The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Sabina’s “inner revolt against communism” is against its aesthetic rather than its ethics (248). It is to kitsch that she objects so strongly. She sees in communist society a feigned enthusiasm for collectivism, which she likens to a “mask of beauty” (251). For her, this is the definition of communist kitsch. She sees further evidence of kitsch in politicians for whom kitsch is the aesthetic ideal: They take every opportunity possible to present the image of a “man of the people” and one can often find photographs of politicians kissing children. Sabina sees this as performative. She understands that in many societies, it is possible to escape this performativity: Individualism is accepted and artists are allowed freedom to create as they please. In totalitarian societies like hers, “everything that infringes on kitsch must be banished for life” (251-52).

The decade following World War Two was, in Czechoslovakia, marked by “the most horrible Stalinist terror” (252). Tereza’s father was arrested by the secret police. In art school in Prague, Sabina was lectured by her Marxist professors on the virtues of socialist art; “Shit”—bad art, in their view—happened only in capitalist countries. Socialism had already made such great progress that its society was superior and its art should reflect that. Sabina longed to escape the strict rules of socialist realism in art, and she began to create works that, although they reflected socialist themes on the surface, contained a hidden, anti-communist message.

Kitsch is evident also in Franz’s idea of the “Grand March” of history, which the narrator describes as an example of “political kitsch” (257): an idealized notion that unites leftist factions of Europe under the banner of progress.

Franz is invited to a protest of communist oppression in Cambodia. The other attendees have traveled from multiple countries, and discord breaks out between the French and the Americans, each of whom speak in their own language without thought for greater understanding. It is finally agreed that a translator will be found, but this does not diffuse their tension and the arguments continue.

The group of protesters is bussed to the border of Thailand and Cambodia, where there continue to be disagreements between the French and the Americans, each of whom wants to be at the head of the procession. A French linguistics professor criticizes a famous American actress, claiming that the actress is there merely as a publicity stunt. A German pop singer comes to the aid of the actress, and a photographer who hopes to snap a quick shot of the pair steps on a land mine.

Photographers continue to jostle the protestors, hoping for the best possible shot. An interpreter with a megaphone calls over to the Cambodian side of the border requesting permission to enter the country. There is no response. Amid this chaos, Franz observes his fellow protesters and fears that the “Grand March was coming to an end” (266). The interpreter with the megaphone repeats her question two more times, and each time is met with silence. Franz is distressed by the impotence of their protest and has the urge to run screaming across the border. Instead, he is herded back onto the buses with the other protestors. His “Grand March” seems to have accomplished nothing.

Simon, Tomáš’s estranged son, is expelled from school because of his political activities and goes to live in the countryside. He and Tomáš meet, and although their talk is pleasant, the two do not understand each other particularly well. When he later hears of his father’s death, however, he is greatly saddened and writes to Sabina to share the terrible news.

Simon writes to Sabina for many years, even while she is living in America. Because she feels Tomáš and Tereza to be emblematic of weight, she includes a provision in her will stipulating her body be cremated. She wants her ashes thrown to the wind, so that she can remain light.

Franz and his fellow protesters arrive back at their hotel in Bangkok. While wandering the streets wondering what Sabina would think of the protest, Franz is mugged. He wakes up at a hotel in Geneva, remaining conscious only briefly before dying. Marie-Claude makes funeral arrangements. In death, he belongs to her again. Although his mistress attends the funeral, the eulogy glosses over their separation and paints a picture of an enduring marriage.

Both Tomáš and Franz end up with headstones whose inscriptions are not apt depictions of their lives. Simon chooses “He wanted the kingdom of God on earth” and Marie-Claude selects “A return after long wanderings” (276-77). The narrator sees the spirit of kitsch in this and argues: “Before we are forgotten we will be turned into kitsch. Kitsch is the last stopover between being and oblivion” (278).