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Ignorance: A Novel Hardcover – Deckle Edge, December 3, 2007
“Kundera once more delivers a seductive, intelligent entertainment … [with] elegance and grace.” — Washington Post Book World
“Nothing short of masterful.” — Newsweek
A brilliant novel set in contemporary Prague, by one of the most distinguished writers of our time.
A man and a woman meet by chance while returning to their homeland, which they had abandoned 20 years earlier when they chose to become exiles. Will they manage to pick up the thread of their strange love story, interrupted almost as soon as it began and then lost in the tides of history? The truth is that after such a long absence “their memories no longer match.” We always believe that our memories coincide with those of the person we loved, that we experienced the same thing. But this is just an illusion. Only those who return after 20 years, like Ulysses returning to his native Ithaca, can be dazzled and astounded by observing the goddess of ignorance first-hand.
Kundera is the only author today who can take dizzying concepts such as absence, memory, forgetting, and ignorance, and transform them into material for a novel, masterfully orchestrating them into a polyphonic and moving work.
Amazon.com Review
From Publishers Weekly
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From Library Journal
--Christopher Tinney, Brooklyn
Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc.
From Booklist
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Review
“Erudite and playful...An impassioned account of the émigré as a character on the stage of European history.” — Maureen Howard, New York Times Book Review
“Milan’s Kundera’s resonant new novel IGNORANCE ….[is] wonderfully nuanced …. affecting.” — Michiko Kakutani, New York Times
“Moving … There is a painful injustice and inequality to memory, which these encounters beautifully illustrate.” — Boston Globe
“Literary excellence … [Kundera’s] irony and wit are …on target, his characters vivid and convincing.” — Los Angeles Times Book Review
“By far his most successful [novel] since THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING.” — Los Angeles Times Book Review
“Kundera once more delivers a seductive, intelligent entertainment … [with] elegance and grace.” — Washington Post Book World
“Nothing short of masterful.” — Newsweek
“[A] beautifully written tale of desire and loss.” — Newark Star Ledger
“Elegant … the emotional and intellectual payoff is extraordinary.” — Time Out New York
“Precise and spare …page by page this novel is dazzling.” — Montreal Gazette
“Rendered with compassion and humor.” — Library Journal
“An entertaining and thought-provoking work” — Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
“Kundera is and elegant writer … He does a masterful job of reminding that the political is the personal.” — Rocky Mountain News
“A tour de force.” — Atlanta Journal-Constitution
From the Back Cover
A man and a woman meet by chance while returning to their homeland, which they had abandoned twenty years earlier when they chose to become exiles. Will they manage to pick up the thread of their strange love story, interrupted almost as soon as it began and then lost in the tides of history? The truth is that after such a long absence "their memories no longer match." We always believe that our memories coincide with those of the person we loved, that we experienced the same thing. But this is just an illusion. Then again, what can we expect of our weak memory? It records only "an insignificant, minuscule particle" of the past, "and no one knows why it's this bit and not any other bit." We live our lives sunk in a vast forgetting, a fact we refuse to recognize. Only those who return after twenty years, like Odysseus returning to his native Ithaca, can be dazzled and astounded by observing the goddess of ignorance firsthand.
Milan Kundera is the only author today who can take such dizzying concepts as absence, memory, forgetting, and ignorance, and transform them into material for a novel, masterfully orchestrating them into a polyphonic and moving work.
About the Author
The Franco-Czech novelist Milan Kundera (1929 - 2023) was born in Brno and lived in France, his second homeland, since 1975. He is the author of the novels The Joke, Life Is Elsewhere, Farewell Waltz, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, and Immortality, and the short story collection Laughable Loves—all originally in Czech. His later novels, Slowness, Identity, Ignorance, and The Festival of Insignificance, as well as his nonfiction works, The Art of the Novel, Testaments Betrayed, The Curtain, and Encounter, were originally written in French.
- Print length208 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherHarper
- Publication dateDecember 3, 2007
- Dimensions5.62 x 0.77 x 8.25 inches
- ISBN-100060002093
- ISBN-13978-0060002091
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Product details
- Publisher : Harper; First Edition (December 3, 2007)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 208 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0060002093
- ISBN-13 : 978-0060002091
- Item Weight : 12.8 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.62 x 0.77 x 8.25 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #825,832 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #8,554 in Contemporary Literature & Fiction
- #38,385 in Literary Fiction (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
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About the author

Milan Kundera, born in Brno, Czechoslovakia, was a student when the Czech Communist regime was established in 1948, and later worked as a labourer, jazz musician and professor at the Institute for Advanced Cinematographic Studies in Prague. After the Russian invasion in August 1968, his books were proscribed. In 1975, he and his wife settled in France, and in 1981, he became a French citizen. He is the author of the novels The Joke, Life is Elsewhere, Farewell Waltz, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, and Immortality, and of the short-story collection Laughable Loves - all originally in Czech. His most recent novels, Slowness, Identity and Ignorance, as well as his non-fiction works The Art of the Novel and Testaments Betrayed, were originally written in French.
Photo by Elisa Cabot (Flickr) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.
