The Art of the Novel (Perennial Classics) | Milan Kundera

The Art of the Novel (Perennial Classics) | Milan Kundera | Thank you, Milan Kundera

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The Art of the Nov...

	The Art of the Novel (Perennial Classics) Milan Kundera Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 2003 - 176 pages average customer review:based on 18 reviews view larger image
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highly recommended

Every novelist's work contains an implicit vision of the history of the novel, an idea of what the novel is. I have tried to express here the idea of the novel that is inherent in my own novels.
-- Milan Kundera

Kundera brilliantly examines the work of such important and diverse figures as Rabelais, Cervantes, Sterne, Diderot, Flaubert, Tolstoy, and Musil. He is especially penetrating on Hermann Broch, and his exploration of the world of Kafka's novels vividly reveals the comic terror of Kafka's bureaucratized universe.

Kundera's discussion of his own work includes his views on the role of historical events in fiction, the meaning of action, and the creation of character in the post-psychological novel.

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bold and bracing critique

Kundera's "Art of the Novel" rings with the same provocative and bold insight that marks all his writing. He begins by exploring the unique capacities of the novel, springing from what he describes as `Cervantes' depreciated legacy'. The novel, for Kundera, is the place where the whole non-Manichaeistic ambiguity of human experience - both banal and dramatic - can be explored. From this eagle-eyed view he moves to discussing the compositional techniques in his own novels, examines key writers from Central Europe and explores Kafka's work as the epitome of the `anti-lyric' poetry which, for Kundera, is the distinguishing feature of all the great novels. He goes on to develop a polemical list of key terms that underpin this "Kunderesque" critique and finishes with the text of his 1985 acceptance speech on receiving the Jerusalem Prize for the Freedom of the Individual in Society. "It pleases me," he observes in this address, "to think that the art of the novel came into the world as the echo of God's laughter."

Kundera takes up the themes of these essays again in "Testaments Betrayed" (1996) and revisits and hones them in "The Curtain" published in 2005. While all three collections circle around similar insights and obsessions, it is interesting to watch Kundera elaborate and distil the central preoccupations of his own novelistic impulse. Devotees of the work of René Girard will find familiar themes here and Kundera acknowledges this debt to Girard explicitly in "Testaments Betrayed."

Don't expect a through-worked philosophical examination in any of these essays but do expect an impassioned and always engaging examination of the novel that cuts through a lot of the tedious claustrophobically self-referential tendencies of much postmodern criticism.

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Thank you, Milan Kundera

I haven't read a book this brilliant and intellectually-provoking in a long time. Milan Kundera is a first-class thinker who will be and has been pegged as elitist and pretentious by some reviewers here (and elsewhere I'm sure). Since we're living in an age of ever-diminishing education where a college diploma is equivalent to what a technical degree used to be, this is to be expected, and is indeed flattery. In the section of the book called Sixty-three Words, Kundera himself addresses the issue under "Elitism": The word "elitism" only appeared in France in 1967 [note: it appeared elsewhere in Europe as much as ten years earlier]. For the first time in history, the very language threw a glare of negativity, even mistrust, on the notion of elite. Official propaganda in the Communist countries began to pummel elitism and elitists at the same time. It used the terms to designate not captains of industry or famous athletes or politicians but only the cultural elite: philosophers, writers, professors, historians, figures in film and theater....It seems that in the whole of Europe the cultural elite is yielding to other elites. Over there, to the elite of the police apparatus. Here, to the elite of the mass media apparatus. No one will ever accuse these new elites of elitism...

In this dense but slim work, Kundera discusses the essence of the novel, which is in his view the exploration of uncharted territory through structure, insight, ideas and themes. Which is the idea of art in general, really, be it painting, music or anything else. In a revealing section, he talks about the tyranny of kitsch, which is the beautification (and in the process simplification) of everything, to make it palatable to the reader/viewer. Kitsch is prettified lies, in other words, and he points out how most of us live all of our lives this way, never looking below the surface, never grasping the complete and true meaning of most anything. With the mechanism of unfettered, unquestioned capitalism the reigning societal model in the 20th (and even more so now in the 21st) century, this uniformity is fast becoming the only acceptable model, in his (and my) view. Thus the very impetus that drives the novel--and all art--is, in his view (and my view) dying, if not dead.

