During the Cold War, a Prague surgeon meets a waitress and spends a night with her. A lifelong relationship begins, although the two protagonists could not be more different in their views on love. In a subplot we also follow one of the surgeon’s mistresses, who is a successful painter, and her married lover, a Swiss university professor. The historical background is shaped by the Prague Spring and the following invasion of the ČSSR by the armies of the Soviet Union and other Warsaw Pact countries.
This has to be one of the most unusual romances ever committed to paper, because the flaws of the two people in it are so glaring and their motivations so different that the relationship could easily appear to be misguided. However, on the contrary, it’s highly realistic and the reasons for their staying together are soundly elaborated. Kundera in general dives deep into the psyches of his protagonists and makes them almost unbearably human, especially in his portrayal of their shortcomings.
Also remarkable is the philosophical groundwork he equips the story with. Amongst others he makes use of Nietzsche’s concept of the eternal recurrence, Parmenides’ ideas on the nature of the cosmos, and Descartes’ view of animals as machinae animatae. While that makes it sound like it’s a demanding read, it’s really not, because Kundera integrates them so perfectly that they don’t hinder the flow at all but instead enrich the story immensely and provide it with additional layers. He also employs a very fine and sometimes surreal brand of humour, that adds some levity when needed. The most extraordinary part in this context links the death of Stalin’s son, God and faeces, which is hilarious in a rather disturbing way.
There is a wealth of other topics this book touches on: for instance art in a repressive society, or political activism and the personal sacrifices it can demand, but also relationships, not only between lovers, but between parents and their children, and, last but not least, the question whether that which weighs us down is not that which brings us bliss. It’s an enjoyable read, but one that reaches deep and makes you think.