I read this book ~30 years ago in Duane Smith’s literature class in college. Smith liked to intellectualize novels, potentially seeing themes and connections that the author never intended. Smith was a professor of literature, afterall. Re-reading this book now as a middle-aged adult, I wondered if I would take away more from it than I did as a college kid just looking to finish the class. Kundera is fairly blatant that what happens in the book––the plot and such––is simply there as a vessel to express underlying themes/ideas he’s interested in. That may be the case with many books, but it was so apparent in Kundera’s novel that I found myself somewhat disconnected from the goings on, distracted by my attempts to try and suss out what he’s really aiming to convey. I’m certain I missed most of what I was supposed to understand. My general takeaway was that humans spend an inordinate amount of time looking to the past in order to find purpose and meaning in life. When we forget things, are we reducing the meaning of our life? Should we place less weight on the past? Laughter to Kundera is a sort of break from reality. It’s an acknowledgement that we’re all lost and what’s so deeply meaningful in the moment usually isn’t that meaningful. It soon becomes the past. And the importance of the past comes across as a bit of mystery. Kundera comes off as a perv of sorts, with much of the text referencing infidelity, describing various sexual encounters and emphasizing the female body. There is also a late 1960’s Czech-Russian socio-political backdrop that I’m not up to speed on, nor was really interested in. So, all in all, I appreciated Kundera’s skill as a deft writer. The stories on the surface were so-so, but I appreciated the underlying notions. I’m not interested in doing a ton of online research to learn what I missed, although I’ll probably do some. There is an enchanting, somewhat haunting aftertaste that makes one think back about the book. Where’s Duane Smith when you need him?