Slowness by Kundera, Milan (1997) Paperback by Kundera Milan

Author:Kundera, Milan [Kundera, Milan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Philosophy, Classics, Contemporary
Amazon: B00JYHQ202
Goodreads: 132770953
Publisher: Faber & Faber
Published: 1995-01-12T08:00:00+00:00

24

All this time, from the bar in the lobby, Vincent has been watching the target of his contempt. The whole scene having taken place some ten meters away from him, he caught none of the conversation. One thing, though, seemed clear to him: Berck looked to him just as Pontevin had always described him: a mass-media clown, a ham, a show-off, a dancer. Without a doubt, it was only because of his presence that a television crew had deigned to take an interest in the entomologists! Vincent watched him attentively, studying his art at dancing: the way he never lost sight of the camera, his skill at always positioning himself in front of other people, his elegant style of making some hand gesture to draw attention to himself. When Berck takes Immaculata by the arm, he can bear it no longer, and he cries out: “Look at him, the only thing he cares about is the woman from the television! He didn’t take his foreign colleague by the arm, he doesn’t give a damn about his colleagues, especially if they’re foreigners, the television is his only master, his only mistress, his only concubine, because I bet he hasn’t got any others, because I bet he’s the biggest no-balls in the world!”

Oddly, despite its unpleasant weakness, for once his voice is perfectly audible. Indeed, there is one circumstance in which even the weakest voice can be heard. That is when it is putting forth ideas that irritate us. Vincent goes on to develop his thoughts, he is witty, he is incisive, he talks about dancers and the deal they have struck with the Angel, and increasingly gratified by his eloquence, he climbs his hyperboles as one climbs the steps of a stairway to heaven. A young man in eyeglasses, wearing a three-piece suit, watches and listens to him patiently, like a predator lying in wait. Then, when Vincent has exhausted his eloquence, he says:

“Dear sir, we cannot choose the era we are born into. And we all of us live under the gaze of the cameras. That is part of the human condition from now on. Even when we fight a war, we’re fighting it under the eye of the camera. And when we want to protest against anything, we can’t make ourselves heard without cameras. We are all dancers, as you say. I would even say: either we’re dancers or we’re deserters. You seem to regret, dear sir, that time marches on. So go on back! How about to the twelfth century, would you like that? But when you get there you’ll start protesting against the cathedrals, as some modern barbarism! So go back further still! Go back to the apes! No modernity to threaten you there, there you’ll be completely at home, in the immaculate paradise of the macaques!”

Nothing is more humiliating than not coming up with a slashing retort to a slashing attack. In unspeakable embarrassment, amid jeering laughter, Vincent feebly withdraws. After a minute of consternation, he

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