Insustentavel Leveza do Ser (Ed de Bolso) - Linsou (Em Portugues do Brasil) das literaturas universais: e um livro em que o desenvolvimento dos enredos. Feb 16, A INSUSTENTAVEL LEVEZA DO SER PDF - A Insustentável Leveza do Ser. Front Cover. Leya Bibliographic information. QR code for A. In The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera tells the story of a young woman in love with a man torn between his love for her and his incorrigible.
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sábado, 2 de abril de às By: Fred Links dos livros livros p/ .. Treinando a Emoção para Ser raudone.info Augusto Cury. raudone.info Milan-KunderaInsustentável- Leveza--revisado. Feb 15, FANDANGO TURRIN PDF - Fandango sheet music - Soloist(s) with Concert Band sheet TOP 10 Related LIVRO O TEOREMA DO PAPAGAIO PDF SOLO DE CONCOURS PDF · A INSUSTENTAVEL LEVEZA DO SER PDF. Ecosia uses the ad revenue from your searches to plant trees where they are needed the most. By searching with Ecosia, you're not only reforesting our planet, .
And so, I started reading it, sure that soon a page will come from where the story will be fresh and unread. I was soon into the fiftieth page and was amazed that as I read each page, I could distinctly remember every scene, every philosophical argument, even the exact quotes and the sequence of events that was to come immediately after the scene I was reading- But I could never remember, try as I might, what was coming two pages further into the novel.
I must, at the risk of appearing boastful, say that the reason this bothered so much was that I always used to take pride in being able to remember the books that I read almost verbatim and this experience of reading a book that I had read before with this sense of knowing and forgetting at the same time, the two sensations running circles around each other and teasing me was completely disorienting.
I felt like I was on some surreal world where all that is to come was already known to me but was still being revealed one step out of tune with my time. In any case, this continued, to my bewilderment well into the two hundredth page. Even now, I could not shake the constant expectation that the story was going to go into unread new territories just 2 or 3 pages ahead of where I was. Every line I read I could remember having read before and in spite of making this mistake through so many pages, I still could not but tell myself that this time, surely, I have reached the part where I must have last closed the book three years ago.
Thus I have now reached the last few pages of the book and am still trying to come to terms with what it was about this novel that made me forget it, even though I identified with the views of the author and was never bored with the plot.
Was this an intentional effect or just an aberration? Will I have the same feeling if I picked up the book again a few years from today? I also feel a slight anger towards the author for playing this trick on me, for leading me on into reading the entire book again, without giving me anything new which I had not received from the book on my first reading.
Usually when I decide to read a book again, I do it with the knowledge that I will gain something new with this reading, but Kundera gave me none of that. What I do appreciate about this reading experience is this: Kundera talks yes, the book is full of Kundera ripping apart the 'Fourth Wall' and talking to the reader, to the characters and even to himself about an anecdote on how Beethoven came to compose one of his best quartets due to inspiration from a silly joke he had shared with a friend.
So Beethoven turned a frivolous inspiration into a serious quartet, a joke into metaphysical truth. Yet oddly enough, the transformation fails to surprise us. We would have been shocked, on the other hand, if Beethoven had transformed the seriousness of his quartet into the trifling joke.
First as an unfinished sketch would have come the great metaphysical truth and last as a finished masterpiece —the most frivolous of jokes! I would like to think that Kundera achieved this reverse proposition with this novel and that explains how I felt about it. And, yes I finished reading the second last line of the book with the full awareness of what the last line of the novel was going to be. View all 44 comments. View all 91 comments. View all 13 comments.
Jan 20, Weinz rated it it was ok. I spent part of my lazy weekend reading this book on the grassy hills of The Huntington Library surrounded by gardens, art, and beauty. Even the serene surroundings and my sensational reading date could not make up for this book. Weak characters, horrible assumptions, pseudo philosophy, and no clear grasp of how women are actually motivated.
Only wannabe Lotharios who pride themselves as philosophers would enjoy this. I tried. I really did. View all 47 comments. View 2 comments. It's rare that I come across a title and intuitively tag it as an oxymoron; rarer still, I continue to silently contemplate the space lying between the duo.
Unbearable Lightness. How is lightness, unbearable? But the oxymoron is further granted a neighbor — Being. And that muddles up the equation for good. What is Being? A floating mass of dissimilar silos, each absorbing and dispersing in surprisingly equal measure to stay afloat? Or a concrete str It's rare that I come across a title and intuitively tag it as an oxymoron; rarer still, I continue to silently contemplate the space lying between the duo.
Or a concrete structure of unified sketch without an exit, so everything entering its surface always lay within, if only in pale remnants? Just the image of standing immobilized over the bridge, with the reflections of lightness and heaviness banks running through our eyes like a movie, can bear a print of many, many people, the protagonists of this novel included. A whole lifetime of four intellectuals in the unstable Prague of s was spent in deciding the bank to advance to, although each assumed they had a bank in eye, propped by their distinctive weapons.
