按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
that an author can write only about himself？ Staring impotently across a courtyard； at a loss for what to do； hearing the pertinacious rumbling of one's own stomach during a moment of love； betraying； yet lacking the will to abandon the glamorous path of betrayal； raising one's fist with the crowds in the Grand March； displaying one's wit before hidden microphones—I have known all these situations； I have experienced them myself； yet none of them has given rise to the person my curriculum vitae and I represent。 The characters in my novels are my own unrealized possibilities。 That is why I am equally fond of them all and equally horrified by them。 Each one has crossed a border that I myself have circumvented。 It is that crossed border （the border beyond which my own I ends） which attracts me most。 For beyond that border begins the secret the novel asks about。 The novel is not the author's confession； it is an investigation of human life in the trap the world has become。 But enough。 Let us return to Tomas。
Alone in his flat； he stared across the courtyard at the dirty walls of the building opposite。 He missed the tall； stooped man with the big chin and the man's friends； whom he did not know； who were not even members of his circle。 He felt as though he had just met a beautiful woman on a railway platform； and before he could say anything to her； she had stepped into a sleeping car on its way to Istanbul or Lisbon。
Then he tried again to think through what he should have done。 Even though he did his best to put aside everything belonging to the realm of the emotions （the admiration he had for the editor and the irritation his son caused him）； he was still not sure whether he ought to have signed the text they gave him。
Is it right to raise one's voice when others are being silenced？ Yes。
On the other hand； why did the papers devote so much space to the petition？ After all； the press （totally manipulated by the state） could have kept it quiet and no one would have been the wiser。 If they publicized the petition； then the petition played into the rulers' hands！ It was manna from heaven； the perfect start and justification for a new wave of persecution。
What then should he have done？ Sign or not？
Another way of formulating the question is； Is it better to shout and thereby hasten the end； or to keep silent and gain thereby a slower death？
Is there any answer to these questions？
And again he thought the thought we already know： Human life occurs only once； and the reason we cannot determine which of our decisions are good and which bad is that in a given situation we can make only one decision； we are not granted a second； third； or fourth life in which to compare various decisions。
History is similar to individual lives in this respect。 There is only one history of the Czechs。 One day it will come to an end as surely as Tomas's life； never to be repeated。
In 1618； the Czech estates took courage and vented their ire on the emperor reigning in Vienna by pitching two of his high officials out of a window in the Prague Castle。 Their defiance led to the Thirty Years War； which in turn led to the almost complete destruction of the Czech nation。 Should the Czechs have shown more caution than courage？ The answer may seem simple； it is not。
Three hundred and twenty years later； after the Munich Conference of 1938； the entire world decided to sacrifice the Czechs' country to Hitler。 Should the Czechs have tried to stand up to a power eight times their size？ In contrast to 1618； they opted for caution。 Their capitulation led to the Second World War； which in turn led to the forfeit of their nation's freedom for many decades or even centuries。 Should they have shown more courage than caution？ What should they have done？
If Czech history could be repeated； we should of course find it desirable to test the other possibility each time and compare the results。 Without such an experiment； all considerations of this kind remain a game of hypotheses。
Einmal ist keinmal。 What happens but once might as well not have happened at all。 The history of the Czechs will not be repeated； nor will the history of Europe。 The history of the Czechs and of Europe is a pair of sketches from the pen of mankind's fateful inexperience。 History is as light as individual human life； unbearably light； light as a feather； as dust swirling into the air； as whatever will no longer exist tomorrow。
Once more； and with a nostalgia akin to love； Tomas thought of the tall； stooped editor。 That man acted as though history were a finished picture rather than a sketch。 He acted as though everything he did were to be repeated endlessly； to return eternally； without the slightest doubt about his actions。 He was convinced he was right； and for him that was a sign not of narrowmindedness but of virtue。 Yes； that man lived in a history different from Tomas's： a history that was not （or did not realize it was） a sketch。
16
Several days later； he was struck by another thought； which I record here as an addendum to the preceding chapter： Somewhere out in space there was a planet where all people would be born again。 They would be fully aware of the life they had spent on earth and of all the experience they had amassed here。
And perhaps there was still another planet； where we would all be born a third time with the experience of our first two lives。
And perhaps there were yet more and more planets； where mankind would be born one degree （one life） more mature。
That was Tomas's version of eternal return。
Of course we here on earth （planet number one； the planet of inexperience） can only fabricate vague fantasies of what will happen to man on those other planets。 Will he be wiser？ Is maturity within man's power？ Can he attain it through repetition？
Only from the perspective of such a utopia is it possible to use the concepts of pessimism and optimism with full justification： an optimist is someone who thinks that on planet number five the history of mankind will be less bloody。 A pessimist is one who thinks otherwise。
17
One of Jules Verne's famous novels； a favorite of Tomas's in his childhood； is called Two Years on Holiday； and indeed two years is the maximum。 Tomas was in his third year as a window washer。
In the last few weeks； he had come to realize （half sadly； half laughing to himself） that he had grown physically tired （he had one； sometimes two erotic engagements a day）； and that although he had not lost his zest for women； he found himself straining his forces to the utmost。 （Let me add that the strain was on his physical； not his sexual powers； his problem was with his breath； not with his penis； a state of affairs that had its comical side。）
One day he was having trouble reaching a prospect for his afternoon time slot； and it looked as though he was going to have one of his rare off days。 He was desperate。 He had phoned a certain young woman about ten times。 A charming acting student whose body had been tanned on Yugoslavia's nudist beaches with an evenness that called to mind slow rotation on a mechanized spit。
After making one last call from his final job of the day and starting back to the office at four to hand in his signed order slips； he was stopp