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‘Pierre and Jean’ by Guy de Maupassant

Pierre and Jean was Maupassant’s fourth novel and was originally published in 1888. It’s a short novel, running to only about 130 pages in my edition, but Maupassant, well used to short-stories, doesn’t hang about and gets the story moving from page 1.

It begins on a boat; Gérôme Roland is fishing and he is accompanied by his wife, Louise, their two sons, Pierre and Jean, and the young attractive widow Mme Rosémilly. M. Roland is a retired jeweller from Paris who decided to move to Le Havre once he had made enough money. Pierre the older son had tried various professions but has recently qualified as a doctor, while the younger son, Jean, who is more diligent has recently passed his diploma in law. Both brothers are looking to set themselves up in business in Le Havre. There is an element of competition between the brothers and both have an eye for Mme Rosémilly.

When they return from their boating expedition the servant informs M. Roland that his lawyer, M. Lecanu, wishes to speak to him urgently. It turns out that an old friend of the family from their Parisian days, M. Maréchal, has recently died and left his inheritance to Jean, whom he thinks is worthy of this legacy. Everyone is shocked but overjoyed, and of course a little sad of the death of their friend whom they had nearly forgotten about. But why does he only leave the money to Jean, and not also Pierre? M. Roland argues that it was because Maréchal was present at the birth of Roland’s second son.

Both Jean and Pierre are a little dazed by the events and both go out separately for a walk. Pierre is out of sorts and wonders if he is jealous of Jean. He admits he is a little jealous but won’t let that stop loving his brother. When Pierre goes to visit a friend of his and recounts the day’s news the friend says, without elaborating further, “That won’t look good”, but Pierre has no idea why he says that. Later, when talking to a barmaid about the inheritance she innocently mentions that it’s no wonder that Jean looks nothing like Pierre. It’s a little later that he realises what these comments mean; that Maréchal must have left the money to Jean because Jean was Maréchal’s son, which also means that Pierre’s beloved mother must have had an affair behind his father’s back. Now the seed has been sown in Pierre’s mind he keeps thinking and thinking, digging deeper and deeper. He tries to remember Maréchal from his youth and remembers a photograph of him that used to be in the house. Pierre wonders what he should do, after all at this stage they are only suspicions, but even if they were untrue it could easily lead to gossip and be a threat to his mother’s honour. But Pierre is unable to tell Jean his suspicions as the others are all celebrating their good fortune. Instead, Pierre tries to find out more about Maréchal from his parents.

    He kept on saying to himself: ‘Why has this Maréchal left all his money to Jean?’
     It was no longer jealousy that made him seek an answer, not the rather unworthy but natural envy he knew was hidden inside him and that he had been fighting against for three days, but terror of an appalling thing, terror of believing that his brother Jean was the son of this man!

But poor Pierre doesn’t know what to think; if it’s true then it means that his beloved mother had an affair. But he soon admits that it could be true.

    Certainly she might have loved just like any other woman. For why should she be different from any other even though she was his mother?

So, I wondered at this stage of the novel how a typical nineteenth century writer may have ended it: the mother may die of guilt and shame; the brothers may have fought over Pierre’s suspicions with one or the other dying or living their life in poverty; Pierre may have convinced Jean to give up the inheritance to protect their mother’s reputation, etc. etc. None of these are correct. I shall reveal the ending in what follows so you may wish to stop reading at this point if you don’t want to know the ending. Instead, after seeing the picture of Maréchal, Pierre is convinced that Jean is Maréchal’s son and finally confronts Jean with this information. Pierre has become increasingly irritable over the last few weeks and by now Pierre suspects that his mother knows of his suspicions. Jean thinks Pierre is just jealous of him, especially as he’s just announced his marriage to Mme Rosémilly. But Pierre unburdens himself and when he’s finished he leaves. The story up to now has been from Pierre’s viewpoint but it now cleverly switches to Jean’s viewpoint. Jean quietly tries to process the information and then goes to his mother, who was in the next room when Pierre blurted everything out, and asks her if were true. When she acknowledges that it is true she is prepared to depart from his life forever, however, Jean is having none of it and offers her love and protection.

