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3.9 AVERAGE
3.9 AVERAGE
The garrulous Josef Švejk is Hašek's device to observe and lampoon the disastrous, corrupt, horribly inefficient and pointlessly cruel army of the Austro-Hungarian empire in the Great War (1914-1918). Švejk's affable placidity in even the most extreme circumstances makes him an uncritical witness but an object of events rather than their active subject. He is sometimes amusing but also appalling with his endless stream of anecdotes about stupid and brutal acts he claims to have witnessed or heard about, whether in the army or civilian life. But regardless of the stupid brutality he personally endures, he remains always the same, in any situation, with no complexity or character development whatever. As one of his regimental comrades remarks after Švejk has reappeared after being mistaken for an escaped Russian prisoner and nearly executed,
'You haven't changed at all,' the volunteer said to him.
'I haven't,' answered Švejk. 'I haven't had the time to. They even wanted to shoot me, but that was not the worst. I've not had any pay since the twelfth.' (p. 733)
And the other caricatures — the insatiable gourmand Baloun, the ridiculously nasty and tyrannical Lieutenant Dub, and others — become tiresomely repetitious in this long, long stream (752 pages) of satire.
Besides the rampant stealing by officers and common soldiers whenever they have the opportunity, their casual abuse of civilians (by rape, robbery, or simply beating — especially of Jews or Ruthenians), the most striking aspects are the mistrust, competition and even open and violent clashes among the army's diverse nationalities. Soldiers from Czech regiments beat up Hungarian soldiers for sport, and the Hungarians reciprocate, sometimes mortally; besides these two ethnicities, Poles, Ruthenians, Slovaks, Gypsies and others barely understand their German-speaking Austrian officers, who consider themselves far superior. But those German-speaking Austrians resent terribly the haughtiness and better food and conditions of the troops of that supposed brother-empire, the "Reich Germans."
Hašek may have exaggerated all this for laughs, but probably not by much — he had lived through scenes like these; his own career, military and journalistic, is far more interesting than Švejk's, because unlike Švejk, he was a permanent rebel and prankster, an anarchist who became a Communist, always seeking the best way to upset the system. His unfinished, rambling book goes on long after it has made its points, and would surely have gone on far longer if Hašek had not died while dictating it in January 1923 — it stops abruptly, on the verge of nothing in particular. And yet it has been widely read and translated, and is still rewarding. The book's value includes its ground-level look at the absurdities and cruelties of that senseless war, and its stunning passages of bitter irony, such as this, during one of the many displacements of regiments by rail:
« Before the arrival of the passenger train the third-class restaurant filled up with soldiers and civilians. They were predominantly soldiers of various regiments and formations and the most diverse nationalities whom the whirlwinds of war had swept into the Tábor hospitals. They were now going back to the front to get new wounds, mutilations and pains and to earn the reward of a simple wooden cross over their graves. Years after on the mournful plains of East Galicia a faded Austrian soldier's cap with a rusty Imperial badge would flutter over it in wind and rain. From time to time a miserable old carrion crow would perch on it, recalling fat feasts of bygone days when there used to be spread for him an unending table of human corpses and horse carcasses, when just under the cap on which he perched there lay the daintiest morsels of all — human eyes. »
'You haven't changed at all,' the volunteer said to him.
'I haven't,' answered Švejk. 'I haven't had the time to. They even wanted to shoot me, but that was not the worst. I've not had any pay since the twelfth.' (p. 733)
And the other caricatures — the insatiable gourmand Baloun, the ridiculously nasty and tyrannical Lieutenant Dub, and others — become tiresomely repetitious in this long, long stream (752 pages) of satire.
Besides the rampant stealing by officers and common soldiers whenever they have the opportunity, their casual abuse of civilians (by rape, robbery, or simply beating — especially of Jews or Ruthenians), the most striking aspects are the mistrust, competition and even open and violent clashes among the army's diverse nationalities. Soldiers from Czech regiments beat up Hungarian soldiers for sport, and the Hungarians reciprocate, sometimes mortally; besides these two ethnicities, Poles, Ruthenians, Slovaks, Gypsies and others barely understand their German-speaking Austrian officers, who consider themselves far superior. But those German-speaking Austrians resent terribly the haughtiness and better food and conditions of the troops of that supposed brother-empire, the "Reich Germans."
