundera as a writer. I think it can be agreed upon that he writes his personal takes on psychology through characters and in fiction form. However, Chantal isn't even pleasantly average. We know nothing about her all the way until about chapter 42 when she begins fantasizing awkward sexual situations while riding a train into England from Paris for initial reasons obscure.

The plot is boring. Basically, a woman receives admiration letters in her mailbox each morning--which, by the way, we knew were from her existing boyfriend the second we read the first instance, yet it takes half the novel to reveal this information. Whether or not Kundera wanted his readers to know more than Chantal is ambiguous to me. Perhaps her ignorance and continual fantasies about whom the author of her letters could be is more of a testament to her weakness and susceptibility as an older woman than I had previously realized. Either way, the subject is irritating, and upon hearing the fuss about her first letter, I had no idea that this was the entire plot of the novel. Then it never went away.

When the woman (Chantal) realizes that her boyfriend has been making a checkpoint of her hiding spot for these letters (and consequently realizes that he has been writing them himself), she is offended, and he confused, for the woman he believes to be his loved one would never hide silly letters from him. Thus, he questions her identity, all in a short chapter-long internal struggle leading well, nowhere. Immediately following: an awkward and unnecessary run-in with Chantal's previous family. It is Chantal, however, who instigates the couple's separation.

I get it, I get it. Chantal in the beginning is not Chantal at the end. Somewhere along the line fantasy intrudes the (mediocre) story we had been reading. Parts are clever, but 80 percent of the book is a bore, frankly. There are some good quotes, but the story is not memorable enough for my taste. I particularly liked, "That is why she dislikes dreams: they impose an unacceptable equivalence among the various periods of the same life, a leveling contemporaneity of everything a person has ever experienced; they discredit the present by denying it its privileged status" (5). Also, "That `and that's how time goes by for them' is a fundamental line. Their problem is time--how to make time go by, go by on its own, by itself, with no effort from them, without their being required to get through it themselves" (79). I'm sort of glad to be through with Identity but I'll keep reading Kundera--my impression for this one is just weak.

Milan Kundera published Identity (L'Identité) after moving to France from Czechoslovakia in 1975. Kundera is perhaps best known for his 1984 novel, The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Two things make Identity unique. It is arguably the most traditional novel Kundera has written to date, and at 176 pages in length, it is also among his shortest works. It tells the simple story of a recently divorced ad executive, Chantal, who meets her younger lover, Jean-Marc at a seaside hotel. While Chantal is out walking, Jean-Marc searches for her. She wonders why "men don't turn to look at [her] anymore," contemplating the possibility that she is now too old to be considered attractive by other men. She defines herself through the perceptions of others, until she begins receiving love notes from an anonymous admirer. Chantal hides the letters from Jean-Marc and fantasizes about each new man she encounters, wondering if he is her secret admirer. The two protagonists reveal Kundera's brilliant mind at work in contemplating whether it is ever possible to know the intimate object of one's love, further complicated by the impermanent nature of identity. While Identity may not be Kundera at his best (for that, read The Unbearable Lightness of Being), it is nevertheless worth the investment of an afternoon or late night reading a short novel by a truly unique writer. Trust me. Even when Kundera is not at his best, he is still better by far than other writers at their best.

G. Merritt

This was an account of the move from one world to another and how if affected both the person who left for a better life and those who were left behind. It is a good way to see the world through the eyes of an emigre and the deep changes such a move creates in relationships among friends and family.

It's been a while since I've read Milan Kundera but I'm glad I've started reading his recent work. I loved THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING years ago.

I picked up IGNORANCE because I was intrigued with the idea of two Czechs returning to their homeland after 20 years and resuming their relationship. While the novel doesn't chronicle the "love story" between Irena and Josef (most of the novel traces their journeys home that leads to their meeting), it does expose how unreliable our memories and interactions can be.
What we've done, what we remember, how we move on.
As usual, Kundera delivers more than what I was looking for.

This short book describes the feelings and perceptions of a Czech that emigrates to France during the communist era who returns to her homeland after many years. It will surely be a delightful read for those living away from their home countries.

But the issues are universal: How does human memory work? What is the difference between what we remember and what we would like to remember? How do other people remember us? Are we freed by the future or captured by the past? Aparently simple questions that Kundera magnificantly puts to the readers throught this beautiful novel.

