Farewell Waltz audiobook

Valčík na Rozloučenou = ‎The Farewell Waltz = The Farewell Party, Milan‬ Kundera The Farewell Waltz is a Czech-language novel by Milan Kundera published in 1972. A French edition was published in 1976 and an English version entitled The Farewell Party. This novel mostly deals with love, hate and accidents between eight characters who are drawn together in a small spa town in Czechoslovakia in early 1970's.تاریخ نخستین خوانش: ماه ژانویه سال1997میلادیعنوان: والس خداحافظی؛ اثر: میلان کوندرا، مترجم: عباس پژمان؛ نشر تهران، علمی، سال1373، در259ص، شابک 9645989582؛ موضوع: داستانهای نویسندگان چک - سده20میکی از رازهای عجیب زندگی این است که، بی گناهان باید جای خطاکاران تقاص پس بدهند؛ لطفا، بازداشتم کنید؛ پایان نقل از متن کتاب ص251؛نقل دیگر: (مادری نفرین است، قیدی ظالمانه تر از قید میان مادر و فرزند وجود ندارد؛ و به علاوه باید فکر کنم که بچه‌ ام را وارد چگونه دنیائی می‌کنم؛ او به یک چشم بهم زدن به مدرسه خواهد رفت، و کله‌ اش پر از دروغ‌های محض و چرندیاتی خواهد شد، که در تمام عمر سعی کرده‌ ام با آنها مبارزه کنم؛ آیا باید ناظر تدریجی فرزندم، به یک ابله همرنگ جماعت بشوم؟ یا باید میراث عقلی خود را به او بدهم، و در مقابل، ناظر خوردگی روز افزونش در رؤیائی با همان تضادهای قدیمی باشم؟ و البته باید به فکر خودم هم باشم؛ در این مملکت والدین را به خاطر نافرمانی فرزندانشان، و بچه‌ ها را به خاطر خلافکاری والدینشان مجازات می‌کنند…)؛ پایان نقلموزه های غم انگیز، بازدید کنندگان کمتری دارند، این پیرمرد هم که به لاف زدن با واژه، بیشتر عادت دارد، از رنجهای بگذشته، گنج، و از آن دفینه ها، موزه ای غم انگیز سامان میدهم؛ مردمان را با واگویی خیال، یادمانها، خوانده ها، و گاه شنیده ها، به دیدار غرفه های غم افزای موزه ی بگذشته ی خود میبرم؛ قصدم این باشد شاید، که آفتاب، در پیاله های دیروز و امروز، با خورشید گفتارِ لحظه ی اکنون، وصلت کند؛ ا.شتاریخ بهنگام رسانی 02/10/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ 16/09/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی

“The longing for order is at the same time a longing for death, because life is an incessant disruption of order.” The Farewell Party is Kundera's third novel. The story has a very theatrical approach to comedy: we have eight equally obnoxious characters, none of whom have a central role. However each of them are a pivotal element in the plot. The characters are introduced one by one in a remote spa-town in Czechoslovakia, set in the early 1970's. Under the comedic theme of the novel, there are darker undertones of coercion, blackmail, seduction, infidelity and even murder. Kundera uses perspectivism to show each character's unique viewpoint and logic in carrying out their (often questionable) deeds. I absolutely adored the writing on this novel. Kundera's charming wordplay and his use of sexual politics are present here in its full glory. He also touches up on some political themes as it is written after the Soviet invasion and the crushing of Prague Spring.

Last night, when talking to God again, I posed a question atypical for its lack of fawning, begging, or pleading: "Why do You make such a joke of us?" The ceiling throbbed dimly above me, all shadows and cobwebs and barely seen whiteness, only slightly illuminated by the yellow of the streetlights staring blearily through the dusty windows, the tableau of small little shapes embedded in the ceiling could hardly be seen let alone differentiated, these misshapen pimples of paint frozen like a depressed and lackadaisical swarm of sleepy insects covered in cream, or cloud, or whatever color the paint was once named, the little bumps of stucco like small, barely sentient beings whose movements were so slow they didn't appear to move at all. A fitting vision, or at least it felt that way in the moment. Sensing a reply would not soon be forthcoming - so like Him, I thought, resigned - I continued on: "You sprayed Yourself upon this fertile egg Earth and so we were born from this heavenly shower, if that's not too salty a metaphor for You, we motile things moving hither and thither, created by the divine yet living our lives of mundanity, betraying each other, projecting our needs onto each other, hating each other while calling that hate love, hating each other while calling that hate change, hating each other while calling that hate law or freedom or safety, injecting ourselves into each other like You did to this poor Earth who never asked for such parasites infesting her body, infecting each other with ourselves, replicating more of us as is our imperative, or perhaps Your imperative, an imperative to always keep breeding and hating and breeding some more... You created us, but why didn't You just leave us after that? Why stay to laugh, to mock, to create a long-winded joke for which the punch line is not just a shaggy dog, it is a hairy ape, the ape that is man that will never get that it is not just the butt of the joke, it is the head and heart and genitals of the joke as well. Why Lord why? Why not just hit it and quit it, why stay to laugh at what You wrought?" After finishing my appeal, I realized that God had fallen fast asleep while I had rambled on. As He is often prone to do during my more lachrymose musings, sigh. God knows I can sometimes be a bore.I turned to the typically attractive faun asleep at my side and roused him with an urgent shake. At least he would hear me if He would not. As he was fairly used to this behavior, he woke slowly but with a minimum of grumblings. "What now?" he asked with only faint surliness and the beginnings of an erection. "I have an important question to pose," I said self-importantly. "And put that away please. The question is this: Our existence is depressingly ephemeral as is, must it be made a joke of? Our souls are fragile as is, must they be so aggressively manhandled by the State, by the Media, by the Community, by Old Men, most of all by our oh so humorous Creator and His private little jokes at our expense?" My companion smiled sleepily, his surliness but not his erection now gone, and said: "Oh, so you think we have souls? That's adorable." This was neither the reaction I expected nor the path I wanted to walk on, and certainly not at this late an hour. The fact of our soul's existence must be sacrosanct, sacred, or at least an ironic given, otherwise these jokes of God lack even humor to recommend them. And so I responded: "Of course! Don't you think we have souls? Are you such a godless pagan that your lack of faith has rendered you unable to acknowledge the intangible soul within this all-too tangible bag of skin, bones, hair, muscles, blood, semen, and brain matter?" He replied, horned and horny,"Ano, máme duši. Ale skládá se z mnoha malých robotů."And so I experienced another upsetting joke. If you like such jokes, you should read The Farewell Waltz. It is full of them! Eight characters in a comic roundelay, among them a doctor injecting his sperm into hapless women, a little God himself, creating a whole world of people who look like him and think like him, a whole world like him and the seven other characters who live in this angry joke of a novel, a whole world of characters fucking each other and fucking each other over, sometimes dying, sometimes loving, sometimes fooling each other, always fooling themselves, a whole world of insects except of course insects don't do such things.

Milan Kundera is such a misogynistic egotist, that it's difficult for me to remember why I liked this book so much, until I open it up and start glancing through the pages again. First off, the plot of this novel is amazing, hilarious, interesting, and totally unconvincing. Which is part of Kundera's charm, ironically. He utilizes these absurd characters, that are completely unbelievable, puts them in a situation that would never happen in a thousand lifetimes, and then these unbelievable events do happen to those unrealistic people amounting to a conclusion that forces you to question what we you know about morality, life, and murder. He does this very well.Either way, even if you don't like the man himself (his writing is very much a part of him), the story is still very entertaining.