The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera

This post contains affiliate links. If you click through and buy I will receive a percentage commission at no extra cost to you.

Kundera’s famous novel opens with a discussion of philosophy - Nietzsche’s thought experiment of the Eternal Return in which he questions how you’d react if every moment of your life, every decision you made, would be repeated ad infinitum. He goes on to explore the idea of lightness and weight. Does the fact that we know our lives don’t repeat, that we will never be able to make the same decision again, or know what would have happened if we had done the opposite, mean that our lives are meaningless? This might seem a heavy subject for a book, and certainly the setting of it, the Prague Spring of 1968 in which the Soviet Union invaded then Czechoslovakia, adds additional heaviness, but it is not as dense as this might suggest. We meet a host of characters trying to navigate life in difficult circumstances, yet continuing along in situations relatable across the years - relationships, infidelity, sense of self, and identity.

Tomas is a serial womaniser and when he unexpectedly falls in love with Tereza finds himself unable to give up sex with others. He believes that love and lust are two separate things and so it is perfectly possible to love Tereza completely while continuing in his sexual liaisons with others. However, Tereza struggles with his infidelities, and he does feel some guilt, reaching a point where he has to drink in order to sleep with others, but the smell of alcohol gives away his actions. His longest-running extra-marital relationship is with Sabina, an artist who also has other partners. She is happily uncommitted, and when another lover leaves his wife for her she leaves without a trace. 

Tereza has a difficult upbringing with a mother who did not conform to social norms, and whose ideas about privacy and the body were damaging to her daughter. She refused to let Tereza lock the bathroom door, and was more concerned about her desire for privacy than the fact her own partner would frequently go into the bathroom while Tereza was naked. Tereza came to feel that all bodies were equal and in Tomas she wanted to feel special, unique. His infidelities led her to despair that he saw no distinction between her and other women’s bodies. We see frequently in her disturbing dreams how she sees herself through Tomas’s eyes, that she understands the power he has over her and her desire to please him, but also that she does not believe he wants the best for her. Her dreams appear throughout without warning or indication that we are reading a dream, which can be disorienting due to the darkness of the contents of them. Her trajectory feels sad, from a painful childhood and family life, to hope that Tomas will be a gateway into a different better life, to resignation. She is a talented photographer and takes courageous photographs of the reality of occupation, but she feels cowed by Tomas, realising when they leave Prague that he does not provide everything she needs, that their relationship only works when she has the other familiar routines of daily life.

There is also a sense of paranoia and claustrophobia as anyone with any kind of public position is at risk of being condemned for their opinions or actions. Tomas tries to avoid committing to either side to avoid any kind of consequences but he is unsuccessful, his licence to practice surgery is removed and he instead spends his days as a window cleaner, which offers him ample opportunity for yet more sexual relations, and very little actual window cleaning. He has a general air of lack of consequence. He had formerly been married and has a son but never sees him nor does he have any desire to be in his life. He does not consider the effect his actions have on those connected to him, determinedly living a life of lightness, with not a thought to the heaviness he imposes on those around him as a consequence. 

The narrative flits between characters, between the dreamworld and the real, and at times the narrator speaks to us directly as the reader. It is not a conventional narrative style but it is interesting, and as we approach the end we see the same events from different perspectives. An interesting read which explores gender relations and identity, personal responsibility, and uses the historical context, which was still very relevant at the time of publication, to add a sense of finality to decisions. A book which you can enjoy as a standalone piece, but which is likely to inspire a deeper dive into some of the ideas, events, and issues explored. 

Pick up a copy:

Waterstones

Wide Sargasso Sea, Jean Rhys

This post contains affiliate links. If you click through and buy I will receive a percentage commission at no extra cost to you.

Hailed as a feminist, post-colonial prequel to Jane Eyre, Rhys’s Wide Sargasso Sea gives a voice to the ‘madwoman in the attic’. Split into three sections, we witness Antoinette’s life before she met Rochester - wealthy but shunned by her neighbours, racial tension simmers. The second section reveals events from Rochester’s point of view in which he is variously accused of marrying Antoinette for her money and warned that he has in fact been tricked into marrying into a family with a history of poor mental health. The final, short section reveals the sad life forced upon Antoinette, locked in a room with only Grace Poole for company. We see the result of Rochester’s harmful behaviour, and for many readers this changes their views on the conclusion of Jane Eyre.

There is a sense of displacement, of living between worlds throughout. Antoinette and her family suffer for the ills of the recent past. She desires friendship but experiences rejection on numerous occasions. Rochester too expresses disorientation and has a clear lack of understanding of local custom. He is also callous in his behaviour toward Antoinette, refusing to call her anything but Bertha, attempting to erase her reality. We see the cruelty of removing her from her home, taking control of her wealth, and refusing to allow her even a room with a window she can fully see out of. So disoriented does she become in this prison that she can’t believe she is truly in England. She becomes increasingly disconnected from herself, unable to remember events clearly, and becoming fixated on the red dress that she links to her identity.

