It was Milan Kundera who dubbed The Engineer of Human Souls, by the great Czech/Canadian writer Josef Škvorecký, “a magnum opus.” He was correct. I quoted from it in an earlier post, when I was part-way into the 570-page novel, and now that I’ve finished it, here are a few more gleanings:
The most incredible comedies are written by life.
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What we feel is obviously more important than what we know. That’s what we live for. We may think we live for wisdom, but in fact we’re living for the pleasure wisdom brings us.
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I am speaking in paradoxes, and they are only partially true, I know, but they roust the intellect out of its winter’s sleep of adaptation.
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I have not lost the meaning of life, merely the illusion that life has a meaning.
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Meaning is a compulsive neurosis. It is only when the neurosis goes away, or when we are cured of it, that we can live.
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[H]is sense of self-importance had radically diminished, and he had regained his sense of humour. It was gallows humour, of course, but perhaps there is no other kind.
This selection is completely subjective, of course, and doesn’t begin to capture the scope and depth of this wonderful novel.