Alone, Jean thinks about the events of the night and what needs to be done:

If he had learned the secret of his birth in any other way he would certainly have been outraged and felt a deep resentment, but after his quarrel with his brother, after this violent and brutal accusation which had shaken his nerves, the heartbreaking emotion of his mother’s confession took away all his energy to revolt. The shock to his feelings had been violent enough to sweep away all the prejudices and pious susceptibilties of natural morality on an irresistible wave of emotion.

He contemplates giving up the inheritance but reasons that he can no longer claim any inheritance from M. Roland as that is Pierre’s by right so then the inheritance from Maréchal is then his by right. The next day Jean arranges, with Pierre’s acceptance, to organise a doctor’s position on a cruise ship for Pierre. Pierre is quite happy to go as he’s now guilty about blurting out his suspicions to Jean and it will give him an income for a while as well as some time to think. M. Roland meanwhile is totally oblivious to everything that’s going on around him.

Pierre is not sure what his mother told Jean but seems happy enough to allow everything to carry on as normal. It’s funny how Maupassant subverts the nineteenth century novel with Pierre, the legitimate son, having to make way for Jean, the illegitimate son and it’s odd how no-one in the novel thought that splitting the inheritance between Pierre and Jean was a viable solution.

This was cross-posted on the Marvellous Maupassant blog.

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‘Fat City’ by Leonard Gardner

gardner_fat-cityFat City was first published in 1969 and is the only novel by Leonard Gardner. It has recently been republished by New York Review of Books in the U.S. and by Pushkin Press in the U.K. It was made into a film in 1972 which was directed by John Huston and starred Stacy Keach & Jeff Bridges; the screenplay was written by Leonard Gardner himself. I saw the film years ago and though I liked it I remember being a little underwhelmed by it. I would like to watch the film again to see what I make of it now but seeing that the book was published in January this year by Pushkin Press I thought I’d read it as part of Stu’s Pushkin Press Fortnight. It gets labeled as a ‘boxing novel’ which could be enough to put me off a book but it’s not about boxing but about the boxers themselves.

The novel takes place mostly in Stockton, California; I’m not sure about the time period but the Wikipedia article suggest the late ’50s; in a way it doesn’t really matter too much as it’s all quite timeless which is something that I like about a lot of good American literature. The two main characters are Billy Tully, a man nearing his thirtieth birthday, whose wife left him a few years before and with whom he is still in love and Ernie Munger, a young kid who works at a late night petrol station. Tully hasn’t boxed for years but is looking to get back into it while Munger is a young kid just starting out. Tully is not only past his prime but he has a drink problem as well. His life consists of low-wage jobs, cheap bars and cheap hotels. But he’s trying to get back into boxing as he believes he still has a few good years in him and so he heads to a gym to have a workout and meets the eighteen year old Ernie Munger whom he spars with. Tully is impressed with Ernie and encourages him to see his old manager, Ruben, at the Lido Gym. Tully realises how out of shape he is and heads for his local bar where he meets the regulars Earl and Oma. All the main characters are introduced in this first chapter and it’s interesting how the subsequent chapters follow the individuals in their separate lives only for them to interact further on. It’s not a groundbreaking technique but it’s expertly done and suits the story that Gardner is telling.

Most of the characters are living on the edge in some way but none are completely broken and they still have dreams. Tully for example is trying to revive his boxing career, but he can’t help looking back, back to when he was with his wife and his boxing career was on the way up.

That period had been the peak of his life, though he had not realized it then. It had gone by without time for reflection, ending while he was still thinking things were going to get better. He had not realized the ability and local fame he had then was all he was going to have.

But as he tried to advance his career he found he wasn’t up to it and he began to lose bouts and then his wife. The quote continues…

Nor had his manager realized it when he moved him up to opponents of national importance. That knowledge had been mercilessly pounded into Tully in a half dozen bouts as he swung and missed and staggered, eyes closed to slits. Then he had looked to his wife for some indefinable endorsement, some solicitous comprehension of the pain and sacrifice he felt he endured for her sake, some always withheld recognition of the rites of virilty. Waiting, he drank.