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At some points his characters seem childishly egocentric, unaware of the irony of their constant lament, “No-one will listen to me. No one is really interested in what I have to say,” as they, themselves, show not a shred of interest in anyone else. This is particularly applied to the returning Czech émigrés:
The worst thing is, [the locals who had not emigrated] kept talking to me about things and people I knew nothing about. They refused to see that after all this time, their world has evaporated from my head. They thought with all my memory blanks I was trying to make myself interesting. To stand out. It was a very strange conversation: I’d forgotten who they had been; they weren’t interested in who I’d become. Can you believe that not one person here has ever asked me a single question about my life abroad? Not one single question! Never!
Where Kundera goes, perhaps, beyond this is in presenting this as a human condition thing. In response Irena’s complaint about the indifference of her erstwhile compatriots, fellow émigré Josef asks of her adopted country:
“And what about in France? Do your friends there ask you any questions?”
She is about to say yes, but then she thinks again; she wants to be precise, and she speaks slowly: “No, of course not! But when people spend a lot of time together, they assume they know each other. They don’t ask themselves any questions and they don’t worry about it. They’re not interested in each other, but it’s completely innocent. They don’t realise it.”
OK, sure, there’s stuff to mull over here (and Kundera is a definitive writer for mulling things over). Moreover he bolsters his case with suggestions that we can’t really interact – our perceptions and, particularly, our memories - even of the same events - are so unavoidably disparate. This particular issue is recurring for him – or, at least, there are real shades of it in this line from The Book of Laughter and Forgetting:
The invention of printing originally promoted mutual understanding. In the era of graphomania, the writing of books has the opposite effect: everyone surrounds himself with his own writings as with a wall of mirrors cutting off all voices from without.
Perceptive.
But, perhaps, blind projection – look at that wonderful generalisation of ‘everyone’. How far is Kundera presuming his experience – honestly and articulately expressed – is uniform? Take just the example from this extract: when people return or arrive from other countries, even other cities, in my experience it’s enormously common to hear them plastered (or, if it’s you, to be plastered) with questions about the experience, even to the point of the visitor getting tired of responding to similar questions. Sure some are just enquiring at a shallow, etiquette level, but many are genuinely interested in detail. I could be completely wrong – Kundera’s friends would know – but from this book I wouldn’t be surprised if much of these thoughts come from his own experience as an émigré, and that he wasn’t that interested in the experience of those who stayed, and was surprised at how little interest was shown in him. Many readers would be able to relate to this, but I don’t know how much of this is more about personality than humanity.
Other elements that make this sound more profound than whiny are: his assured prose style; educated description of subtleties of how different languages deal with the term ‘nostalgia’; and the classical motif of Odysseus. But I think this sort of thing is intellectually neutral, and, in itself, shows more about class than insight (cf. Fry’s The Liar). And even though he must have been in his seventies, he still had his trademark adultery (cf. Lodge) – also seen as European sophistication in an SBS sort of way. It doesn’t rule the whole book – it’s more of a coda – but I just don’t get how casually it’s viewed – like someone deciding to try out a new hairstyle or something. I did, however, relate to Joseph’s cringing at reading his old diaries, and Kundera is highly adept at evoking specific resonances like this. If you read him it might be something else, but it will probably leap off the page at you. That being said, overall this was a pretty meandering book – probably just as well it was more of a novella than a novel.
Kundera, as a romancier français, has been criticized for poverty of language. His French prose, critics have argued, is not as sumptuous and free-flowing as his native Czech. Gallimard has yet to publish a version of the original French, so I haven't had a chance to examine it firsthand, but it we are to trust translator Linda Asher (who has also done translations of his last two works), it is safe to say that Kundera is mastering his French more and more with the passage of time. Ignorance's prose is perhaps not as thick as some of Kundera's best Czech work (Life is Elsewhere and The Book of Laughter and Forgetting come to mind for their superlatively natural flow from idea to idea and richness of speech), but it is certainly lucid and not perceptibly forced.
Thematically as well, Kundera has tightened himself with Ignorance. In his grandes oeuvres, it was easier to explore depths of character and numerous themes in great detail. In the shorter format that Kundera has opted for in his French writing, that kind of exposition is not possible. Slowness and Identity (to different respective degrees) each suffered from this kind of overshooting complexity. Ignorance hones in on a few important topics, and does so in an clean, hierarchical way. The plot is simple and intriguing. The parallels with Odysseus and his Great Return to Ithaca are the next level his themeatic hierarchy. Overarching everything is, unsurprisingly, the idea of ignorance itself--what it means to be apart from something, to be out of contact, to be without knowledge, to forget. These thematic levels are delightfully undistorted in Ignorance, making for a much more clearheaded read.
Kundera gets back to basics with literary devices as well. The history of Europe, and especially of Bohemia, has been crucial in his best work, and it comes back to the forefront here. Communism and capitalism and their effects on interpersonal relationships is brought back into the fold as well. Explicating a theme via etymology is another old Kundera trick that is fruitfully taken advantage of in Ignorance.
While it's hard to capture in 200 pages what took his earlier novels 500, there is no doubt that Kundera has come back into his own with Ignorance. It's an indispensible addition to any Kundera fan's collection, and it's well organized and lucidly aesthetic enough to serve as a first exposure to Kundera as well.







