The Book of Laughter and Forgetting

Milan Kundera

65 pages 2-hour read

Milan Kundera

The Book of Laughter and Forgetting

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1979

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Part 4Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of death, suicidal ideation, and sexual content.

Part 4 Summary: “Lost Letters”

Tamina is a 33-year-old woman who works as a waitress in Western Europe, having previously lived in Prague. Tamina is renowned for her ability to listen to her customers, though she doesn’t talk about herself. Bibi, one of Tamina’s customers, reveals that she and her husband are taking a vacation in Prague. This piques Tamina’s interest as she would like Bibi to pick something up for her. Agreeing to collect Tamina’s package, Bibi explains that she is writing a book. Tamina encourages Bibi to talk about the book, so Bibi explains that she hopes a local author named Banaka might be able to help her.


Later, Tamina calls her mother-in-law in Czechoslovakia. Though such telephone calls are expensive, the mother-in-law is annoyed that Tamina does not call more often. Tamina’s late husband, Pavel, placed a package in his father’s desk drawer, and Tamina explains to her mother-in-law that she would like Bibi to retrieve it. The mother-in-law begins to cry and wants to know more, which Tamina says it will cost a fortune to explain. She ends the conversation, promising to call again.


Tamina and Pavel left Bohemia for the West while taking a sanctioned trip to Yugoslavia. Since this was illegal, they left most of their possessions behind. In the parcel in the desk drawer are the letters Pavel and Tamina wrote to one another, as well as notebooks belonging to Tamina. After they fled Czechoslovakia, Pavel died, and Tamina—not knowing where she would live—had his ashes scattered. She is worried that she has nothing to remember Pavel by, so she wants their letters. She has tried a “special recollection technique” to preserve his memory (116), turning her customers’ faces into Pavel to fix his face in her mind. She remembers how he encouraged her to keep a diary during their marriage, but she was reluctant, believing that she would always remember their time together. Now, she wishes she had documented everything.


Tamina lived in Bohemia with Pavel for 11 years. In her mother-in-law’s house are 11 notebooks, one for each year. After Pavel’s death, Tamina tried to remake the notebooks, but her memory was not sufficient. She struggles to remember all the details, including two vacations which she cannot remember at all. Nor can she remember the many pet names Pavel called her. The past is all Tamina has; it defines her existence and anchors her sense of self. She would ask for the notebooks to be sent by mail, but she fears that they would be seized by the secret police because she and Pavel fled the country illegally.


To ensure that Bibi follows through on Tamina’s request, Tamina hopes to introduce Bibi to the author Banaka. She finds out more about Banaka through a customer named Hugo, who has a low opinion of Banaka’s writing and “bad breath.” Tamina hopes to introduce Bibi to Banaka anyway, so she reaches out to a philosophy professor who she knows to hopefully set up a meeting. The professor owes Tamina a favor, as she once allowed him to use her apartment to conduct an affair.


Tamina sets up the meeting, and Bibi is excited. She even wonders whether Tamina and Banaka might strike up a romantic relationship. Tamina has not been in a relationship since Pavel’s death. She knows that she would not be able to be with anyone without picturing them as Pavel. She is not religious, but she feels strange about offending Pavel’s memory. 


Fortunately for Tamina, Banaka is unpleasant and ugly. They meet at Tamina’s apartment and Banaka asks about Bibi’s book; Bibi struggles to explain it clearly. Banaka suggests that Bibi is not interested in writing a novel. He believes that the only authentic kind of writing is writing that conveys the author’s sincere point of view—everything else is lies and pretense. Bibi is thrilled by the idea of putting all her thoughts into words. Tamina hopes that the successful meeting means that Bibi will collect her notebooks for her. 


The narrator tells a story about a taxi driver in Paris. While riding in the man’s taxi, the narrator listened as the man explained that he was previously a sailor and was now writing a memoir. He hoped that his book might help people. The narrator realized that people do not write for their wives and children; they write to make their story interesting to other people. The narrator dubs the taxi driver a “graphomaniac,” someone who feels the need to write for an anonymous audience. He says that in certain conditions, graphomania can become a problem. It affects isolated people with lots of time who live in countries that lack social upheaval. Graphomania can exacerbate isolation, suffocating people in their own words and thoughts.


