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balise's review against another edition
4.0
The story takes place mostly in Prague in the 60s/70s, and obviously the communist background is very present.
It's in my category of "book with people in it" - Tomas, a surgeon and womanizer, Tereza, his wife, Sabina, his mistress, Franz, Sabina's lover - to whom I'll add the narrator, who "interrupts" the story on a fairly regular basis to give more explanations or to get into philosophical digressions/discussions.
It's also one of these books that you finish with a kind of urgency, because you know from the first pages that you want to re-read it taking your time, soon. (But you still want to know the story before you do that.)
And maybe the fact that I don't have much to say about it is of the same order that silence following great music is still music.
It's in my category of "book with people in it" - Tomas, a surgeon and womanizer, Tereza, his wife, Sabina, his mistress, Franz, Sabina's lover - to whom I'll add the narrator, who "interrupts" the story on a fairly regular basis to give more explanations or to get into philosophical digressions/discussions.
It's also one of these books that you finish with a kind of urgency, because you know from the first pages that you want to re-read it taking your time, soon. (But you still want to know the story before you do that.)
And maybe the fact that I don't have much to say about it is of the same order that silence following great music is still music.
boelty's review against another edition
4.0
A reread 27 years later. I enjoyed it so much more this time around.
mabad83's review against another edition
4.0
More like 3.5
Beautifully written, thought-provoking novel. I listened to the book and found it hard to follow. I imagine it's better to read it in written form. The book moves between different time periods and the detail in the mundane is what makes the novel captivating and worth chewing on. For those interested, be ready to reflect and pay close attention to the relationship between choice, forms of love, sense of self, and the politically tense historical time frame in which the story takes place.
Beautifully written, thought-provoking novel. I listened to the book and found it hard to follow. I imagine it's better to read it in written form. The book moves between different time periods and the detail in the mundane is what makes the novel captivating and worth chewing on. For those interested, be ready to reflect and pay close attention to the relationship between choice, forms of love, sense of self, and the politically tense historical time frame in which the story takes place.
jprendy's review against another edition
5.0
Found this book while I was in rehab and had a whale of a time with it.
boredinlife's review against another edition
reflective
relaxing
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
3.5
zamackic's review against another edition
2.0
Meh. I read it as a recommendation, and then could not get what the person liked in the book. I thought that the female character is so badly executed, but I guess that came from the Author's own experience with his society.
squid_vicious's review against another edition
5.0
While I read this book, I felt a small smile tug at the side of my mouth. It reminded me of a time in my life that almost feels like a past life now, even if it was only a few years ago.
This novel is very insightful, very lofty. The tone is elegant, melancholy and superlative. I can see why some people would find it grating: the characters are not particularly likable, the title alone is pretty pompous, not to mention some of the philosophical rambling interjected here and there through the plot. I’d lie if I said taking it out of my purse to read on the metro didn’t make me feel terribly bourgeois-bohème.
But the prose is ethereally beautiful, which is impressive when you strip all the intellectual pretenses away and face up to the fact that this is a book about sex. Sex in many different contexts, for many different reasons, as a way to express many different feelings. What Kundera does is explore the causes and consequences of all this nooky, from the point of view of his four main characters. As such, this book is almost more of a philosophical character study than anything else. And yes, you could aptly retitle it “Unbearable Douchewaffle Rationale for being a Prick”. I had a philosophy professor in college who spent an entire semester trying to convince us that the concept of love was illusory and that it was just a social construct we wrap around sex to make it more manageable and make people easier to control (that professor also had a reputation for sleeping with his students… shocking no one ever). I’m now thinking that “The Unbearable Lightness of Being” might have been his favorite book, even if we never studied it in class.
This is the story, told in alternate points of view, of Tomas (womanizing surgeon), Tereza (his waitress/political photographer wife), Sabina (his artist mistress) and Franz (Sabina’s post-exile lover), on the cusp of the Soviet invasion of Prague. I love multiple POVs, especially when the subject at hand is relationships, because we all perceive things so differently, and it’s a great exercise to remind ourselves of the many different ways some events, gestures and words can be understood by other people. The third-person narration is often interrupted with philosophical discourse and commentary on our four characters’ behaviours, as well as background stories that flesh out not only the story, but also makes their actions more understandable. I also loved the non-linear narrative, weaving back and forth through the story.
