Mazloum

The Unbearable Lightness of Being is a very special book. I came to it not knowing what exactly to expect, I’d never read any of Kundera’s books before, and most of my friends -while confirming that it’s a great book - refused to tell me more, opting to tell me that I have to read it to know what’s so special about it.  I thank them for doing so. Upon picking up the book, and starting to read, I realized that Kundera has a very interesting way of approaching his story. He doesn’t go for the pure approach of simply listing events and characters, neither does he wax philosophical about motivations and motifs without purpose. He achieves an amazing balance between both, weaving events and thoughts together in a manner that had me hooked from the very first page.

I write to feel right. This is - quite basically - the reason I write at all. My brain is often a cauldron, within which thoughts are constantly frothing and bubbling, threatening to spill over the edges, but the cauldron is tightly sealed, and so the thoughts keep percolating endlessly, never surrendering, only giving rise to more thoughts and ideas until you feel like your head is about to burst. And so, I grab a pen, and with it I carve holes into my skull, allowing all the thoughts to filter through in an orderly (or not so orderly) manner, so that I can simply stop feeling like my head is three times its size, so I can stop grinding my teeth so hard that I feel my jaw giving way. I write to stop feeling angry, or sad, or tired, or even to celebrate my happiness or random bouts of content. I write, because I like words. It's ironic how I've managed to fail to find a word that expresses how I feel about words. There is no word, sadly, to describe that feeling you ...