Subtitle: Thoughts on re-read of Milan Kundera’s The Joke (the 1982 English translation)

“Optimism is the opium of the people! A healthy atmosphere stinks of stupidity! Long live Trotsky!” -from The Joke by Milan Kundera

According to Ludvik the quote above is from a postcard he sent to woman of interest as a joke. I suppose when written to a person while in the midst of love-lust confusion and during the striving days of the Soviet Unions’ new-beginnings in early 1960s Czechoslovakia, Milan Kundera considers the twisting of Marx’s Religion is the opium of the people more than just a joke. But what can one do if/when the thing you are really joking about is a system that depends on the control of not just words written but also of words thought?

As I ride it gayly and march ambiguously into the twilight of western democracy’s funny-train (the #Trump-era), I’m often wondering if I’ll see the day when the same type of total control (totalitarianism) that Kundera deals with, I’ll also have to deal with. Considering how things have turned out since 1991 and the fall of the Soviet Union, I also wonder if the whole socialist experiment was just one big joke played on humanity by some dirtbag she-goddess with a grudge–that stems back tens of thousands of years because of how males grabbed females by the HAIR and dragged them into caves. You know, as in, grab ’em by the… But I digress.

“You used to say that socialism sprouted from the soil of European rationalism and skepticism, a soil both nonreligious and anti-religious, and that it is otherwise inconceivable. But can you seriously maintain that it is impossible to build a socialist society without faith in the supremacy of matter? Do you really think that people who believe in God are incapable of nationalising factories?” -from The Joke by Milan Kundera

Then again, of the political and economic systems alive & kicking in the world today, there really is only one that has past the test of (recent) time. If you’re thinking Capitalism is that system, dear worst-reader, you’d better think again. Socialism is kicking butt right now. From both sides of China’s Great Wall to Vladimir Putin’s total ownership of Red Square to the various interpretations of Socialism in the vastness of #Eurowasteland’s epic confusion, Socialism is way ahead of #Americant… Sorry. Way ahead of Capitalism.

“‘As Communists we are responsible for everything that is going on here.’ I nearly laughed in his face. Responsibility was unthinkable without freedom, I told him. He said he felt free enough to act like a Communist and that he had to prove, would prove himself a Communist. His jaw trembled as he spoke. Today, years later, I can still remember it clearly, but now I realise that Alexej was not much more than twenty at the time, a child, an adolescent, and his destiny hung on him like the clothes of a giant on a little boy.” -from The Joke by Milan Kundera

In worst-short, Capitalism in its current iteration is nothing but a reimagining of Feudalism. Feudalism was a system of lords and serfs, including inbred monarchs. What lead to Feudalism was Slavery. Slavery had the longest run of the three. Slavery goes back to Egypt, don’t you know. It was also used in Ancient Greece, Rome and, of course, it was used to build my beloved & missed #Americant. But then $hit started to hit the fan as that whole Enlightenment thing took hold after the 16th century. Btw, I will always admire the French for one-upping the US when it comes to social and political revolutions derived out of human oppression. Indeed. The French nailed it. (Well, they nailed it in the revolution but fcuked it up in the counter-revolution.)

“Rationalist skepticism has been eating away at Christianity for two millennia now. Eating away at it without destroying it. But Communist theory, its own creation, it will destroy within a few decades.” -from The Joke by Milan Kundera

The thing to keep in mind when worst-writer says that Socialism is currently outlasting, winning, kicking the a$$ of capitalism, is the state of things in the strongest Capitalist strongholds, the US and the UK. Is it any concern to anyone how small these remaining Capitalist nation-states are? Or should one consider how large China is? So even if my claim here is kinda out of whack, the fact remains, China is on the verge of over taking #Americant as the largest economy in the world–and it is far from being a Capitalist nation. Will we someday soon consider Capitalist nations and their extreme isolation a joke? Think about that worst-thought.

“Nobody liked people who relied on pull.” -from The Joke by Milan Kundera

It’s all a joke. Seriously. The state of things in the Capitalist West is a fcuking joke and it can only be comparable to the fcuking joke of the former Soviet Union (and its failure) and to the success of China along with a few places in #Eurowasteland. (I’ve always said that Germany is the last Communist State in the West.) And the thing about a joke is sometimes you’re in on it and other times it’s in on you. I mean, come on. Crooked, lock-her-up #Hillary won something like four million more votes than #Trump and she wouldn’t have done much to counter the chilling effects of the post FDR years where Capitalism has pretty much run amok. Is that not a joke? The Capitalist democracy joke? Is the manipulation of #Americant’s electoral college combined with bailing out banks that act like loan sharks the joke teller? Jokes galore, dear worst-reader. An audience of joke lovers.

Milan Kundera’s idear of the perfect joke: Helena, one of Ludvik’s lovers, attempts suicide by stealing pills from a young man. It turns out the pills are laxatives hidden in a prescription jar of pain killers. While in a panic and trying to save her, she is found hysterical sitting on toilet.