I doubt this is Kundera's masterpiece. But it is short, interesting, and enjoyable. Recommended.

Ignorance, by Milan Kundera, is a small novel but big on ideas. Playing like a watered down Odyssey, two Czech émigrés return to post-communist Prague after twenty years. A chance meeting in the airport stirs memories of long ago that leads to an interesting study of our memory, its limits and unreliability, and how, in our ignorance, we can take it for granted and trust it too much.

Irena fled to France during the Russian invasion; Josef to Denmark. Both have built new lives, made new friends, and forgotten who they were. After the fall of European communism in 1989, they return to their city only to find that it's no longer theirs; it's full of tourists, whores, and restaurants the Czechs can't afford. A chance sighting in the airport causes Irena to engage Josef in conversation; she remembers him from a conversation twenty years ago. They agree to meet, and, as the novel builds up to their rendezvous, they go about their homecomings - meeting parents, friends, and, ultimately, themselves - to discover that Prague is no longer home.

Stylistically, the book is a dream. Although little happens in the novel - a conversation here, a wander there - it is the narrator's asides that gels the experience, wandering off into philosophical mode, or giving atypical history lessons - all the time, maintaining a poetic tone. The prose is terse, but just right to create the surreal atmosphere it needs to succeed. It wanders effortlessly between the different characters and the lessons learned from their actions.

The characters are well drawn, although their focus is completely on their homecoming, their memory, and doubts about their patriotism. Their actions are believable; their conversations intelligent. Prague, as a character, is underdone - little of the city is given, and, after twenty years, it would have been nice to know the visible changes that time has wrought.

Overall, Kundera has provided an appealing novel, doubtless inspired by his own circumstances as a Czech émigré. While it may not be to the tastes of all (i.e. those seeking action) it does endow us with food for thought, something to consider about our memories. And, at least for me, the true thrill was watching how the philosophical and historical asides came together to complete the novel, and reinforce the characters' feelings.

"Ignorance" is a story about memory: how much are we actually capable of remembering and how often do our memories fail us? In this novel, two characters encounter each other at a Paris airport during a return trip to Prague. Josef and Irena both fled the country twenty years ago during the Russian invasion. When they bump into each other at the airport, Irena immediately remembers an encounter she had with Josef some twenty years beforehand. Unfortunately, Joseph has no memory of her, although he chooses to keep that information to himself. They exchange phone numbers and agree to meet up again in Prague. Before that happens, the reader is treated to a series of flashbacks. We learn that Irena left Prague because her first husband, Martin, was wanted by the authorities. Josef was disgusted by Communism and left to start over in Denmark. Both characters have built new lives for themselves and are haunted by the memories that resurface when they return to the country they once called home. Additionally, there are many new and annoying aspects of Prague that they have to adjust to, and the old acquaintances that Josef and Irena once knew are now practically strangers to them.

Milan Kundera's novel parallels the story of Odysseus. Irena and Josef have both traveled long journeys and eventually returned home. They experience many conflicting emotions and feelings of nostalgia. Eventually Irena and Josef arrange another meeting, which turns into an incredibly painful experience for both of them.

There are many different themes in this book, but I think the biggest one is that people can't escape their pasts and they can't recreate their pasts, either, no matter how hard they try. "Ignorance" is a subtle but beautifully written book. Personally, I think it's incredibly sad and depressing, but the story is one that everyone will be able to relate to in some way, as we all have memories that we cherish and some that we'd give anything to forget.

Who hasn't felt that life is happening elsewhere? Milan Kundera is perhaps best known for The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Set in World War II Czechoslovakia, where people were imprisoned for their opinions, his 1973 novel, Life Is Elsewhere (Zivot je jinde), is a dark satire that tells the story of Jaromil, a sheltered young man who dreams of writing lyrical poetry in the tradition of Rimbaud, but who is put to the task of writing Communist propoganda instead. Raised by his mother, Jaromil's father was put to death in a gulag. He is capable of betraying even his girlfriend to the Party. It is important to understand that Kundera wrote this novel, which examines the role of the poet in a totalitarian society, after being expelled from the Communist Party (for the second time) in 1970, and before moving to France in 1975, where he has lived in exile ever since. The novel conveys the sense that, in a repressed society, "life is elsewhere." This is quintessential Kundera, full of good, powerful writing.

