Reviews for The Unbearable Lightness of Being: A Novel

The average rating for The Unbearable Lightness of Being: A Novel based on 2 reviews is 4.5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2008-12-17 00:00:00 Daniel Garza I was hesitant to start this, and figured for awhile that it would be one of those books that maybe I'd get around to or maybe I wouldn't. It just didn't seem like something I'd enjoy - it seemed too soft, or too postmodern, or too feel-good, or too based in hedonism, or too surface oriented. What caused me to give it a shot was the simple fact that I'll be traveling to Prague in a few weeks, and since the book's setting takes place there, I figured it may put me in the mood for the trip. I figured it was "now or never" in regards to reading it. And yet, even with that being the case, I hesitated a bit. That is, until the mere mentioning it received an almost overzealously positive response from two close friends (whose opinions I hold in high regard). Their response was so enthusiastic that I was pushed over the edge; shoved into thinking that the novel's chances of being lame had been lessened, and that it would be worth the trial. And I'm glad I decided to give this book a shot. Damn glad. The novel traces the lives of two couples during the Soviet occupation of Prague, during the late 1960's. The novel deep-heartedly charts their struggles against communism, their pasts, their lovers, and themselves. Kundera observes the stuff that goes on internally amongst the characters; he intellectualizes it, and tells you about it. He's quite philosophical, and you feel like the narrator is talking to you, offering very insightful observations about the characters and life in general. This is one reason why reading is often more valuable than watching TV or a movie: when reading a good book you get direct psychological explanations, and you get to go inside the heads of characters. Taken as a whole, I found this novel to be profound, but in unusual ways. It's not a direct novel, but rather one that represents, and lets one feel, disconnections and various glimpses of perceptions. And it wasn't a smooth novel, either. It even felt choppy on occasion. But the chapters are short, which fits its feel, and also gives you time to think about the penetrating thoughts that Kundera puts across. Kundera strikes me as a craftsman of sorts. He switches timelines deftly and effectively - even when I thought he was crazy to do so; when I thought he gave up the climax of the novel towards its middle, he proved me dead wrong. He proved to me that he knew exactly what he was doing because he's a master of the craft. This novel is not full of sweeping, pounding paragraphs of poignant, soul-hitting, philosophical depth, but rather offers up constant glimpses; nuggets of insightful observations on almost every page, that when added up together, reveal an impressive, heartfelt, and real work. I love the way this novel portrays love. It recognizes and represents its beauty while at the same time showing how psychological and manipulatable it can be. The loves in this novel are accurate ones, not at all cheapened by gimmicky slogans or conventional lines. "The dance seemed to him a declaration that her devotion, her ardent desire to satisfy his every whim, was not necessarily bound to his person, that if she hadn't met Tomas, she would have been ready to respond to the call of any other man she might have met instead." Kundera brilliantly portrays how simple things like our past, our country, images, family - even metaphors, can affect our psyche and major life decisions. "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." Its fragility and delicacy: "What would happen if Tomas were to receive such a picture? Would he throw her out? Perhaps not. Probably not. But the fragile edifice of their love would certainly come tumbling down. For that edifice rested on the single column of her fidelity, and loves are like empires: when the idea they are founded on crumbles, they, too, fade away." "Perhaps if they had stayed together longer, Sabina and Franz would have begun to understand the words they used. Gradually, timorously, their vocabularies would have come together, like bashful lovers, and the music of one would have begun to intersect with the music of the other. But it was too late now." Sometimes even one sentence can say a lot: "Looking out over the courtyard at the dirty walls, he realized he had no idea whether it was hysteria or love." "While people are fairly young and the musical composition of their lives is still in its opening bars, they can go about writing it together and exchange motifs (the way Tomas and Sabina exchanged the motif of the bowler hat), but if they meet when they are older, like Franz and Sabina, their musical compositions are more or less complete, and every motif, every object, every word means something different to each of them." And it's worth reiterating that the philosophical ideas in this novel are very thought provoking: "Tomas thought: Attaching love to sex is one of the most bizarre ideas the Creator ever had." The importance of our decisions. The lack of importance of our decisions. The unavoidable importance of life. The unavoidable lack of importance of life. That's how this novel feels. If I'm to give a book five stars, it needs to affect me in some profound ways -- it needs to change me, at least a little. This novel has affected my view of life; how I see the world. Specifically, it's helped me better understand beauty. I have trouble elaborating on that because beauty is such an abstract concept; you know it when you see it, or rather' you know it when you feel it. Beauty has some melancholy; it is appreciative -- special but fleeting -- and never fully absorbed as its full whole. Maybe that's a major aspect of beauty -- knowing it is beyond your grasp. Beyond you. Life is ultimately a crapshoot. You don't know what's going to happen. You might as well hang on to something. And that something might as well be love -- whether it be plutonic, romantic, or, if you're lucky, both. And if that's what you're going to hang on to (and you are), then you might as well understand its simplicity and its complexity, and its beauty -- you might as well understand and appreciate as much of it as you can. It only makes sense that you do. This novel can help you do that.

Review # 2 was written on 2016-11-02 00:00:00 Foster Parriott 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