The Joke was Kundera’s first book. Although I started reading it years ago, I never got around to finishing it. Having read three others (Laughable Loves, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Immortality), I knew that I would eventually get around to this one again as it waited patiently for me in my Kundera collection. After picking it up the other day and having a first sitting with it, I realised that I had actually read more than I initially remembered. All the markings, underlines, etc., that I had made so many years ago woke my memory of having read through it one night while gloriously penetrating a bimbo I met in Amsterdam. Yeah, Dankyavel was her name. I would fcuk her for a bit and while in my refractory period I’d read from this book. We’d then fcuk some more and with each subsequent fcuk I’d need a longer refractory period where I could read more. Hence I feel safe considering this a re-read. Btw, the only thing I miss from youth is cumming in or on or around a woman smarter than me ten times a day.

“Pray tell, dear friend, Why doth this honest groom desire to take this honest maid to wife? Is’t for the flower or the fruit?” -from The Joke by Milan Kundera

Most of The Joke is a joy to read. But I can understand why some might consider Kundera’s narrative style a bit cumbersome. (At least that’s what my wife says.) To me, Kundera is an author that has unlimited creative prowess, he maintains a thread that permeates all his work (which I really dig), and his word sculpting never ceases to amaze. But the thing that always brings me back to Kundera–let’s say as a reference source, especially in times of trouble where Mother Mary doesn’t come to me–is the fact that I have always been touched by his exasperations regarding Stalinism. Along with Vaclav Havel, Kundera introduced me to a new reality of political thought. The fact that Kundera is able to combine (his) musings about love, passion and desire from the POV of political oppression, makes his work even more interesting. (Btw, that’s the thread that permeates.)

When I first started reading Kundera, back in the early 90s, capitalist and/or economic oppression hadn’t shown its #Trump face yet. In other words, Reaganomics hadn’t made the full turn to ugly (Deplorables) yet. The Soviet Union was in free-fall but the former oppressed were suddenly free to buy jeans, Marlboro reds, travel, etc. Yet the whole time I couldn’t help but feel that the oppression of the Soviet Union wasn’t isolated nor was it bound by politics. Oppression is oppression, eh. As we all now know, the only thing the peoples of the Soviet Union really wanted was jeans, Marlboro reds and…. blah, blah, blah. What was once authoritarian oppression has now become economic oppression–the difference between the two being jeans, Marlboro reds, blah, blah, blah.

My first read of Kundera was The Unbearable Lightness of Being and it was like being struck by lightening. From the get-go, Tomas became my secret hero. His heroism, btw, has nothing to do with his fight against the Soviet-Man. No. Tomas was about love and the conquest of love and then eventually losing yourself in love. Tomas, to me, was the kind of lover I sincerely wanted to be. Was I ever able to find my Tereza or my Sabina? Of course not–although I did enjoy trying (to find her.) But until the power, the anger and the need to fcuk finally subsided (resulting in the true cute ugliness of feminine payback aka marriage), all I ever wanted was to fcuk like Tomas. The real beauty of Kundera’s The Joke is that Ludvik is Tomas’ predecessor, if not Tomas’ character in spirit. It’s almost like reading Tomas in a beta version.

“Yes, suddenly I saw it all clearly: most people willingly deceive themselves with a doubly false faith; they believe in eternal memory (of men, things, deeds, peoples) and in rectification (of deeds, errors, sins, injustice). Both are sham. The truth lies at the opposite end of the scale: everything will be forgotten and nothing will be rectified. All rectification (both vengeance and forgiveness) will be taken over by oblivion. No one will rectify wrongs; all wrongs will be forgotten.” -from The Joke, Milan Kundera

Kundera’s The Joke is really one big joke. It’s brilliant!

-Rant on

T

Links that motivated this post:
– Opium of the people | Wiki

There are two things I always think about when I think about the tale of Beowulf. The first is the connection the story has to religion, specifically monotheistic religion. At the time the story was written polytheism was still relatively common in Northern Europe. Even though it is a very minor part of the original text, I believe the slight mention of Christianity is a significant one because the story stems out of a time period where northern Europeans were determining their fate and considering carefully what was going on to their geographical south. Indeed. Odin and Thor and Loki were obviously not enough as the roar of the Roman + Christian empire(s) just below them glowed large and all-powerful.

In the original Beowulf text the Christian religion is mentioned during a debate with the King of the Danes that maybe they should hire the Romans–as in the Christ believers–instead of Beowulf to help them fight Grendel. It is because of that question I’ve always believed that Grendel is not an individual but instead a group or a tribe. Btw, the same applies to Beowulf. In other words, although the story can be about an individual or a few individuals and the heroism that entails–as it’s been interpreted through out the centuries–I believe that the story is actually about tribes that were in a perpetual state of war not only about power and possessions but also beliefs, dogma and Gods. So what were they fighting over?