G. Merritt

(Note that this review refers to an earlier translation of the novel)

This is a somewhat schematic work and not at all what it might appear to be to the casual reader. Superficially it is a fictional biography of a young man, an aspiring poet who is a contemporary of the author himself. The character is conceived (yes, we get a picture of his conception, or at least his mother's version of it, since he is the center of her existence, and everything about him is not only fascinating to her but must fall into the right place in the well-ordered design of his life which she creates), he is born, he lives a life of ambition and shame, he dies. His name is Jaromil ("lover of spring"). His mother worships him and attempts to organize his life so that he will fulfill what she believes is his promise to become a great artist, even a "great socialist poet". He is both comforted by her presence and unconditional affection and irritated by her smothering attitudes, which enchain him to a perpetual childhood. He formulates strategies of psychological escape into what he imagines maturity must be. The strategies are not flattering (e.g., a period of furious masturbation to compensate for a bout of psychologically-determined impotence with his first girlfriend; verbal and physical mistreatment of his second girlfriend, ending in a betrayal of her and her family to the security police; reporting to the authorities on the unacceptable attitudes of his teachers; constant "elevated" poeticizing of his own miserable existence; and so on).

Through his mother the world bows to Jaromil, but he is uncertain how widespread this homage will be. He is the only character in the book who has a name (excepting his idealized, improved self, a creation of his imagination known, with rather heavy symbolism, as Xavier, a heroic wraith who rescues maidens in distress and then abandons them as he jumps from dream to dream without ever awakening to the soiled reality which surrounds us). The rest of the nameless cast consists of: Maman ("Mommy"); the absent then deceased father; the detested bourgeois aunt and uncle; the janitor's son, later a policeman; the dark-haired Jewish intellectual; the artist, a painter who is Maman's lover and Jaromil's childhood mentor; the admired and envied famous poet; the old poet with gray hair; the middle-aged man (who may be Kundera's fictional alter-ego); and, most important after Maman, the series of girls with whom he has idealized or realized romantic and erotic relations -- the studious girl with spectacles (spiritual kinship, erotic failure), the skinny, unattractive red-headed girl (easy consummation, possessive "love", disappointment, confabulation, betrayal), and the young woman who makes films (erotic, social, and intellectual failure of the most devastating type).

The story takes place in Prague, but there are only a few clues to this, and it might as well have taken elsewhere. The settings are generic - a home that is "nationalized" into an apartment, a university, a park, and of course a large "national security" building, whose employees, policemen, have taken over the confiscated suburban villa of a formerly wealthy bourgeois citizen and converted it into a retreat and recreation center, a place to which Jaromil and his fellow poets are invited to present their work and then engage in a very spurious "dialogue" with the guard dogs of the system. There is more information on the shabbiness of underwear (perhaps intended to limn the shabbiness of official ideals and the behavior of men on the make in the new socialist state "under construction") during the critical time depicted -- say, 1945 to 1950 -- than there is on other indicators of time and place. The nameless characters and the accompanying skeletal props are in fact a stage-setting in which Jaromil acts out a narcissistic play, bedeviled by fears he has that the audience - the rest of the world, people he encounters in school and on the streets - will have an unflattering opinion of him, will see him for what he is, a self-centered, immature youth. Poetry is the weapon he will use to rearrange matters to his satisfaction. And lyrical poetry - its basis in false-heroic notions of the self, its deficiencies with respect to portraying the grim realities of most lives, its ability to becloud the mind while it stirs the soul, and its easy co-optation for propaganda purposes by cynical rulers - is the author's target.

For the book is a thesis of anti-lyricism, a polemical position which is never explicitly stated. We are led to the anti-lyrical position by the pitiful conceits and the dreadful consequences of lyricism as they are seen in Jaromil's unlovely existence (and, for the historical period, in his typical biography). In fact, in Chapter 6, Verse 2, we are given a precise description of the misleading yet attractive and satisfying nature of lyricism, a mini-thesis presentation of the ideas that Jaromil's life embodies. Chapter 6 also illustrates Kundera's long-term fascination with older eighteenth-century predecessors of the "novel of ideas" (rather than the novel of characters or plot, which are perhaps better utilized, in Kundera's mind, as devices to get at the discussion of ideas - or as a way into the examination of changing human situations; this latter consideration shows the lasting influence of French existentialism on Kundera). In this chapter the author breaks into the third-person narrative of Jaromil's life in order to address the reader directly, to pose questions about relative perspectives, and to jump forward beyond his protagonist's death into the relationship of two other characters whose lives have been affected by Jaromil's impostures, before bringing us back to the "death of the poet" in the last chapter. It suggests the possibility of alternative novels that might have been written about other characters in the story - the janitor's son who became a policeman, the red-headed girl - but are now excluded by virtue of the author's having made his choice.