When Ernie goes to the Lido Gym Ruben Luna, Tully’s old manager, is impressed with him and believes he shows promise and manages to get a bout arranged for him. Ernie starts going out with Faye Murdock and when she becomes pregnant they marry. Tully, meanwhile, is moving from hotel to hotel when he either can’t pay or just feels like moving on. He works as a fruit picker, carries on drinking heavily and training at the gym. Getting to the hotel one night at midnight with the intention of getting up at four in the morning to go to work he broods:

And was this where he was going to grow old? Would it all end in a room like this?[…]Then the abeyant melancholy of the evening came over him. He sat with his shoulders slumped under the oppression of the room, under the impasse that was himself, the utter, hopeless thwarting that was his blood and bones and flesh. Afraid of a crisis beyond his capacity, he held himself in, his body absolutely still in the passing and fading whine and rumble of a truck.

Despite the quotes used it isn’t unremittently bleak or depressing. The characters are all expertly drawn by Gardner. When Tully shacks up with Oma we can tell that they’re just going to be with each other for a short while; Oma only needs Tully whilst Earl is in prison and Tully only needs Oma to bolster his spirits for a while and besides it’s cheaper renting together. Gardner handles the fight scenes excellently; I was glad he didn’t spend too much time on the details and that he avoided making it dramatic, instead the boxing matches are quite mundane in a way. I won’t reveal much more about the story but a match is arranged for Tully, one he should win and needs to win. The novel ends rather abruptly, leaving us to wonder what would happen to both Tully and Ernie, but the ending works well as we’ve just caught sight of one character near the end of his career and another at the beginning of his. We have the sense though that Ernie’s life will be similar to Tully’s.

gardner_fat-city-nyrbAlthough I read the Pushkin Press version I don’t particularly like the cover as it seems to imply that it’s a tale of childhood, something similar to the film Cinema Paradiso, which it isn’t, it’s more along the lines of a Charles Bukowski story. I much prefer the NYRB cover with its photograph of a grim urban street with the kind of gym that I envisaged when reading the book.

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‘Narziss and Goldmund’ by Hermann Hesse

Hesse_Narziss-and-Goldmund-fcXC-700pxNarziss and Goldmund was originally published as Narziß und Goldmund in 1930. The translation I read was by Geoffrey Dunlop and was originally published in 1932 as Death and the Lover. The Penguin edition was first published in 1971.

I had a rocky ride reading this book; after about fifty pages I wanted to throw it to one side with contempt, I continued for a while then it annoyed me for another reason, but I continued, and by the time I finished it I was enjoying the story and found it difficult to see why the beginning annoyed me quite so much.

The story has a simple beginning: Narziss is a scholarly type who is well-suited to the monastic life, he’s still quite young when the story begins and is yet to take his vows. Goldmund is brought to the monastery, Mariabronn, one day by his father. Although he makes friends easily, he only becomes true friends with Narziss – opposites seem to attract.

Narziss was dark and thin of face, and Goldmund open and radiant as a flower. Narziss was a thinker and anatomiser, Goldmund a dreamer and a child. Yet things common to both could bridge these differences. Both were knightly and delicate; both set apart by visible signs from their fellows, since both had received the particular admonishment of fate.

Narziss is attracted to Goldmund’s free spirit and Goldmund idolises Narziss’s piety and scholarship. Having grown up in such an environment Goldmund feels that it is his destiny to become a monk and follow the path set out for him. But Narziss, who has an almost supernatural ability to look into people’s inner lives, tries to convince Goldmund that the monastic life is not the best course to take. Goldmund, however, continues to struggle to emulate Narziss. One night some of the boys escape to the village and Goldmund feels the pull of the world through the enticements of an attractive maid. Narziss tries to convince Goldmund that there is nothing wrong with his feelings and that he should not keep trying to be like Narziss, but should instead try to ‘know himself’. In one of their intense conversations Narziss describes the differences in their natures:

Men of dreams, the lovers and the poets, are better in most things than the men of my sort; the men of intellect. You take your being from your mothers. You live to the full: it is given you to love with your whole strength, to know and taste the whole of life. We thinkers, though often we seem to rule you, cannot live with half your joy and full reality. Ours is a thin and arid life, but the fullness of being is yours; yours the sap of the fruit, the garden of lovers, the joyous pleasaunces of beauty. Your home is the earth, ours the idea of it. Your danger is to be drowned in the world of sense, ours to gasp for breath in airless space. You are a poet, I a thinker. You sleep on your mother’s breast, I watch in the wilderness. On me there shines the sun; on you the moon with all the stars. Your dreams are all of girls, mine of boys—

This conversation affects Goldmund and he later collapses and is put to bed to recuperate. On recovering he has a vision of his mother, whom he can barely remember, and experiences feelings of agony and joy; from hereon he appears to Narziss to have found his true self. Goldmund realises that Narziss was correct in his analysis of himself and that he must escape into the world, away from the cloister.