This is a short but intense read. Authors reimagining other writers’ characters is a tricky business, and many attempts fall short. Here Rhys has created a tale compelling to read whether you’re familiar with Jane Eyre or not. The themes and stylistic choices offer food for thought, and knowing the inevitable fate of Antoinette from the off can add a further layer of emotion. Rhys makes the characters come alive afresh, offering an alternate view of events in giving voice to the silenced.

Pick up a copy:
Bookshop
Foyles
Waterstones

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien

This post contains affiliate links. If you click through and buy I will receive a percentage commission at no extra cost to you.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

The book opens with preparations for Bilbo’s birthday festivities. All are invited but few know that the party will double as a farewell. He leaves Frodo his home, and with it the ring that he found on his own great adventure. Little does he know the burden he is passing on. Before long, his old friend Gandalf discovers the truth and sends Frodo on a quest that he may never return from. Armed with the Ring, a name, and a loyal group of friends, he leaves the comfort of the Shire, stepping out into the unknown, the haunting Black Riders tracking them at every turn.

The landscapes they travel through are vividly described and can be at times a source of beauty and sustenance and at others a barren wasteland with nowhere to hide from the evil that follows them. Tolkien’s world-building is second to none, imagining worlds of comfort and grandeur that you feel you could happily step into. The forces of nature are never far away however, dramatic weather impeding their journeys while other natural barriers provide protection. The contrast between the landscapes are vast and set the tone subtly but powerfully.

Tolkien created a varied host of characters with complex desires and histories. Sam’s unwavering loyalty to Frodo is touching, and although a lot of the humour comes from the hobbits’ naivety (and obsession with food), each plays a valuable role and all put aside comfort and a quiet life to help each other and ultimately attempt to save Middle Earth from the dark power of Sauron. Interactions between members of the Fellowship feel believable as they debate the best course of action and struggle to balance their own priorities with the aims of the group.

The book is littered with small details that make the journey feel very real. Frequently there is discussion of where they will sleep, when and what they’ll eat, and how they need to eke out the sparse supplies they have. These everyday details resist the temptation to focus solely on dramatic events and the story is more fully rounded for it while avoiding being bogged down in too many unnecessary intricacies. You feel the agonising decisions and sacrifices and never forget what a gruelling journey they are on.

The Ring itself provides a point of conflict. Frodo, the Ringbearer, shoulders the burden of it yet remains pure. He innocently offers it to those he believes to be better potential carriers yet proves himself just as capable, if not more so. Those of great power fear the corrupting influence of the Ring which only goes to highlight Frodo’s great strength of will. The Fellowship vow to help him on his journey but battle against their own desire for the power it wields. Boromir particularly finds it difficult to see beyond the struggles of his own people and doubts about the possible success of Frodo’s mission. We see in him more explicitly the conflict that is more subtly hinted at in others.

The setting and characters are richly evoked, creating a realistic and complex world. Tolkien writes in the foreword of my edition that many drew parallels between Middle Earth and the war torn world he was living in. He denies the War directly impacted the trajectory of his tale, but its subject is one that can be drawn into relevance across many ages of human history. Despite its size and serious content, this is not a heavy read. It had me chuckling to myself on many occasions. There is great fun and light to be found in contrast to the darker, genuinely unsettling passages. An absorbing read that will make you want to start The Two Towers immediately.

Pick up a copy:
Bookshop
Foyles
Waterstones

The Dud Avocado, Elaine Dundy

This post contains affiliate links. If you click through and buy I will receive a percentage commission at no extra cost to you.

Sally Jay Gorce is a young American in 1950s Paris, finding her way through the busy streets, cafés full of students having lively debates, and of course, falling in love, having affairs, and generally living life to the full. We first meet her in the morning, wearing an evening dress because she’s been unable to successfully retrieve the rest of her clothes from the laundry. She bumps into Larry, an old acquaintance, and instantly finds herself under the pressure of sexual desire. Unfortunately, mid-conversation, her lover, Teddy, a married diplomat, arrives and she has to make her excuses. We are instantly welcomed into her whirlwind of a life in which she finds herself constantly feeling out of place. Her voice is strong, humorous, naive, and oh so relatable. It is not the story itself that keeps you hooked but Sally Jay’s distinctive voice - think the endearing, lively voice of Cassandra in I Capture the Castle mixed with the humour and worldliness of Bridget Jones’s Diary. 

An aspiring actress, Gorce leaves a stable relationship for the chance to be in a film. Unfortunately, it turns out she is mostly needed to help the star with his English. Undeterred, she throws herself into the experience and enjoys the proximity to Larry that it affords. It is during this time that things begin to unravel and she sees people for who they really are. ‘That’s the story of my life. Someone’s behaviour strikes me as a bit odd and the next thing I know all hell breaks loose.’ We see this to be true several times throughout. Her innocence and hopefulness often blind her to the schemes of others, but when the time comes she’s more than able to hold her own.