The author's intervention has become, in his words, an "observation tower" which allows him to adjust his focus on the main character (who is, in fact, "the embodiment of lyricism") and also point his telescope into the future and the past. Another set of meditations emerges in this chapter, founded in Jaromil's life but pointing to broader considerations: the poet, especially the Romantic poet, as a "Mama's boy" who reconfigures his life through desperate efforts at escape, both in life and through his art. Kundera uses this characterization to briefly illuminate this aspect of the lives and careers of the 1920s Czech poet Jiri Wolker, and the revered Romantics Shelley, Lermontov, and Rimbaud, would-be bad-boys fleeing the embraces of their mothers and grandmothers, each of whom might be seen as erecting a cult of the defiant self. So Chapter 6 - which, in Kundera's favorite musical terms, is a sort of recapitulation of themes before proceeding to the coda of the last chapter - gives the reader a peculiar gloss on a particular phenomenon in the history of literature.

The translation by Peter Kussi seems acceptable and solid to me, a reader who does not speak Czech. Since the novel is schematic and occasionally thesis-like, there is no need for stylistic heroics or adventures, so I assume the translation reflects a down-to-earth expository prose approach of the original Czech text. Kundera is famously attentive to and fussy about the fine points of translation. I do not know if this particular translation meets his standards. Possibly not, since there was another translation by Aron Asher ten years after this one, and it has the Kundera "seal of approval" in a brief postscript. The Asher translation is a little more "flowing", even lyrical, which is surprising when Kundera's animus against lyricism is taken into account. However, in matters of narrative substance and historical allusions the two translations are interchangeable.

With regard to the contentious subject of "the lyrical age" of men (and mankind), Kundera devoted several passages of his "The Joke" to its consideration, and he has continued to consider it in his several volumes of literary essays. The briefest way to put it is that "the lyrical age" of young men and women is a period of intense adolescent narcissism and intellectual immaturity born of uncertainty about the self. This leads them into "all or nothing" attitudes which invariably have harmful consequences for themselves and others (in the Czech case for the period depicted, "lyricism" resulted in a cheerful alliance between poets and hangmen, as Kundera often reiterates). The biographical background of this long-lasting preoccupation relates, I believe, to what he perceives as the failings and poetic impostures of his own youth, most especially his long poem "The Last May", which depicts in stilted terms the last days of the Communist martyr and cult icon, Julius Fucik. How much of Jaromil is autobiographical in its details, that is, a fictionalized version of "early Kundera" can only be guessed at. Just as he killed off Jaromil as a character by having him choose to die in response to his disappointments (his fatal pneumonia stemming from a weak attempt at suicide) Kundera deliberately killed off his earlier self by ceasing to write poetry and turning to prose and to the novel as an "instrument of rational discourse" (my term for his approach). In the end I would call the book a successful thesis and only a qualified success as a novel (tastes and judgments about this will, I realize, vary greatly among its readers). Whatever my own hesitations on this point, I recommend the book as well worth reading to those interested in Kundera's career, in Czech literature, and in that part of the recent past in central Europe which is now entering its late phase of "living memory", which means that it might soon be forgotten altogether or significantly misrepresented.

Although 'Life is Elsewhere' is not one of Milan Kundera's most celebrated novels, it is without doubt one of the most intimate and beautifully written.

Detractors and critics of Kundera often gripe that his characters are unpleasant, underdeveloped and shallow human beings. All these critics need to do is read this novel to see how incorrect this assertion is. Within 'Life is Elsewhere' we see an intimate account of the life and development of a young poet named Jaromil, with a specific focus on his relationship with his mother. The beautiful manner in which this relationship is rendered allows us to appreciate a subtle interplay between the poet's relationship with his mother, and his relationship with the female sex in general.

When one hears of a novel about such a relationship, one is tempted to picture the story of a man who is utterly dominated by a controlling and posessive mother, however this is not how Kundera develops their bond. Here what we find is the story of a mother and child relationship whose closeness transcends the usual maternal bonds. Intertwined with this relationship is the poet's passion for his art and his use of it to express and promote his socialist political ideologies.