Now, why did this part of the book annoy me so much when I first read it? It may have just been that I wasn’t in the mood for it but it was also this idea of duality in life, this idea that everything could be explained in terms of complimentary opposites (yin and yang?) which I find just too simplistic an argument to be useful for…well, anything really. In this case it is stated that thinkers/scholars are all like Narziss — pious, ascetic, distant from the world; and artists/free-spirits are all like Goldmund — lovers, live life to the full, belong in the world. Later on in the novel we get this explanation:

All being, it seemed, was built on opposites, on division. Man or woman, vagabond or citizen, lover or thinker — no breath could both be in and out, none could be man and wife, free and yet orderly, knowing the urge of life and the joy of intellect. Always the one paid for the other, though each was equally precious and essential.

With regards to character types I think it’s more useful to think in terms of a spectrum of types rather than in binary terms; in this case, admittedly, Narziss and Goldmund may sit at either ends of the spectrum but most of us will be somewhere between the two poles. Having read this section through again I believe that Hesse is using these two extreme character types to make the point that we should not try to be someone we’re not. But then doesn’t this raise the question as to whether we stick to our ‘natural self’ (whatever that means) and never try to change ourselves or whether we should try to change, try new things, experiment etc. I’m not quite so sure it’s as easy as Hesse seems to think to ‘be yourself’. Why shouldn’t Narziss experience the world? Why shouldn’t Goldmund study, learn a trade and settle down etc? They don’t have to be one or the other?

The other thing that annoyed me was all this ‘mother-worship’ stuff going on with Goldmund. It’s explained in this quote:

I understand you well. Now we have no need to dispute: you are awake, and so you have seen the difference between us, the difference between men akin to their father and those who take their destiny from a woman; the difference between spirit and intellect.

Again, it’s the incredibly simplistic idea that artistic temperament comes from the mother while the intellect comes from the father. I guess it’s the influence that Freud et al. had on artists during this period that explains some of this.

Once I realised that I just disagreed with a lot of what Hesse was saying I began to enjoy the book a lot more and didn’t worry. Once Goldmund leaves the monastery to experience life the book changes tack completely and it becomes more of a picaresque novel. Just when all this wandering about starts to get a bit dull Goldmund suddenly finds an aim in life:

…Goldmund had a thing he had never known, a thing he had often smiled at, or envied, in others: an aim.

The aim is to become an artist which takes up much of the rest of the novel until Narziss and Goldmund meet again.

Despite the problems I had with this novel, in the end I really enjoyed it. The style is a mixture of realism and mythology; the descriptions are realistic but it’s in a vaguely defined medieval Germany that almost seems Arthurian until Goldmund experiences the plague that’s ravaging the countryside.

hesse-revisedI read this as part of the Hermann Hesse Reading Week hosted by Caroline at ‘Beauty is a Sleeping Cat’ and Karen at ‘Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings’. I’ve enjoyed reading the other posts on Hesse’s work and I’ve discovered a lot about the man and his work.

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‘Trauma’ by Patrick McGrath

McGrath_Trauma-fcAfter reading too many unfulfilling books lately I wanted to read something modern, quick & easy to read but I wanted a book that still had substance. I’ve read a few of Patrick McGrath’s books and Trauma had been on my TBR list for quite a while so…its time had come.

I like books that have a first sentence that pulls the reader in. Patrick McGrath does this really well; Paul Auster is another author that excels with these killer opening lines. Trauma opens with these lines:

My mother’s first depressive illness occurred when I was seven years old, and I felt it was my fault. I felt I should have prevented it. This was about a year before my father left us.

And so, along with the title, we are left in no doubt that we are about to read a story about depression, suicide, dysfunctional families & relationships and other mental illnesses.

The novel is told from the viewpoint of Charlie Weir. From the beginning we find out about his mother who in her latter years drank and smoked heavily, was depressed and lived in squalor. His father was only a periodic presence in his childhood and his mother and father had a violent relationship. Charlie has an argumentative relationship with his older brother Walter. Both Charlie and Walter seem to thrive on their arguments and their dad would often encourage them to argue and fight when they were children.