These are four damaged people and I don’t really condone anything these characters do. I turned out to be more traditional than expected in my old age I guess, and I happen to believe that relationships should be based in sincere communication and trust. So lying, cheating and expecting your partner to read your mind because you are sending them symbolic cues about how you feel… not really the way I’d handle it… But hey, different time, different place! Soviet-occupied Prague in the 60’s might not have been the best place in world to play a game with your cards face up, whether that was in regards to your politics or people you shared your bed with.
But that doesn’t make this novel any less extraordinary. It is hard for me to put my finger on exactly what makes this book so good, but it simply is. It’s lyrical, ambiguous and evocative. I never agreed with the characters, but I ached along with them anyway. It seemed obvious to me right off the bat that none of this would end well, but I kept wishing these people would glue their shattered pieces back together… I’m still not sure what exactly I am supposed to have gotten out of this book, but I can now see how huge an influence it was on other writers in terms of style.
The character of Tomas reminds me very vividly of a charming, charismatic man I used to know, who just like Tomas, spent a great deal of time rationalizing his terror of commitment and his urge to womanize by giving grandiloquent speeches about philosophy and freedom. And for a while, playing at being his Sabina was fine by me. There was a certain thrill in being a part of his life, even if it was only peripherally. Eventually, it lost its glamour and I moved on, but it was fun while it lasted. He occasionally pops up on my Facebook and Instagram feed, still up to his old tricks. I don’t miss him, but it makes me smile to remember the kind of madness I was once willing to put up with…
I was also reminded, while reading Tereza’s side of the story, of what it is like dealing with a toxic parent, and how complex and damaging such a relationship can be. While I find her to be a bit of a doormat, I understood where Tereza came from and why she behaved the way she did; if I had been as lonely and isolated as she was, I might have ended up just like her…
The idea of detachment and the bohemian carefree lifestyle as being “unbearable” is something I pondered very hard as I was reading this book. In my (not so) misspent youth, this was the sort of lifestyle I idealized: I had no example of happy, successful, stable relationships around in my formative years, to the point where the traditional couple seemed like an unsustainable model to my rather radical eyes. But the unattached way gave me no lasting satisfaction: it felt so fleeting and superficial. Surrounded as I was, at the time, by artists and musicians, I felt almost guilty for having that craving for deeper connections and stronger commitments. The “lightness”, as in the not being tied-down, was unbearable. And when I eventually met someone with whom I instantly felt at home, the “weight” of that commitment was nothing at all.
It is probably a good thing I read this book now, and not when I was 21… That being said, it is quite simply beautiful: I loved it, will definitely re-read it and recommend it enthusiastically.
This novel is very insightful, very lofty. The tone is elegant, melancholy and superlative. I can see why some people would find it grating: the characters are not particularly likable, the title alone is pretty pompous, not to mention some of the philosophical rambling interjected here and there through the plot. I’d lie if I said taking it out of my purse to read on the metro didn’t make me feel terribly bourgeois-bohème.
But the prose is ethereally beautiful, which is impressive when you strip all the intellectual pretenses away and face up to the fact that this is a book about sex. Sex in many different contexts, for many different reasons, as a way to express many different feelings. What Kundera does is explore the causes and consequences of all this nooky, from the point of view of his four main characters. As such, this book is almost more of a philosophical character study than anything else. And yes, you could aptly retitle it “Unbearable Douchewaffle Rationale for being a Prick”. I had a philosophy professor in college who spent an entire semester trying to convince us that the concept of love was illusory and that it was just a social construct we wrap around sex to make it more manageable and make people easier to control (that professor also had a reputation for sleeping with his students… shocking no one ever). I’m now thinking that “The Unbearable Lightness of Being” might have been his favorite book, even if we never studied it in class.
This is the story, told in alternate points of view, of Tomas (womanizing surgeon), Tereza (his waitress/political photographer wife), Sabina (his artist mistress) and Franz (Sabina’s post-exile lover), on the cusp of the Soviet invasion of Prague. I love multiple POVs, especially when the subject at hand is relationships, because we all perceive things so differently, and it’s a great exercise to remind ourselves of the many different ways some events, gestures and words can be understood by other people. The third-person narration is often interrupted with philosophical discourse and commentary on our four characters’ behaviours, as well as background stories that flesh out not only the story, but also makes their actions more understandable. I also loved the non-linear narrative, weaving back and forth through the story.
