*
Condolences to the families of the victims
of the September 11th, 2001.
On the 7th anniversary of the horrible event
in New York, I would like to present you a
part of a novel by a Czech novelist Milan Kundera,
as an inspiration for all who live in this world
after September 11th, 2001.
This is a part of his novel “The Book of Laughter
and Forgetting”, in which an old mother's tale is
mentioned: There is an old mother who is getting
old and losing her vision.
The tale about the old mother mentions the
Russian invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968,
which the mother in this novel perceived
in a different way with other Czechs including
her children.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Karel shrugged his shoulder in resignation. Marketa
was right: Mama had really changed. She was pleased
with everything, grateful for everything. Karel had
been expecting in vain a quarrel over some little
thing.
On a walk a day or two before, she had gazed into
the distance and asked: “What is that pretty
little white village over there?”It wasn't a vill-
age, just boundary stones. Karel took pity on his
mother, whose sight was diminishing.
But her faulty vision seemed to express something
more basic: what appeared large to them, she found
small; what they took for boundary stones, for her
were distant houses.
To tell the truth, that was not an entirely new
trait of hers. The difference was that at one time
it had annoyed them. One night, for instance, their
country was invaded by the tanks of gigantic nei-
ghboring country. That had been such a shock and
brought such terror that for a long time no one
could think of anything else. It was August, and
the pears in their garden were ripe. A week earl-
ier, Mama had invited the pharmacist to come and
pick them. But the pharmacist neither came nor
even apologized. Mama was unable to forgive him,
which infuriated Karel and Marketa.
They reproached her; Everyone sles is thinking
about tanks, and you're thinking about pears.
Then they moved out, taking the memory of her
pettiness with them.
But are tanks really more important than pears?
As time went by, Karel realized that the answer
to this question was not as obvious as he had
always thought, and he began to feel a secret
sympathy for Mama's perspective, which had a
big pear tree in the foreground and somewhere
in the distance a tank no bigger than a ladybug,
ready at any moment to fly away out of sight.
Ah, yes! In reality it's Mama who is right:
tanks are perishable, pears are eternal.
(Milan Kundera “The Book of Laughter and
Forgetting(Kniha smichu a zapomneni)”
Translated from French to English by
Asron Asher(Perennial Classics)1999,
pp40-41)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
This is the part of this novel I love very much.
Recently, I am reminded of this tale of this Czech
mother often.
One reason is that this year marks the 40th anniversary
of the Russian invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968, and
the other reason is that my mother is a bit getting like
this Czech mother.
But the more important reason may be that I have
noticed this mother is normal and we are all like her
in many ways.
Yes, pears are eternal.
We, who live in this world after the September 11,
are exactly like this Czech mother.
NoriNishioka(Japan)