Walt and I could get angry at each other in seconds. It alarmed others. It worried Agnes, my wife, to whom I was still married at the time, when she first saw it happen, that two otherwise civilized men could so quickly become so abusive.

At the point the book starts Charlie has been separated from his wife, Agnes, for seven years though he is still in touch with her and his daughter Cassie. Agnes is now married to Leon, a fireman, but Charlie lives alone. Oh, and Charlie is a psychiatrist who specialises in trauma, especially trauma experienced by war veterans. As the book is set in late 1970s New York there are a lot of Vietnam veterans that need help. The story dips into the past frequently and we discover that he met Agnes through her brother Danny, who was one of Charlie’s Vietnam patients. Danny rarely talked about what happened in Vietnam but it is hinted that the failure of Charlie’s and Agnes’s marriage had something to do with Danny’s treatment.

Previous McGrath books that I’ve read have had a gothic and/or horror feel to them but Trauma is told in a short, punchy style more reminiscent of an old U.S. detective story. There is also a lot of smoking, drinking and sleeping around, which all adds to the seedy feeling of the book, which is the effect that McGrath is presumably after. All the characters are in some way damaged and yet none, including Charlie, seem to be enthusiastic about getting professional help. So we view these characters at times when they’re at their lowest. McGrath handles this excellently as they could so easily become stereotypes but each character is believeable if not particularly likeable.

So, the main thrust of the story is to see whether Charlie can resolve the issues concerning Danny and his marriage breakup as well as his relationships with his mother and brother. As the book progresses there are enough revelations of everyone’s past history to keep the novel ticking over at quite a speed. In the blurb on the back, the book was regularly described as a thriller, and whilst I can see that it could be described as such, I prefer Hilary Mantel’s description of it: ‘The novel works beautifully as a sober, tightly written character study.’

When reading novels I always pick out and save quotations. Trauma had several good ‘one-liners’ but I especially liked this longer one:

   I often wondered how it would be to tramp off into the mountains and keep going until I was exhausted, then simply sink into the snow and fall asleep. Then the wolves could have me.
   To want to die in the forest and be eaten by wolves: another marker of incipient madness.

I couldn’t help but look at some other reviews before reading the book and was a little surprised to see many bad reviews. The criticisms were mainly that the characters were unlikeable, they drank and smoked constantly, the ending was rushed and some thought the ending was predictable. Well, I didn’t think the ending was rushed, it was just that the novel did pick up speed a little near the climax. At least it wasn’t one of those enigmatic ‘work it out for yourself’ type of endings. I thought the ending was quite ‘natural’ and believeable; McGrath wasn’t trying to concoct an ending that was overly clever just to confound those readers that pride themselves on working it out.

Now I’ll have to sort out what my next McGrath book will be.

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‘The Joke’ by Milan Kundera

Kundera_The-Joke-fcX-700pxThe Joke was Milan Kundera’s first novel. He began writing it in 1962, it was completed in 1965, first published in 1967 as Žert and first translated into English in 1969. Kundera didn’t like the English translation as the translators completely changed the structure of the book. The irony that the book was published in Communist Czechoslovakia uncensored but completely altered and re-arranged when published in the West was not lost on Kundera. The translation that I read is by Michael Henry Heim and was approved by Kundera and published in 1982. Looking at the Author’s Note in a more recent translation it appears that Kundera had second thoughts about aspects of this translation and personally altered it and republished it in 1992.

For me this is a re-read and re-reading books is something I’ve been doing and enjoying just lately and which I plan to continue doing. Although I’ve read and re-read most of Kundera’s books, at least up to Immortality, The Joke was one that I kept meaning to re-read but never quite got round to it. My reluctance was in part because I didn’t enjoy my first reading that much; I remember it being a bit bland, but this was after reading his later books. However, I’ve really enjoyed re-reading it and my (relatively) lower opinion of it was a bit unfair. I think now I would say it stands up there with his other works – no problem.

What spurred me on to read it now was to include this review in Stu’s Eastern-European Lit Month. When deciding to read this book I did wonder if Kundera would object to us including Czechoslovakia in Eastern Europe rather than Central Europe and whether modern-day Czechs and Slovaks would have any objections as well. Maybe it’s not an issue but it’s similar to the point that Kundera made in the preface to my edition; that the West quickly thought of Czechoslovakia and the other Soviet Bloc countries as being part of the U.S.S.R. whereas the inhabitants of those countries thought of themselves as belonging to a distinct country.