These are four damaged people and I don’t really condone anything these characters do. I turned out to be more traditional than expected in my old age I guess, and I happen to believe that relationships should be based in sincere communication and trust. So lying, cheating and expecting your partner to read your mind because you are sending them symbolic cues about how you feel… not really the way I’d handle it… But hey, different time, different place! Soviet-occupied Prague in the 60’s might not have been the best place in world to play a game with your cards face up, whether that was in regards to your politics or people you shared your bed with.
But that doesn’t make this novel any less extraordinary. It is hard for me to put my finger on exactly what makes this book so good, but it simply is. It’s lyrical, ambiguous and evocative. I never agreed with the characters, but I ached along with them anyway. It seemed obvious to me right off the bat that none of this would end well, but I kept wishing these people would glue their shattered pieces back together… I’m still not sure what exactly I am supposed to have gotten out of this book, but I can now see how huge an influence it was on other writers in terms of style.
The character of Tomas reminds me very vividly of a charming, charismatic man I used to know, who just like Tomas, spent a great deal of time rationalizing his terror of commitment and his urge to womanize by giving grandiloquent speeches about philosophy and freedom. And for a while, playing at being his Sabina was fine by me. There was a certain thrill in being a part of his life, even if it was only peripherally. Eventually, it lost its glamour and I moved on, but it was fun while it lasted. He occasionally pops up on my Facebook and Instagram feed, still up to his old tricks. I don’t miss him, but it makes me smile to remember the kind of madness I was once willing to put up with…
I was also reminded, while reading Tereza’s side of the story, of what it is like dealing with a toxic parent, and how complex and damaging such a relationship can be. While I find her to be a bit of a doormat, I understood where Tereza came from and why she behaved the way she did; if I had been as lonely and isolated as she was, I might have ended up just like her…
The idea of detachment and the bohemian carefree lifestyle as being “unbearable” is something I pondered very hard as I was reading this book. In my (not so) misspent youth, this was the sort of lifestyle I idealized: I had no example of happy, successful, stable relationships around in my formative years, to the point where the traditional couple seemed like an unsustainable model to my rather radical eyes. But the unattached way gave me no lasting satisfaction: it felt so fleeting and superficial. Surrounded as I was, at the time, by artists and musicians, I felt almost guilty for having that craving for deeper connections and stronger commitments. The “lightness”, as in the not being tied-down, was unbearable. And when I eventually met someone with whom I instantly felt at home, the “weight” of that commitment was nothing at all.
It is probably a good thing I read this book now, and not when I was 21… That being said, it is quite simply beautiful: I loved it, will definitely re-read it and recommend it enthusiastically.
ashleyehooker's review against another edition
4.0
Absolutely incredibly written. I wanted to re-read sentences and had trouble moving forward because certain passages were so poignant. Each chapter had a spot that I wanted to rip out and put in my pocket simply because the words came together so beautifully. I will admit, the plot itself lacked a little something for me. I think because many of the characters are a bit unlikable or maybe just the landscape and time is not something I know much about in history. Worth a read though simply for the writing alone.
pris_asagiri's review against another edition
5.0
Beautifully written--poetic, lyrical, with simple eloquence--and I read the translation. I cannot imagine how powerful it is in the native Czech.
Powerful and politically relevant for today's world. Not just in government politics, but gender and race. So much can be applied to the issues of today.
And for all its talk about sex and infidelity and betrayal, it was poignant and sweet and tender.
Not for the unenlightened and faint of heart. A lot of people won't be able to get past the frank talk of sex, sh*t, and menstruation. But if you can, you will find a beautiful story about what it is to be human.
And it had a happy ending:
"She was experiencing the same odd happiness and odd sadness as then. The sadness meant: we are at the last station. The happiness meant: we are together. The sadness was form, the happiness content. Happiness filled the space of sadness.
Powerful and politically relevant for today's world. Not just in government politics, but gender and race. So much can be applied to the issues of today.
And for all its talk about sex and infidelity and betrayal, it was poignant and sweet and tender.
Not for the unenlightened and faint of heart. A lot of people won't be able to get past the frank talk of sex, sh*t, and menstruation. But if you can, you will find a beautiful story about what it is to be human.
And it had a happy ending:
"She was experiencing the same odd happiness and odd sadness as then. The sadness meant: we are at the last station. The happiness meant: we are together. The sadness was form, the happiness content. Happiness filled the space of sadness.
bryanltimms's review against another edition
5.0
Rereading this novel again in 2015. Still thought provoking. Perhaps moreso as I understand more than I did in 1997.