The second thing I think about is the role of matriarchy in society (tribes) and how rule by the feminine has pretty much been annihilated–even to this day. That is, Grendel and Grendel’s mother represented a tribe(s) where matriarchy ruled. Such rule was unacceptable to the King of the Danes and Beowulf–i.e. two macho-tribes that teamed up. Hence, the Roman Christ God, its patriarchy, its dogma, its weapons and techniques of war, was an acceptable alternative for the macho-pigs in their quest to take over (everything). At the least, this other form of religion put the women-folk in their place. Ultimately, the macho-pigs, embodied in the macho Beowulf, fulfilled this fledgling dogmatic image and, at least in the short term, saved the King of the Danes by defeating–annihilating–not only rival tribes but the rivalry of matriarchy itself. This, in-turn, was the final straw that lead to the Christianisation of Northern Europe that The Universal Church (that would eventually become The Catholic Church) up to that point had been unable to tame. So was Beowulf the north’s first sacrificed saviour? But on that note, I digress.

So much for worst-writer’s interpretation of the Poem of Everything. Instead, dear worst-reader, let’s focus on someone else’s interpretation of Beowulf. Someone who I think has nailed it. I just finished The Mere Wife by Maria Dahvana Headley. Talk about interpretation, baby! And not only can this chick fcuking write–she has created a glorious text to read–and she’s even come up with a pretty good interpretation of Beowulf. But only pretty good!

Set in the modern suburban-hell of my beloved & missed & war-torn #Americant, Headley has kinda done a reverse and inverse of Beowulf. Her interpretation is not hero centric but instead heroine centric. By turning the story inside-out and telling it through the point of view of the feminine, who must cope with the fcuked-up world created and facilitated by male driven war, if not penis-driven suburbia, she has masterfully concocted a story of the trials, pains and tribulations of a once great nation run amok–and what that’s done to the chicks. Even though I don’t actually like her feminising my favourite man-cave text–and I’m especially not sure if I would like it if I wasn’t already familiar with the original–she writes with such lyrical precision and word-beauty that I’m ready to give one of her other books a go. Yeah, baby. Queen of Kings is next?

The Mere Wife deserves every bit of praise it gets. In fact, I’m gonna have to search the #interwebnets for whether or not anyone doesn’t like what Headley has done with Beowulf. And if/when I find someone who doesn’t like it, I’m gonna hunt them down and stick a big fcuking knife in their neck and drink their blood till the roar of Beowulf booms out of me. Argh!

-Rant (and read) on.

T

The only problem worst-writer has with this wonderfully imaginative novel about The Feminine is how, if it were a quilt, it would be sewn together with a single thread. That thread, unfortunately, is the opposite of The Feminine. I suppose, if pushed to answer what that opposite (thread) is, I’d have to say this book is not exactly about women. Ironically–or not, very few men play a role in this book, except, of course, the antagonist–who only appears at the very end. In other words, this might just be a book about questioning womanhood post ca. the 1950s. But don’t quote me on that. Wait. Hold a sec.

Women and The Feminine are two different things. Right?

According to her Wiki post, Emma Tennant uses magic and mystery in her work. I was disappointed how neither really played a roll in this book. Even though Tennant brilliantly integrates the Faustian bargain into the story, instead it is really written with a quilt in mind. And that is rather confusing to me. Feminising Faust just doesn’t seem like a worthwhile endeavour–even though Tennant writes with excellent craftsmanship. I’m saddened to say that this story tries to deliver something but in the end all there is–is all that’s ever been: predestined, self-perpetuating social norms and gender roles that so many have embraced since Biblical apples galore. Nor is this book very entertaining. And that’s why I love it and plan to hold it dear for the foreseeable future.

Indeed. The feminisation of Faust. Is that enough for a book of this sort? A chick selling her soul to the devil, in and of itself, could be a huge mystery–or even a great piece of magic. Yet there is only reference to a beauty farm that manages to change a grandmother into a rival for her daughter’s lover. Then there’s a TV repair shop with back room. Like so many other places where women choose to go in their world of wanton patriarchy, we get nothing from Tennant about it–or darkened backrooms. It is here that the author tears clear from magic and mystery and instead goes off on a soap-opera-like tangent–which is probably best palatable to the author’s taste. But then again, if asked whether or not she’s a feminist, this book would make me answer: she is not.

On the other hand, if, like me, you’re the least bit curious what goes on in the mind of a woman (and you’re a man) that has nothing to do with the act of procreation or porn-like good-fucking, this book might be for you. Also. I can’t help but feel that faith (or is it destiny) had this book waiting for me at exactly this moment in (my) life. The reason for that has something to do with the #MeToo movement, Harvey W., and desexualising everything to the point of it being so uninteresting that it’s interesting (again). But I digress.

The writing in this book is brilliant. That can’t be said enough. It is truly a work of art chiseled out of a raw piece of… dare I say… feminine granite. It also reminds me of a combination of Oscar Wild’s Dorian Gray and the film The Devil Wears Prada (or M. Streep in that movie). Even though it takes Tennant almost two-thirds of the book to get to the point she’s trying to make (about feminism), the thing that kept me reading it wasn’t what she was writing about but how she writes it. There is much to learn from Emma Tennant.

Rant (and read) on.

-T