Too Loud a Solitude / Bohumil Hrabal

[1914 - 1997] Fell out of a fifth story window whilst feeding pigeons.

"I drink to make me think better, to go to the heart of what I read, because what I read I read not for the fun of it or to kill time or fall asleep; I ... drink so that what I read will prevent me from falling into everlasting sleep, will give me the d.t.'s..."

It's a little too easy to just breeze thru this book; to drift thru its pages and then return it the library and forget about sad Hanta and his outdated paper press and outdated love of books. It seems like this story is the epitome of a modernized Czechoslovakian folktale, it has just the right amount of sad and funny, absurd and mundane. It's a book against progress and efficiency, its narrator upholds the old philosophers, like Plato and has visions of Jesus and Lao Tzu when he's drunk. The narrator is old and over-educated for manual labor.

There is one part in particular that endeared this book to me. It's when Hanta (the narrator) remembers when he was younger and thought all he needed to look handsome was a pair of purple socks worn with sandals. The first time he wears them, he is on his way to meet a girl and he steps into a giant turd. He takes them off, leaves them in the road, and runs away into a field.

Year originally published:1976. Pages:98. Translator: Michael Henry Heim.

Picture source.