The Book of Laughter and Forgetting (Czech: Kniha smíchu a zapomnění) is a novel by Milan Kundera, published in France in 1979. It is composed of seven separate narratives united by some common themes. The book considers the nature of forgetting as it occurs in history, politics and life in general. The stories also contain elements found in the genre of magic realism.
It definitely had it's good moments. And it definitely had it's OMG-WTF moments. Was that because of the timeframe it was written? Cultural differences? I'm not sure, but man it probably wouldn't be published today. It was good to read something so different than a Western novel, but overall I didn't think it was great.
That Kundera is a master wordsmith makes itself amply clear in the pages of this book. Beautiful prose, twisting, coiling, shimmering, leaping out at the reader, draws one into the philosophical depths of this tome. The backdrop for this book is the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, and the enforced exodus of Czech intelligentsia. 'Laughter' and 'forgetting' are explored as themes through a protagonist who flits through seven loosely interconnected stories. What can one do, really, as one's nation crumbles before one's eyes, as the death of a nation looms on a nearby horizon, but to laugh, and to forget?
"The first step in liquidating a people", said Hubl, "is to erase its memory. Destroy its books, its culture, its history. Then have somebody write new books, manufacture a new culture, invent a new history. Before long the nation will begin to forget what it is and what it was. …
That Kundera is a master wordsmith makes itself amply clear in the pages of this book. Beautiful prose, twisting, coiling, shimmering, leaping out at the reader, draws one into the philosophical depths of this tome. The backdrop for this book is the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, and the enforced exodus of Czech intelligentsia. 'Laughter' and 'forgetting' are explored as themes through a protagonist who flits through seven loosely interconnected stories. What can one do, really, as one's nation crumbles before one's eyes, as the death of a nation looms on a nearby horizon, but to laugh, and to forget?
"The first step in liquidating a people", said Hubl, "is to erase its memory. Destroy its books, its culture, its history. Then have somebody write new books, manufacture a new culture, invent a new history. Before long the nation will begin to forget what it is and what it was. The world around it will forget even faster."
"What about language?"
"Why would anyone bother to take it from us? It will soon be a matter of folklore and die a natural death."
Was that hyperbole dictated by utter despair?
Or is it true that a nation cannot cross a desert of organized forgetting?"
While style, motifs, repetition and the thematic organization of this book are amazing, it remains hard to overlook - or actually, to not throw up a little - how Kundera writes about women, how he describes them and their bodies (always their bodies). How he writes about the objectifying male gazes and their desire for rape. Whether he's a misogynist or ''just'' writing from a perspective of androcentrism. See also: www.theguardian.com/books/2015/may/22/milan-kundera-immortality-jonathan-coe-novels-women
It seems important now, as my country slides into totalitarianism, to read more Central European writers. There's a certain curious soothing element common to their voices: Havel's dignity, Sruoga's levity, Kundera's... what? Detachment? Aloofness? It's hard to know how to interpret this book. Kundera spotlights the absurd ways we try, and so catastrophically fail, to connect with others or even our own selves. I found myself wondering if I'd misread the title, if it should be Loneliness and Forgetting, except none of the characters ever seem to realize how lonely they are. As we expect from Kundera, much of the attempted connection is through sex but here, in addition to sensuality, there are elements of the grotesque: Kundera shows the physical act, bared of intimacy, as both comic and repulsive.
I loved the writing. Loved his insights into our primal need to be seen. Did not like any of the …
It seems important now, as my country slides into totalitarianism, to read more Central European writers. There's a certain curious soothing element common to their voices: Havel's dignity, Sruoga's levity, Kundera's... what? Detachment? Aloofness? It's hard to know how to interpret this book. Kundera spotlights the absurd ways we try, and so catastrophically fail, to connect with others or even our own selves. I found myself wondering if I'd misread the title, if it should be Loneliness and Forgetting, except none of the characters ever seem to realize how lonely they are. As we expect from Kundera, much of the attempted connection is through sex but here, in addition to sensuality, there are elements of the grotesque: Kundera shows the physical act, bared of intimacy, as both comic and repulsive.
I loved the writing. Loved his insights into our primal need to be seen. Did not like any of the characters, but that's because I recognized parts of myself in each of them, and that's his point, isn't it?