The skill, beauty and dexterity with which Kundera interweaves the many facets and relationships of this novel, as well as the depth of character present, should be enough to assuage even the most ardent of his critics.

I bought the book after reading the 1st chapter where "the Poet is conceived". Unfortunately, it was downhill from there.

This book tired me out so much with the way it rambled on and on. It seemed far too self righteousness and preachy; it was almost pretentious. It was also difficult to empathize with it's main character who was a pathetic, untalented, mama's boy poet.

Having read and enjoyed a few other Kundera books, I really tried to give this a chance. It was a struggle to finish it. If you don't like ending up hating the protagonist, your time is better spent reading something else.

I finally borrowed another of Milan Kundera's books to read from the university library. I didn't enjoy it as much as I did The Unbearable Lightness of Being. However there were still a lot of incisive and thoughtful passages.

What I like most about Milan Kundera is his marvelous skill in capturing the essence of his thoughts in words, and also the thoughts themselves which reveal a kindred soul in deep contemplation of human and life. Whenever I read his books, I feel a longing to write something as deeply revealing as his books.

Life is Elsewhere is about the life of a young poet named Jaromil. The viewpoint is erected at his demise, as the writer tells us. The poet and his mother's relationship are one of the main subjects in this book. The writer says he meant to name the book The Lyric Age but changed the title at the last moment because the publishers worried that no one would buy a book with such an abstract title.

Many critics see this book as a satire of literature, of literary talent, and of life. However, as I read the book, I didn't perceive it as a satire. I felt it to be honest, sometimes brutally so, but still with sympathy and self-pity wrapped around it. Every aspiring artist is bound to go through some of what Jaromil went through.

It especially makes one wonder how literary genius can be defined or if it even can be defined. The writer himself writes in the preface that Jaromil is not a bad poet. I kept that in mind as I read the book. Jaromil is in fact a very sensitive though naive and immature poet. Nobody can be the absolute judge of literary talent.

Summary: Pietistic Nihilism, Subtle Narcism, Soap Opera Discourse.

The story is simple soap opera fare. The characters are poorly dissimulated (that is, articulated) doppelgangers of the author. The product (a labour of ego, i.e. masturbation) is a sort of vain self-referential humor (cynicism in tartuffe airs) that seduces the reader into an alliance with the narrator(s) (Kundera) against the more or less superficial subjective reflections (Kundera) on the part of the personalities concerned (again, Kundera). The ignorant do not know: the stupid do not know they do not know. Kundera has here an expose of ignorance that is stupid-- it thinks it is 'art' being anti-art, but is merely a cipher of the culture it pretends to escape; the author is in a cave of modernity and gets off on leading others into a further permutation of it and what makes it radically evil is that he pretends to show you the way out with facile threads of irony (admitting the spiral tangent it is).

This novel is not farce: it is all very calculated and nothing actually outlandish takes place. It is not satire either, because it fails to elucidate anything. It's not a parody, it parodies nothing except life because it must. As a reflection on the intransigence of Time and the senselessness of the acts by humans occurring in it, the novel succeeds only inasmuch as an image of a mirror of a mirror are shown to be mere anagrams of what is (a mirror) [This both is and should sound stupid.]. The problem: no one needs to be told this or read a book such as this to know/understand/experience what has just been described. It is one thing to laugh at the vanity of 'humanity' in the sense Schopenhauer meant (whom Kundera must be familiar with) but entirely another to laugh at one's vanity because one MUST laugh; is incontinence not the very essence of egoism?

The laughter is self-conscious and most of all, forgettable. --This is not a book of laughter and forgetting. It is a book to laugh at and forget. Everyone has better things to do and books to read than this cultured trash.

This is the third of Kundera's books I have read and by far my least favorite. I had previously read The Unbearable Lightness of Being and Immortality. I loved the former and really enjoyed the latter though with more than a little quarrel. Reading Farewell Waltz made all the problems I had with Immortality harder to dismiss.

First for all his "love" of women I cannot help but see him as a misogynist. Like the other books of his I read there is a fair amount dedicated to characters exposing their ideas. Only hear it is done more in dialogue than with an omniscient sounding narrator. And while the spa town is mostly filled mostly with women yet is is the male character who do most of the talking and always get the last word in the arguments. And of course they spend a lot of time talking a bout women and the reproductive cycle, while the female characters never express an opinion on these subjects.

Most of the women in the spa town are treated more en mass than as characters, while even the group of male pensioners who exist to capture dogs gets to have a more vocal reflection than any of the women. One of the main character's is a gynecologist named Dr. Skrata, who seems a beloved eccentric of the author's but his treatment of his patients is about as frightening as Jeremy Irons's twins in Dead Ringers. And as I said, based on the other reading of his I have done, I doubt Kundera is entirely in jest, if not completely out of it.

Summary:
"[For] Kundera, the individual is the smallest cell of society, the object, not the subject of history." - Elisabeth Pochoda
In a small spa town, seven characters searching for happiness find themselves intertwined in a waltz orchestrated by Milan Kundera. In five days you will be introduced to, and discover, the secrets and desires of a pretty nurse (Ruzena), a suspicious boyfriend, a gynecologist, a rich American, a famous trumpeter and his obsessively jealous wife and a former political prisoner about to leave the country. How far will the characters go to fulfill their will? Human morality, responsibility, and quest for stability are held under scrutiny and explored in this wonderfully written book.

Thoughts:
Full of wit, charm, sudden revelations and memorable quotes, this book is a true enchantment to read, bringing you into the lives of all these characters. You'll wonder when and where their interaction will occur and once you discover it, you won't be able to stop reading on to wonder where the characters will go next. A wonderful read that will certainly become a favorite.

Memorable quotes (as I translated from the French):
"Aesthetic racism is almost always a mark of inexperience. [...] When God invited humanity to love and to reproduce, doctor, he was thinking of the ugly just as much as the handsome. I am thus convinced that aesthetic criticism comes not from God, but from the Devil. In heaven, no one distinguishes between ugliness and beauty."

"I say that maternity is a curse and I refuse to contribute in it."

"I know only one thing; that I could never say with total conviction that man is a wonderful being and I want to reproduce it."

Go out and pick up the book today. Delve into this wonderful work by Milan Kundera!

It is true that 'Farewell Waltz' is among Kundera's lighter novels and does not pack as much of a philosophical punch as some of his other works. However this is not to say that it lacks the gifted Kunderian touch.

What Kundera presents us with here is an examination of the complications that can be encountered where matters of the heart are concerned. The characters of 'Farewell Waltz' are plagued with inconquerable passions, raging jealousies and, at times, appallingly shallow self-interestedness.
These potentially unpleasant characteristics however form a potent and entertaining mix for the reader, as well as a novel that is not short on depth and examinations of the emotional turmoil that the human mind is prone to.

Although the characters of this novel are somewhat more unpleasant than those in Kundera's other offerings. 'Farewell Waltz' is still a good read and an interesting aside in the career of a great writer.

It is a strange story .. at the beginning you might think it is one of those books dealing with something that could happen everyday .. but the way the characters are woven into the story .. the complications and the revelations of each one of them is way extreme!

A five day adventure .. a hideous ride .. a mockery of human life .. six different characters.. none of them was happy or satisfied with what he/she had .. each one of them wanted more and something better .. and took hard measures to reach their goals just like Dr. Skreta whom I think is ironically funny, smart and desperate!

Kundera keeps you in touch with his characters .. you know what they think and how they feel .. you know their weaknesses and their strengths .. and what they want to accomplish ..yet I didn't expect such a tragedy!
Read it and enjoy!

Like most of the Kundera's books I was sticked to it until i finish the reading. It's a very struggling story about people that has been auto-exilated.

This book can be seen as an essay about memory, cause Kundera presents the remembrances and hopes of the characters are so dissimilar about reality showing differences between man and woman feelings and perceptions.

I dislike Kundera's misogyny.

Irena salió de Praga después de la ocupación soviética de 1968 rumbo a Paris, en donde vive desde hace 20 años. Sin embargo para sus amigos franceses ella siempre ha sido una emigrante. Nadie quiere entender que sus 20 años en Paris son los años de su vida y no los años que dejó atrás en Praga en su patria perdida. Después de la caída de la cortina de hierro ella visita Praga y se da cuenta de que allí tan ella es tan sólo vista como una visita, que Paris es su nueva Patria, pero sin embargo Paris no quiere serlo. En Praga ella encuentra a su ex-marido que también ha sido emigrante, pero que había tomado camino a Dinamarca. Ellos creen crear una nueva relación basada en recuerdos pasados, más sin embargo en la vida no se puede dar un salto de veinte años. La novela trata el problema que tienen muchos emigrantes en sus países huéspedes. Para muchos pasan los años y se siguen sintiendo como extranjeros, sin embargo cuando regresan a sus paises de origen, se dan cuenta que estos se les han vuelto extraños. El libro se los recomiendo a todas las personas que viven fuera de su patria.

Virgilio Krumbacher

In "Ignorance", Milan Kundera maintains the same line of writing he has used in his previous works. He develops interesting characters and exposes their thoughts and feelings, maybe mixing them a little bit with specific subjects such as slowness, inmortality or ignorance. He usually does this with great results, his novels are mostly very entertaining and profund in some way. I said in a previous review that when you finish a book by Kundera you feel like you just had a great conversation. However, this doesn't happen with "Ignorance", it still is entertaining and all, but in a very forgetable way.

If you love Kundera and have read at least a few of his books, this literary review will help you grasp the depth of Kundera's works and help you understand why his novels are so revolutonary and enjoyable. Kundera's literary goal, as described by Richard, is nothing short of reinventing the novel as a contemporary art form and free from linear storytelling. Richard sees what Kundera is all about -- we, as readers, sense Kundera's vision but Richard really puts it in clear, simple focus. His description of the Kundera hero, someone who doesn't give up but simply stops playing the game, is worth the price of the book. Again, if you love Kundera and sense what he's all about, this book puts into clear prose exactly what makes Kundera unparalleled among the ranks of contemporary novelists.

Baruch Spinoza is one of the best known 17th century thinkers, as his philosophy of secularism was far ahead of his time. This book aims to create the world at the time through conversations with Baruch and through depiction of the meanders of his life.

His community was of Spanish/Portuguese Jews who fled to Holland. There we know that Baruch was excomungated from the Jewish community, but it is not clear why. Baruch's philophy empashized pure reason as a way to achieve salvation, and not the major religions of the time. His questioning of the existence of a deity were too much for his time, and the book presents such occurences by imagining such a situation.

This is an interesting book, but I am not sure this would be a good intro duction to Spinoza. There is too much that the book takes for granted that the reader knows; this book is recommended to those familiar with Spinoza's philosophy and wanting a better feel for what it must have been like at the time to hold such thoughts. Not for the beginner.

Este es uno de los primeros libros de Kundera y eso se nota. Claro que para los aficionados al checo, los pecados de juventud del autor son un agradable paseo por los recursos kunderianos. "La insoportable brevedad del cuento" no parece ser el vehículo ideal para las pasiones lentamente informadas por Milan Kundera. De todos modos, la soberbia madurez de sus novelas posteriores ya se prefigura en estos seres que aman con una intensidad carnal, humana.

I don't want to write a review-I would just like to point out that being a Spanish teacher for 35 years I always look for and quickly spot spelling errors-the title of the book is spelled incorrectly---it should be "insoportable,"not "insorpotable!"

Slowness offers a lesson for these fast-paced times, where "time is money," multi-tasking is a talent, and couples must schedule time together for their sexual interludes. Published after his better-known novels The Unbearable Lightness of Being and Immortality, Milan Kundera's 1993 book, Slowness (La Lenteur), is more of a meditation on the effects of contemporary life and technology on memory and sensuality than a traditional novel. "Why has the pleasure of slowness disappeared," Kundera (as narrator) considers as he tells two parallel tales of seduction separated by more than two-hundred years. Through multi-layered plot lines, Kundera (his wife Vera refers to him as "Milanku") visits a country chateau-turned-hotel, while a young, 18th-century French Chevalier also visits the same chateau for an unforgettable night of slow sensual pleasure with his mistress, Madame de T (described as a "Loveable lover of pleasure"). Meanwhile, Kundera's friend, Vincent, arrives at the hotel on his motorcycle, where he joylessly pursues a "quickie" with a girl he met in a bar. A "dancer" named Berck is so caught up in getting things done that he is unable to enjoy his life. The novel ends with a brilliant and unexpected plot twist, with the 18th-century nobleman having a "morning-after" encounter with his modern-day counterpart, Vincent. Ultimately, Slowness is about the modern desire to experience life quickly without the benefit of reflection. Kundera equates slowness to pleasure and remembering, and speed to vulgarity, forgetting, and failure. Slowness reveals Kundera's brilliant mind at work, and as its title suggests, Kundera's short novel is meant to be savored slowly.