Hugo is romantically interested in Tamina. He asks her on a date just as she is contending with the many things on her mind. She is fretting about the expensive telephone calls she will need to make, but then she remembers that Hugo has his own phone. She accepts his invitation, and they go on a date to the zoo. Tamina is intrigued by a group of six silent ostriches. They flap their beaks, but no sound comes out; Tamina is convinced that they are trying to “warn them about something” (130). Hugo dismisses their behavior, claiming that they are just young.


Tamina confides in Hugo about her plan for Bibi to collect her notebooks. Hugo wonders whether the content of the notebooks might be political. Unsure how to convey her fear that the secret police might read her intimate writing, Tamina tells Hugo that the notebooks are indeed political. Hugo suggests that she tell Bibi that the notebooks are purely sentimental and contain “insignificant” love letters. Tamina is put off by the idea that such letters could be insignificant, but she appreciates Hugo’s offer to fetch the letters if Bibi fails.


Tamina goes to Hugo’s house, where she uses his telephone to call her mother-in-law. Her mother-in-law claims to not have the key that unlocks the desk drawer where the notebooks are kept. Tamina is not important enough to attract the attention of the secret police, but she does not know this. She also fears that returning to Czechoslovakia would somehow be a betrayal of Pavel’s memory. Pavel had been targeted by the government and betrayed by his friends as a result, so a return to the country would seem like Tamina is forgiving everything that happened to him.


Tamina remembers the day after she and Pavel fled Czechoslovakia. She woke up for the first time as a free woman, “marvelously alone” in a remote Alphine village. After Pavel’s death, she tried to reach out to their old acquaintances but received no response. In a dark mood, she tried to drown herself in the sea, but she survived and “resolved to live in silence” (134).


At Bibi’s house, Tamina, Bibi, and some friends watch an author being interviewed on television. He is speaking frankly about his sex life, which he writes about in detail. His discussion about orgasms enraptures the audience in Bibi’s apartment. Tamina places a call to her father using Bibi’s telephone. She asks him to pick up the notebooks from her mother-in-law’s house, but her father and her mother-in-law do not get along. Also, he has a fur coat for Tamina that he believes she should collect before the notebooks. He suggests that Tamina send her brother instead, so Tamina asks her father to ask her brother on her behalf. She ends the call. Her father never liked Pavel, and she worries that he might have damaged the notebooks that documented her marriage. The idea of another person looking through such private writings horrifies Tamina.


Bibi shocks Tamina by casually revealing that her vacation plans have changed. She is no longer going to Prague. That night, Tamina dreams of the silent ostriches. In her dream, she has a gold ring in her mouth, and she must not lose it. The narrator explains that the ring is a reference to Death in Venice by Thomas Mann, in which the ring symbolizes death, silence, and beauty. Tamina has experienced this beautiful, deathly silence before, the narrator explains. The dream upsets Tamina as she feels that she was being warned about something, though the narrator clarifies that the ostriches just want to talk about themselves. They are guilty of graphomania.


Banaka gets very drunk after reading a bad review of his writing. He arrives at the café where Tamina works and drunkenly insists that he no longer exists. The narrator suggests that he feels as though his universe—created through his writing—has been destroyed by another person’s intrusion. Tamina understands what he means, as she is terrified by the idea of someone reading her notebooks. The narrator reflects on the role and the status of a writer. Everyone wants to be one and everyone has the potential to be one, turning their lives into words so that they live on after their death. If everyone were a writer, the narrator points out, they would bring about “the age of universal deafness and incomprehension” (147).


Tamina turns to Hugo to retrieve her notebooks. He is desperate to impress her, so he shows her an article he wrote that has been published in a magazine. He keeps speaking about himself, trying to impress Tamina, yet—as she watches him—he slowly comes to resemble Pavel in her mind. Her stare “disturbs” Hugo. His bad breath shakes Tamina out of her reverie, turning Hugo back into Hugo. He agrees to bring the notebooks from Prague, where Tamina’s brother has agreed to collect the notebooks and meet Hugo. He also offers the use of his telephone to Tamina in case she wants to contact anyone in her home country. They may never have sex, he says, but he enjoys spending time with her. Hugo tries to have sex with Tamina anyway; though she is not enthusiastic about the prospect, she allows Hugo to touch her as she begins to picture Pavel in his place. She accepts it “as one accepts the inescapable” (151). At the same time, Hugo works hard to impress Tamina. As they have sex, they are both thinking of something else.