Hašek may have exaggerated all this for laughs, but probably not by much — he had lived through scenes like these; his own career, military and journalistic, is far more interesting than Švejk's, because unlike Švejk, he was a permanent rebel and prankster, an anarchist who became a Communist, always seeking the best way to upset the system. His unfinished, rambling book goes on long after it has made its points, and would surely have gone on far longer if Hašek had not died while dictating it in January 1923 — it stops abruptly, on the verge of nothing in particular. And yet it has been widely read and translated, and is still rewarding. The book's value includes its ground-level look at the absurdities and cruelties of that senseless war, and its stunning passages of bitter irony, such as this, during one of the many displacements of regiments by rail:
« Before the arrival of the passenger train the third-class restaurant filled up with soldiers and civilians. They were predominantly soldiers of various regiments and formations and the most diverse nationalities whom the whirlwinds of war had swept into the Tábor hospitals. They were now going back to the front to get new wounds, mutilations and pains and to earn the reward of a simple wooden cross over their graves. Years after on the mournful plains of East Galicia a faded Austrian soldier's cap with a rusty Imperial badge would flutter over it in wind and rain. From time to time a miserable old carrion crow would perch on it, recalling fat feasts of bygone days when there used to be spread for him an unending table of human corpses and horse carcasses, when just under the cap on which he perched there lay the daintiest morsels of all — human eyes. »
3.5 stars.
The story follows Svejk along his journey towards the Russian front during WW1. It is a good-humored, friendly tale, reminiscent of P.G. Wodehouse. Svejk gets into all kinds of bizarre situations but his "stupidity" always saves him in the end. You don't really get any historical background information, because it is all about Svejk and his sketches and stories. In the end, 800 pages of these antics (and the author died before he could even properly finish it) and get to be a bit much of this kind of slapstick humor, but when you read it installments, in-between books, for example, it is a lovely weird romp through the Czech march towards battle.
The story follows Svejk along his journey towards the Russian front during WW1. It is a good-humored, friendly tale, reminiscent of P.G. Wodehouse. Svejk gets into all kinds of bizarre situations but his "stupidity" always saves him in the end. You don't really get any historical background information, because it is all about Svejk and his sketches and stories. In the end, 800 pages of these antics (and the author died before he could even properly finish it) and get to be a bit much of this kind of slapstick humor, but when you read it installments, in-between books, for example, it is a lovely weird romp through the Czech march towards battle.
Opera lui Jaroslav Hašek ne dezvăluie spiritul unei epoci și sacrificiul oamenilor în slujba Măriei Sale. Împăratul, mizeria, sărăcia, disciplina severă în armată, jefuirea statului de către gradele ofițerești, depravarea, rasismul, anarhia, destrămarea statului, toate acestea sunt aspecte tratate ironic în roman,un ”manuscris” în care Primul Război Mondial este văzut prin ochii unui soldat, un ”tratat” ce a fost creat pentru cei cărora le plac glumele piperate, adesea grosolane, din viața soldățească.
An exceptional story that show us how fascinating human beings can be. Consisting of a quite blatant satire, Hasek offers us some good minutes of joy, amusement and plain laugh, as well as a sea of beautiful and exquisite writing. It is a must, please read it.
i wanted to punch everyone in this book, including svejk. but at least i wanted to punch svejk in a lovable way. he’s such a fascinating storyteller, even if the translation from czech fails to keep some of the original humor. all in all, a very funny read.
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#nofeartoughbooks
hilarious book. really enjoyed time I spent with Shweik
adventurous
dark
funny
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Evergreen humor about the horrors, ridiculousness, and futility of war along with the absurdity of the people that support it. Expect lots of tangents from Svejk, even commented on by other characters
slow-paced
funny
lighthearted
funny
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes