The unbearable lightness of being bad and boujee

Early today, I was listening to one of my personal favorite songs, bad and boujee by the rap trio, migos. The song describes how one of the rappers "women" are "bad and boujee". I thought to myself, Tomas is a "bad" character and Tereza is more of a "boujee" character. Tomas is "bad" because he enjoys a life that does not require him to attach meaning to anything, specifically woman. Tomas does not let any of his relationships with woman go further than a physical attraction, thus he is "bad". To be boujee, one has a "need for luxury and materialistic items"; Tereza is not necessarily in need of gaudy things; however, one who has a need for materialistic things has attached some sort of meaning to these materials. Tereza prefers to attach meaning to aspects of her life; henceforth, Tereza is to some extent "boujee".

Recurring Words

The very concept of motifs recurs in The Unbearable Lightness of Being (which in itself is interesting).  So do the simple words associated with those motifs, which I think is an strong stylistic choice on Kundera’s part.  For example, the concept of “lightness of being” comes up time and again in the novel; but so does the simple word “light,” in many forms.  This light sometimes refers to “light” as in feeling weightless, but it also refers to “light” as in visible light.  One example of that is the lamp described at the end of the novel.  Another word that recurs is “unbearable,” which carries a weighty significance throughout the novel because of the title.                                                         

Romanticizing of the Other

            Throughout the novel I found the romanticizing of the occupation of 1968 intriguing, especially that which came from Franz. I found Franz’s comments during the “words misunderstood” section of the novel concerning the occupation to be especially revealing of the outside perspective of the event.

            National identity often goes hand in hand with the experiences, and specifically the bad experiences, that a country endures. For Sabina, the occupation will always be a time of grueling turbulence. Moreover, it will be an intensely personal experience that incites a further connection with her country.

            Franz does not have this outlook. It is easy for him to see the occupation nearly as a work of fiction. His need to feel as though he has a degree of knowledge about everything presented to him promotes him to feel as though he is in a position to talk about such an event in a familiar manner. His familiarity makes his conversation with Sabina all the more shocking. His tone is not one questioning the realities from someone knowledgeable on the subject, or lamenting a country seeing a loss of identity, but one of false nostalgia.

Sisyphus's Rock

            Early in our discussion of The Unbearable Lightness of Being, the story of Sisyphus and his rock was brought up. To me, the rock represents all of the things that ultimately have little or no consequence in our futures; moreover, it is human nature to involve or even obsess over things that are seemingly inconsequential.  I find it interesting as well that the characters in the novel have a rock of their own, specifically Tomas and Tereza, whose identities are tied up in their pursuits.

            The rock that Tomas is condemned to push with no return may be his sexual exploits. While he might not see it as a condemnation, everyone who lives within the realm of Tomas’s affairs end up having little or no significance in his life. Sabina is the only mistress who has a lasting, significant impact on him, but even she transcends the circle of affairs. It is, after all, Tereza who is the most dictating force in Tomas’s life outside of himself, and it is she whom he dies with.

            Tereza’s efforts are consistently expended on attaching sentimentality unto everything she can. She tries ardently to make even the smallest things weighty and meaningful, such as coincidences and her routines. Her efforts to impose meaning, however, are proved somewhat inconsequential when she moves to the country. There, her former routines and all of the little things she deemed meaningful fall into the void of her past, and the truly meaningful things are the ones that stay with her, like Karenin and Tomas. Ultimately, however, the unbearable lightness of losing her tethers is exposed after her death, as it gives rise to the idea that even the most meaningful things to us are still subject to our mortality, which is the fall of Tereza’s rock.

A Work Against Kitsch

Throughout the Unbearable Lightness of Being there is an obvious sense of negativity concerning the concept of kitsch, especially with Sabina. Sabina herself is guided by the avoidance of kitsch, and the artifice that comes with it.

            However, if you look at the novel as a whole, the entire piece is a work against kitsch. Milan Kundera maintains a complete honesty throughout the novel, discussing things that would be considered crude and unglamorous. Kundera consistently avoids any form of escapism, which would bring about a façade, and narrates the stories of four distinctly real people (distinctly real meaning that they are not void of our natural human tendencies and imperfections).

            Kundera’s characters aren’t necessarily characters that would appeal to the general public either. From a personal perspective, people might find Tomas’s sexual exploits distasteful, Tereza’s attachments overbearing, Franz’s obsession with women disturbing, and Sabina’s lack of concern with communism compared to kitsch unbelievable. However, contradictions are what bring about personal identity, and personal identity in the enemy of kitsch.

Independence vs. Dependence

I feel pity for Tereza and her plight, but not in the same way Tomas pities her. Tomas sees Tereza as a helpless child, a representation of the children in need of rescuing in many ancient myths. I see her as a woman absolutely consumed by love that she can’t even establish her own independence akin to Sabina. Sabina is emotionally stable, a thriving artist leading her own life, however questionable it may be. Tereza “offers her life” up to Tomas and endures his betrayals. I find it unfortunate that photography, to Tereza, primarily meant “getting at ‘something higher’ and living beside Tomas" since her street pictures of the Soviet military occupation are so significant. When she departs Zurich and returns to Prague, she does so secretly hoping he would follow her back (she admits this herself). She equates herself with her “weak” country and goes back to said country despite its state of political turmoil and oppression, which is so illogical and dangerous. She can barely see herself as an individual. She can't love herself. Though Tereza and her mother are not the same person, they are dissimilar personalites living awfully similar lives. I feel echoes of eternal recurrence in this instance, but I know it does not coherently apply here.

Beauty by Mistake

When Sabina and Franz venture to New York, they discuss the differences between European beauty and New York’s “unintentional beauty.” Sabina uses “beauty by mistake” as the basis for her art; New York is “something different, something mysterious or abstract” like the red trickle of paint that becomes her “Behind the Scenes” painting. Franz wonderfully discerns and appreciates “the alien quality of New York’s beauty” but it is unfamiliar to him. He in turn yearns for Europe. While their discussion of two different kinds of beauty reveals something about the two characters themselves, I have found myself thinking of Tereza and Tomas as well. Throughout the novel, Tomas is in pursuit of the “one-millionth part” that differentiates other women from their gender. In a way, the chase has a “premeditated quality to it” like European beauty and Tomas has made it his “long-range plan” to obtain it. Beauty of the “one-millionth part” however does not apply to Tereza. Similar to New York’s fortuitous beauty, Tereza is unintentional, which reinforces the play between fate and chance. Tereza’s soul emerged from the ugly (only ugly to Tereza, who condemns the human body) rumbling of her stomach for Tomas to behold, and after “six fortuities” Tomas loved her. Whether Kundera intended this or not, the discussion between Sabina and Franz about Europe and New York, in terms of beauty, reflects Tomas’ struggle between loving Tereza and wanting to pursue the “one-millionth part.” That is not to say Europe is better and more appealing than New York or vice versa but that they are both different. Such is Tereza’s beauty and the women Tomas beds. But Tereza’s grief is not beautiful. Tomas’ infidelity is not beautiful. Because Tomas lives in lightness, he refuses to refrain from acting on his desires for Tereza’s emotional stability and because of Tereza’s heaviness, she cannot accept his erotic adventures. The complex “lightness/heavy opposition” throughout the novel informs the beautiful, ugly and political aspects of reality and who people are at their core.