The book is split into seven parts with the first six parts focusing on one of the characters where we see events through their eyes. Ludvik Jahn is the main character and he has three parts to himself whilst Jaroslav, Helena and Kostka all have a part each. The last part is a mixture of viewpoints as all the characters are brought together. Now, I always love this type of approach to a novel as the multiple viewpoints makes it more three-dimensional and realistic than a third-person narrative or one from a single first-person narrative and it works well here with the type of story that Kundera is telling.

The book opens with Ludvik returning to his hometown. He hasn’t been back there for years and he meets up with an old acquaintance called Kostka, and arranges to use his flat for a meeting with his lover when she arrives. The narrative switches to Helena, who is preparing for her trip to meet Ludvik, then switches back to Ludvik in 1948. At this time he was a young optimistic member of the Communist Party although he’s a bit of a joker and worst of all, he’s often accused of being an individualist. Ludvik has a very serious girlfriend called Marketa who is often made fun of as she never understands any jokes. Just as their relationship is forming Marketa has to leave for a short training session so they have to rely on sending each other letters. Marketa is enjoying the training session and her letters are full of her enthusiasm and optimism of the socialist order. Although Ludvik agrees with her, he’s jealous of her happiness away from him:

So I bought a postcard and (to hurt, shock, and confuse her) wrote: Optimism is the opium of the people! A healthy atmosphere stinks of stupidity! Long live Trotsky! Ludvik.

Their correspondence soon dries up and when she returns to Prague she is reluctant to renew their relationship. It’s not long before Ludvik is called before a Party University Committee which confronts him about his relationship with Marketa and the postcard that he sent. Although it was only meant as a joke, under the scrutiny of the committee the words on the postcard look like anti-Communist sentiments and can not be tolerated. Ludvik is thrown out of the university and the Party and soon finds himself ostracised. Even his friend Zemanek refuses to help him so he returns to his hometown. He has few options now and so he gets drafted to a Work Brigade and ends up working in a mine for years.

Ludvik finds it difficult adjusting to his new lowly status but slowly gets used to the militaristic lifestyle. The only positive side is that they get paid reasonably well and when they get leave they can let their hair down a bit. Ludvik then meets Lucie:

She was coming in my direction, in the direction of the courtyard. Why didn’t I simply walk past her? Was it because I was merely drifting aimlessly or because the unusual late-afternoon lighting in the courtyard held me back? Or was it something in the way she looked? But her appearance was utterly ordinary. True, later that ordinary quality about her was what touched and attracted me, but how was it she caught my eye and stopped me in my tracks the first time I saw her?

They form a relationship though it is often difficult arranging to meet each other as Lucie lives in a dormitory and Ludvik’s leave was erratic. Their relationship is initially Platonic but Ludvik becomes obsessed with having sex with her; he tries to organise trysts with her but is frustrated with Lucie’s reluctance together with the petty life back at the camp. This culminates in Ludvik’s attempted rape of her. When he tries to get in touch with her days later he discovers that Lucie has disappeared.

The narrative returns to the present day and we learn about Jaroslav, an old friend of Ludvik, who belongs to a folk music group. Jaroslav is interested in folk traditions of all sorts as was Ludvik when he was younger. Jaroslav and the whole town are preparing for a procession called The Ride of the Kings, an event that means a lot to Jaroslav. We now find out more about Jaroslav and Ludvik as well as Ludvik’s reason for returning to his hometown – his rendezvous with Helena. We even find out what’s happened to Lucie as well and it’s at this point that the parts of the novel start to slot together and the connections between the characters are made clearer. So I won’t reveal any more of the plot in order not to spoil it for others.

At the beginning of the book it would appear that ‘the joke’ refers solely to the joke on the postcard. However, by the end of the book it’s clear that it refers to other ‘jokes’ in the lives of the characters. In the author’s preface to my edition Kundera states:

The plot of The Joke is itself a joke. And not only its plot. Its “philosophy” as well: man, caught in the trap of a joke, suffers a personal catastrophe which, seen from without, is ludicrous. His tragedy lies in the fact that the joke has deprived him of the right to tragedy. He is condemned to triviality.

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