Despite the light feel to the book, even amid some of the more serious encounters, there is a critique of the role of women, and a desire to be taken seriously. She is surprised to discover the expectation that she knows how to cook, sees that cooking and cleaning is the lot of other women but doesn’t see why it should be her fate too. Earlier in the novel, after an upsetting altercation with Teddy she comments ‘I reflected wearily that it was not easy to be a Woman in these stirring times. I said it then and I say it now: it just isn’t our century.’ This realisation doesn’t keep her down however, her insatiable zest for life moving her on to the next promising opportunity.

Gorce is a charming protagonist - honest and amusing, she doesn’t hold back. The writing is clever, conversational, and brilliantly astute. Sally Jay feels completely real and refreshingly candid, she’s a great character to spend some time with.

Pick up a copy:
Bookshop
Foyles
Waterstones

Reader Morality

* Spoiler alert – this post discusses Rebecca, Wuthering Heights, The Phantom of the Opera, and American Psycho and you may find some parts to spoil the plot *

Last year I finally got round to reading Rebecca, and although it wasn’t quite what I was expecting, it is a book that inspires debate. The final quarter is by far the most engaging section of the novel as Rebecca’s murder and true character are revealed. Of course, Maxim’s depiction of her may well be skewed – their marriage did not end well and he’s unlikely to admit to murder in the same breath as praising his deceased wife. There are hints from other characters that suggest she was not as perfect as others would have the new Mrs de Winter to believe. Assuming that we believe Maxim’s tale, does this justify the reader in rooting for him to get away with it? Does the fact we know it’s fiction lessen the moral dilemma? I would argue that we are more accepting of extreme behaviour within the confines of fiction, and yet it can help us to see the world in less black and white simplicity.

The point of view of the narrator will play a large part in our reaction to events. We have witnessed the story unfold through the eyes of Maxim’s new bride and although she is not particularly likable and seems self-centred to the extreme when discovering the sticky end of Rebecca and feeling only relief that she no longer has to live in her shadow. Yet, because we have never met Rebecca except through the reminiscences of other characters, it is easier to side with Maxim. We experience the events through the loving eyes of his new wife and so it is her desire for evading the law that is projected on to the reader.

Often it is either the narrator’s voice that sways us as readers or the knowledge of mistreatment that has led to their otherwise unforgivable actions. Take Heathcliff for example; he behaves abominably through large chunks of Wuthering Heights and yet generations of fans hold him up as a romantic hero or misunderstood man. Popular adaptations lean heavily toward this interpretation, cutting many of his wicked deeds, yet many readings of the novel are also often reluctant to condemn him. Why? Is it because we see his mistreatment at the hands of Hindley and abandonment by Cathy and hold on to the sympathy this evokes? Regardless of this, can we really justify his abuse of the next generation who have done him no harm? Is it fair to look the other way because of childhood trauma? Would we feel the same way if it were real life?

Similarly in The Phantom of the Opera we are led to feel pity for the Phantom. Again, popular adaptations downplay his villainy, but even in the popular musical he kills somebody. In the book he has a torture chamber that we see put to use in horrifying detail, but we are also told that even his own mother would not kiss his head. His rejection is total. This sense of him having been wronged throughout his life through no fault of his own, to begin with at least, encourages us to feel more compassionately toward him. These characters show humans to be much more complex than simply good or bad. We seem to find this almost easier to accept in fiction than in life.

In both Wuthering Heights and The Phantom of the Opera we don’t have the story told to us by the perpetrators themselves but pieced together through other narratives. This suggests that it is knowledge of hardship that plays with our reactions more than the narrative point of view. If we look at a more recent example, American Psycho, we are reading a first person narrative, experiencing crimes in uncomfortable detail, and I can’t imagine many readers making excuses for Patrick Bateman’s actions as we have in the previous examples. Why does he not hold this same ambiguity (for the purpose of this post, let’s assume the crimes are real and not figments of his imagination, as is the belief held throughout the bulk of the book)? Consumerism and the shallow society he lives in seem to be his main driving factors, seeing humans as little more than commodities. This admittedly does not spring from the same abuse that our other examples have endured, yet there is the suggestion that he is mentally ill and therefore not entirely culpable for his actions. Why is this not enough? If we witnessed Heathcliff’s actions against Isabella in similarly gruesome detail would we find it as easy to make excuses for his behaviour? Does Bateman’s lack of regret close him off to us where in others there is some inkling of remorse? Do we need this as something we can relate to on a human level?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on these famous characters, what books have raised moral questions for you, and if the experience translated into altered world views? Let me know in the comments below.