Tamina’s brother collects the notebooks from her mother-in-law. The drawer, seemingly, was never locked. Tamina’s father and brother both promise not to read her notebooks, though she suspects that they will do so anyway. The idea of her family members knowing such intimate parts of her life makes Tamina feel nauseous. She realizes that she will never be able to see them again, but she is desperate to get the notebooks back. Hugo feels let down by his sexual experience with Tamina, sensing that he can never truly possess her. He tells Tamina that he is thinking of writing a book about their relationship. Tamina stares at him, just as she does when she sees Pavel’s face in place of his own.


This unnerves Hugo. He feels a sudden loathing for Tamina, believing that she is profiting from her tragedy. He believes that she is just using him to retrieve the notebooks. He feels a sudden desire to rebel. Hugo’s article, he tells Tamina, is about power in Czechoslovakia. As such, he cannot travel safely to Prague. Tamina insists that he will not be in danger as no one will read his article. Hugo takes a political stance, proclaiming the necessity of his own work. Tamina becomes so angry with Hugo that she runs to the bathroom to vomit. Even worse, she can no longer picture Pavel in her mind—all she can visualize is Hugo’s genitals. Tamina becomes silent. She leaves, returning to her life in the café. Tamina never speaks to anyone in Prague ever again.

Part 4 Analysis

“Lost Letters” turns authorship into a parable about authenticity in exile, linking artistic creation to Exile and the Fragmentation of Identity. Banaka tells Bibi that novels are “the fruit of a human illusion” (123-24), telling her to write only what she truly knows from within, not what she pretends to know about others. This discussion the moral limit on representation reverberates in The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, in which the narrator increasingly intrudes in the action. He confirms Tamina’s experience of exile with his own experiences of life in exile. In doing so, he is following Banaka’s advice. Yet exile corrodes even first-person certainty. Tamina’s struggle to remember her husband’s face from memory echoes the struggles of a writer who is far from home. Tamina attempts to reconstruct her late husband’s features by projecting them onto the faces of other people; similarly, the narrator is trying to remember his homeland by projecting his memories onto characters.


This section is a reflection on the nature of exile. Tamina wants to retrieve her parcel of notebooks, but she must navigate the many barriers in her way. This becomes a symbol for the impossibility of recovering the past, as every attempt is thwarted by hostile relatives, fear, and expense. Her experience paints exile as not escape but a withdrawal into a life where the past is both near and ungraspable. When Tamina tries to explain herself, people abroad prefer abstractions about her country to the singularity of her experience, so she resorts to simplifications that feel false. At home, the community she left has sealed itself against her. The narrator explains that after her husband was hounded from work, “no one defended him” (133), and former colleagues later signed a public slander to keep their jobs. The narrator parallels Tamina’s condition with his own, noting that distance, fear, and shame do the work of censorship by performing erasure themselves. Even “graphomania,” the Western obsession with producing stories about the self, echoes Tamina’s solitude: People “surrounded by [their] own words as by a wall of mirrors” cannot hear the pleas of the exiled (128). Part 4 thus examines the theme of The Politics of Memory and Erasure from the perspective of the exile.


At its core, Part 4 is a study of grief and memory. Tamina is mourning not only the man she loved but her life that ended with him. She wants the parcel because she “does not want to give back to the past its poetry” but “its lost body” (119), a fierce insistence that her husband’s death must not be aestheticized into consoling words. Her daily memory exercises reflect her desperate attempts to hold onto the memory of her husband by projecting his face onto everyone around her, which ends up magnifying her alienation and obstructing her real-life connections. The intrusion of the present contaminates these attempts: After sex with Hugo, whose bad breath and awkward embrace prevent her from thinking of her husband, Tamina runs to the toilet and vomits as the image of Hugo’s body replaces the memory of her husband. Her reaction is not prudery but ethical revolt: She sees the loss of her husband’s face as a betrayal, and her body revolts at the moment the memory is overwritten by a sensation that refuses redemption. By the end of the chapter, Tamina has resolved to never telephone Prague again. The line reads like a surrender and a vow as Tamina accepts the impossibility of retrieval. She will have to hold on to her memory without the parcel, without the calls, and without easily recalling her husband’s face; though her attempts to recollect her past are fraught with failure, she is determined to persist. For an exile like Tamina, the disintegration of memory leads to the gradual erosion of self that memory holds intact.

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