G. Merritt

Let this be only the first of Kundera's books you read. It was my first, and now I've read everything of his that has been translated into English and if there's more I'm willing to learn another language to get to it. This book is humorous, but that is the least of it. I've never read an author with such perception, such a wily mind. It's impossible to get his characters or their lives out of your mind. Reading Kundera makes life, other people, and the whole world make more sense. And less sense, at the same time.

Those familiar with Kundera's "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" may find "Slowness" a bit of a leisurely letdown, and yet, like its more prominent predecessor, it is also an intriguing exploration of sexual relationships, but told this time more from those aspects of pleasure. Kundera's first novel written in his second language, French, "Slowness" pays homage to a classic like "Les Liasons Dangeureuses" in its elegant depiction of 18th Century French sexuality, but also has more than a nod or two to current Czech and French history. Miraculously, Kundera manages to keep these seemingly disparate storylines intact up to a most improbable conclusion that - for want of a better term - ends as some sort of dream-like fantasy. Much to his credit, Kundera excels in his depiction of slight details which render both tales rather realistic in their depictions of relationships, but readers may wonder whether Kundera has focused too much on such depiction while forsaking the establishment of meaningful plots. Still, I found much to behold in Kundera's translated prose, and recognize that it is still a very important book in his entire oeuvre.

I struggled to give this book 4 Stars. I rather feel like 3, but that would put it in the league of far less intelligent books. Slowness is a very inspiring reflection on speed and memory, lust and enjoyment, truth and fiction, individuality and acting. It is also an ironic commentary on today's intellectuals and the media. And it is a story about love and eroticism. Maybe that's the problem with this book: It is too much that Kundera tried to convey in just about 150 pages. If you read closely, you get the point, but whereas Kundera preaches slowness and enjoyment, he practices speed and overload. His style is usually witty, sparkling, elegant and yet full of meaning - elements that are also occasionally present in Slowness. But here they have a hard time to stand out between passages of smart-aleck feuilettonism and the unconvincing attempt to be erotic, provocative and psychoanalytic simultaneously (it rather comes off as quite funny but both pretentious and vulgar at the same time). Even Kundera's usually refreshing experiments with form and style seem somewhat contrived. This book is still a notworthy read - philosophically inspiring, frequently quite funny and definitely original - but it's well below the esprit and stylistic brilliance of Immortality or Unberable Lightness of Being.

Ironically, Slowness is a brisk read. The book is 156 pages long, and it could easily be read in one or two sittings. I, however, took my time, impelled, in part, by the theme of the book-slowwwnesss. And yes, the book can be enjoyed at a slow pace-that is until you hit the latter 100 pages, when the plot turns into a farce, and the prose reads so easily, so joyfully really, that you cannot help but finish quickly.

As always with Kundera novels many specific lines struck me, and I commemorated them with dog-eared pages. One quote seemed to be lifted from another Kundera novel, Immortality. In Slowness Kundera writes, "...beyond their practical function, all gestures have a meaning that exceeds the intention of those who make them. When people in bathing suits fling themselves into the water, it is joy itself that shows in the gesture, notwithstanding any sadness the divers may actually feel."

Kundera is talking abut Immaculata, a character who has just jumped into a pool fully clothed, but he could just as easily be talking about Agnes, the heroine of Immortality: "the essence of her charm, revealed itself for a second in that gesture and dazzled me."

Reading Immortality, you sense Kundera's compassion for Agnes; reading Slowness, with Immaculata, and the various other characters, you sense Kundera's contempt (although this may be too strong a word: in Kundera's terms, most of the characters here aren't even deserving of contempt.)

But Kundera does show compassion for several characters from an 18th century novel, characters who seem to embody the ancient idea of slowness-an idea all but lost to the modern characters of Slowness, all of who seem to be caught up in various fiascos. (These fiascos culminate in a ridiculous scene at the side of a swimming pool in a château.)

I read the book during the course of several mornings, and then I finished the last 100 pages in one sitting, in the evening. It is a good book for Kundera fans, although I am not sure I can agree with the critics line, quoted on the front cover of the book: "audacity, wit, and sheer brilliance." What does Kundera have to do to earn some mediocre praise?