Those stuck in the tyranny of kitsch may object: there are plenty of novels out there--Anne Rice and JK Rowlings and Ken Follett and Tom Clancey. Those are the purveyers of kitsch Kundera was talking about. To wit, jazz, another art form, is dead. Sure we have Wynton Marsalis et al, but they haven't advanced the art one iota. Lennie Tristano did and the world is still almost completely unfamiliar with his work, because jazz listeners aren't ready for real advances in the art; they'd prefer prepackaged familiarity being offered as advances. *That* Kundera would define as kitsch. Occasionally a true iconoclast breaks through the mold--Thelonious Monk--but they are usually celebrated more for their eccentricities than appreciated for their actual contribution, except from a small core of people. Of course there are exceptions to this grim scenario, but they tend to just prove the rule.

This will be a bitter pill for most people to accept or even understand. To do so you have to look at *everything* differently and not accept anything at face value. People who do that are usually labeled "elite" and "pretentious." And as "market democracy," defined as the relatively uneducated masses with increasing disposable incomes, continue to grow (China, India, S. Korea, Brazil, Taiwan), look for kitsch, and the "received wisdom" contained in it, to increase.

Furthermore, Kundera's despair, if I may call it that (for he doesn't, but I get that feeling from him) is that most people don't understand the difference, cannot distinguish kitsch, insincerity, even if you explain it to them, distinguish it for them. They are too lost in the realm of emotions, defending themselves from what they perceive as a personal intellectual attack, a "pissing contest" of the minds. It is supremely ironic, then, that it is they who call others who make this distinction "pretentious," when the very meaning of the word reflects more upon them. By just fitting in with everyone else they are the ones harboring pretense, because they are just aping the behavior of everyone around them, or at the very least endorsing the superficial reality that Kundera discusses, and that he believes it's the novel's duty to overcome. This is a rather cerebral argument, however, and I don't expect it to resonate widely. If economics is the dismal science, art is the equivalent in the world of the aesthetic.

And so it goes. Kundera has cogently summed up the dilemma of his age. The Sixth part alone is worth the price of the book, and the summation of his philosophy of art in the Seventh is brilliant, with a perfect finishing observation that puts everything he has previously said into perspective--in one sentence he smashes to bits the modern wisdom of the premise of cultural-relativism. After closing this book I felt like I had spent an afternoon with an extremely thoughtful person who had seen a great deal and thought deeply about it. One can see how the forces of Communism shaped his values and concerns--our market-driven ones of today are alien to him, and we are the poorer for it. Too bad there are so few, if any, Kunderas anymore. Yes, he's still alive, but at 79, he's hardly a new voice or fresh mind, and to whom he'll leave his intellectual legacy is anyone's guess. And many would consider such concerns to be pretentious anyway.

Someone who previewed this review said it reads more like a philosophical discussion than a book review. That makes sense, since a philosophical discussion is precisely what Kunder'a book is. Perhaps a better title might have been "The Philosophy of the Novel"?

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Fascinating

This book is amazing. Like all other books of Kundera (some I've read myself, of some read summaries and reviews), this book too conveys the simplest philosophies in the best of words. For example, when he explains 'vertigo', you'll know his unique interpretation of things happening around. A must read for all literature lovers and will certainly make an interesting reading for those looking for a different definition or dimension of oft-repeated terms in English.

A Lost View of the Novel

This is a good and insightful book. Because each chapter was written under different circumstances some may find it disjointed, but their is an underlying understanding of the novel that is coherent and profound. Kundera goes all the way back to Cervantes and show us how novelists have perceived and influenced the world down to our time. We pick up some central European novelists, like Hermann Bosch's trilogy, The Sleepwalkers, scandalously unknown in this country. Kundera shows us how novels occupy a role in culture were nothing else can go. A book well worth reading.

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Fascinating

A highly interesting and introspective piece into the art of novel writing from one of Europe's finest contemporary authors, Mulan Kundera. His philosophical background is particularly impressive has he attempts to relate back the meaning of his work to existential and phenomenological origins in Husserl, Heidegger, and Nietzsche. I also particularly enjoyed Kundera's comparisons of literature to music in which he describes the forms of multiple Beethoven compositions as well as the basic structures of his own novels. This is an enormously stimulating read, though not necessarily helpful for the blossoming writer.

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reviews: page 1, 2, 3, 4

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