So,  a tonne of philosophy and satirical philosophy, modern political criticism (of the world scene during the 1980s), and philosophical questioning of origin and purpose; we are slain with the importance of understanding the difference between the philosophy of communism and the dichotomised practice of same in the 20th Century throughout Asia & Europe. 

Kundera is a shocking writer. His prose flows easily, and the novel-slash-socio-cultural-commentary is a quick read, while at the same time heavy, sometimes-intellectual, sometimes-pseudo-intellectual, and overall consuming in the way that makes you want to drop the book and have a political-religious-philosophical debate every 10 pages or so. 

The reduction of mankind to a physical being is jarringly perverse. The subsequent misinterpretations of principles of multiple philosophies, most particularly the Judaeo-Christian creation story is downright laughable, based on culturally-driven humanistic interpretations so far removed from context they lose all meaning as love is lost and basic human compassion is swallowed up in soulless existentialism. And as self-sacrificing love is the point of these ancient stories, well, therein we find the clinch-pin of misguided communist practice in societies misinterpreting its philosophy... 

But then, this is a study (glorification?) of Nietzsche, as presented in the possible real lives of real people who suffered under communist occupation and their own battle to know self in the midst of complicated philosophical confusion and the enervating process of losing their souls to an oppressive political regime. 

Apt that this novel was published in 1984, with undercurrents of Orwell’s 1984 permeating every thought, interrogation, and self-gratifying relationship. Squeeze out selfless love and true compassion, reduce a people to a workforce through oppression, and yes, the surgeon will lose the art of his craft in favour of cleaning windows, the artist will suppress her ability to express beauty in favour of reproducing images of conformity. 

Here, we see the loss and pain caused by wholly self-serving individuals who base their actions on self-satisfaction, doing their best to remove the ‘other’ from the equation, convincing self that the others affected by their self-serving actions do not hurt, they cannot be marred—and at every page turn, an’other’ is suffering their own internal agony because of repetitive selfish behaviours…oh... 

Kundera’s criticism hits hard, and the result is a hopeless meandering through a pointless life riddled with meaningless politics and vain liturgy, emptying every human swallowed up in these philosophies of their very soul, delivering them up unto the great nothingness of a vacuous existence. 

At least, we conclude in tandem, there is companionship in dogs who don’t have a selfish bone in their weak and futile bodies… and we, the incomparable human race are beaten down, divided, oppressed, and reduced to asking: might the divine be found in such a simple creature?

Some parts genius with a whole lot of intentional (genius-inspired) gibberish in between…