(From my tribute to Kundera on FB)
Milan Kundera, a Czech novelist, died on Tuesday, 11th July at 94. For me, it is rather personal.
Years ago, I was a participant in a television quiz where apart from general awareness, we had a subject round where we could choose our own topic. I had stumbled into a review of ‘The Unbearable Lightness of Being’ by Kundera in the now defunct Gentleman magazine and then went on to read the book. It was exhilarating.
Over a period of time, I bought a few of his other works. I found his ability to distil profound truths of life through a mix of levity, seriousness, stories of resistance against the repression of the communist regimes in Eastern Europe and also hedonism beguiling. A few stayed with me.
One I always think about is that life moves like the hands of a clock, in a pattern and always repeating the same thematic cycles. I have found this to be so true for myself - it has been chronologically linear but cyclical in so many other ways.
His characters approached the absurdity of existence and an intense desire to experience life in the same breath. They lived and talked as of they were faintly bemused but still flying over all that life threw at them.
Here is an excerpt from ‘The Unbearable Lightness of Being’:
“People usually escape from their troubles into the future; they draw an imaginary line across the path of time, a line beyond which their current troubles will cease to exist. But Tereza saw no such line in her future. Only looking back could bring her consolation. It was Sunday again. They got into the car and drove far beyond the limits of Prague.”
Having told the organisers that my topic would be ‘Works of Milan Kundera’, I discovered that I did not have his entire collection. In those Pre Amazon days, I started scouring all the bookshops in a few cities both personally and through friends. Usually, a lone Kundera would be lying on the shelves and a couple of his works were not easily available. The search however eventually yielded fruit and I managed to get all the missing books in my collection barring one. But in the months after the quiz, I always noticed the same shelves with many Kunderas. Did I play a part in building up that demand? I would fancy so (chuckle).
Kundera lived in Prague and then migrated to Paris. The first one full of both gorgeous architecture and the tragedy of lives and potential snuffed out by a draconian state. And in Paris, one can always sense the existentialism of Sartre, along with a celebration of life through its museums and grand boulevards. Kundera was both - Prague and Paris.
He was also a perennial Nobel contender but somehow did not get it. To me however, though lesser known, he is there with some of the finest: Mahfouz, Barnes, Coetzee or Munro if not Marquez and Camus.
Milan Kundera: April 1, 1929, to 11 July, 2023.
Milan Kundera, a Czech novelist, died on Tuesday, 11th July at 94. For me, it is rather personal.
Years ago, I was a participant in a television quiz where apart from general awareness, we had a subject round where we could choose our own topic. I had stumbled into a review of ‘The Unbearable Lightness of Being’ by Kundera in the now defunct Gentleman magazine and then went on to read the book. It was exhilarating.
Over a period of time, I bought a few of his other works. I found his ability to distil profound truths of life through a mix of levity, seriousness, stories of resistance against the repression of the communist regimes in Eastern Europe and also hedonism beguiling. A few stayed with me.
One I always think about is that life moves like the hands of a clock, in a pattern and always repeating the same thematic cycles. I have found this to be so true for myself - it has been chronologically linear but cyclical in so many other ways.
His characters approached the absurdity of existence and an intense desire to experience life in the same breath. They lived and talked as of they were faintly bemused but still flying over all that life threw at them.
Here is an excerpt from ‘The Unbearable Lightness of Being’:
“People usually escape from their troubles into the future; they draw an imaginary line across the path of time, a line beyond which their current troubles will cease to exist. But Tereza saw no such line in her future. Only looking back could bring her consolation. It was Sunday again. They got into the car and drove far beyond the limits of Prague.”
Having told the organisers that my topic would be ‘Works of Milan Kundera’, I discovered that I did not have his entire collection. In those Pre Amazon days, I started scouring all the bookshops in a few cities both personally and through friends. Usually, a lone Kundera would be lying on the shelves and a couple of his works were not easily available. The search however eventually yielded fruit and I managed to get all the missing books in my collection barring one. But in the months after the quiz, I always noticed the same shelves with many Kunderas. Did I play a part in building up that demand? I would fancy so (chuckle).
Kundera lived in Prague and then migrated to Paris. The first one full of both gorgeous architecture and the tragedy of lives and potential snuffed out by a draconian state. And in Paris, one can always sense the existentialism of Sartre, along with a celebration of life through its museums and grand boulevards. Kundera was both - Prague and Paris.
He was also a perennial Nobel contender but somehow did not get it. To me however, though lesser known, he is there with some of the finest: Mahfouz, Barnes, Coetzee or Munro if not Marquez and Camus.
Milan Kundera: April 1, 1929, to 11 July, 2023.
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