The doctor in Tomas and the artist in Tereza embraced heaviness of Being in their continued fidelity to each other with the ironic support of his sexual outings and her unvacillating desolation.
The artist in Sabina Tomas' mistress and the academic in Franz Sabina's partner responded to lightness of Being in their effortless freeing of each other's emotions in the favour of the adrenaline rush that uncertainty brings. On the surface, an intelligible lie; underneath, the unintelligible truth.
Everything that cannot be fathomed or fought, is labelled 'es muss sein' it must be. A whole doctrine can be poured over as guidelines to wade this stream, caressing the surface with strokes of honesty, love, fidelity and optimism and pushing lie, betrayal and cowardice violently behind. But it is way easy to mark the 'surface' and 'underneath' in a painting; nigh impossible in life.
Who knows what thunderous flash might turn either bank unattractive? Everyone who enters this cryptic stream is not looking to reach a bank; some simply grapple in the water, content by the thuds of moving waves of misgivings and contemplation that impart a certain momentum to their otherwise still lives.
I continued to look at these four figures that shrunk as the twilight ventured and I was left with this sombre feeling in my heart: But the icing on the cake is the concept of 'kitsch'! View all 63 comments. Oct 14, Robin rated it did not like it Recommends it for: No one.
I felt this book was contrived and to me it seemed as if the author tried desperately to sound intellectual. Instead he came off egotistical. First off all the meandering about Nietzche and quite frankly he set me off to start off by making statements I couldn't agree but he goes right on as if it is a trueism that everyone must believe in. To be quite frank the characters were boring. The prose was uninteresting. There was no emotion, no real depth, and how many times to I have to hear about hi I felt this book was contrived and to me it seemed as if the author tried desperately to sound intellectual.
There was no emotion, no real depth, and how many times to I have to hear about him pluking the woman from the reed basket - please! Another reviewer mentioned slogging thorugh life and this book - I couldn't agree more - it was a chore and that's not what we read for. I finally "gave up the ghost" so maybe I shouldn't review it since I've not read it all the way through but bad is bad, and I can't see how this was going to turn itself around. This author has created a facade - he talks a good story, with lots of smoke and mirrors with words that sound intellectual but there is no real depth there.
Overrated Rhetorical games, combined with recurrent references to Nietzsche and Beethoven, create an intellectual facade that seems much weightier than it really is.
Built on many false presumptions and bolstered by an epic, scholarly tone, the novel has potential to be interesting in its musings, but just can't be taken seriously as a work of philosophical or psychological depth.
I would recommend that people avoid this book - There are so much better uses of their time. Robin robin. Nov 09, Samra Yusuf rated it liked it Shelves: The paradox he is most fond of is the essential identity of opposites and he is never hesitant to express it time and again At times I felt kundera was desperate to done his philosophical musings in robes of an erotic story, he failed at both grounds miserably.
He writes beautifully, quite redolently even, he has that scholarly tone in his prose we so savor in writings, recall the sumptuousness of Marry Shelly in her Frankenstein but just can't be taken seriously as a work of philosophical or psychological depth.. View all 20 comments.
Jun 07, dirt rated it liked it. He was unable to identify himself with so alien and unfamiliar an object as the body. The body was a cage, and inside the cage was something which looked, listened, feared, thought, and marveled; that something, that remainder left over after the body had been accounted for, was the soul. Today, of course, the body is no longer unfamiliar: The face is nothing but an instrument panel registering all the body mechanisms: Ever since man has learned to give each part of the body a name, the body has given him less trouble.
He has also learned that the soul is nothing more than the gray matter of the brain in action. The old duality of body and soul has become shrouded in scientific terminology, and we can laugh at it as merely an obsolete prejudice.
But just make someone who has fallen in love listen to his stomach rumble, the unity of body and soul, that lyrical illusion of the age of science, instantly fades away. Only the most naive questions are truly serious. They are questions with no answers. A question with no answer is a barrier that cannot be breached. In other words, it is questions with no answers that set the limit for human possibilities, describe the boundaries of human existence.
View all 14 comments. Aug 18, Julie rated it it was amazing. Three hikers are out on a walk, and it starts to rain. Within minutes, they realize that they've been caught in a powerful storm, and they quickly find shelter under a rock overhang. As they are pressed back against the side of the sharp rock, they unknowingly perceive the storm in three very different ways.
Hiker 1 finds the unpredictability of the storm wild, wonderful and erotic. She knows that you can not control nature, nor would she be foolish enough to think that she could understand wha Three hikers are out on a walk, and it starts to rain. She knows that you can not control nature, nor would she be foolish enough to think that she could understand what was happening, what it means, or when it will end.
She loves the feel of the rain on her face and the wind in her hair. Hiker 2 is terrified by the storm. She is crouched down, eyes closed, hands over her ears, and she is convinced that they are going to die.
She winces as each bolt of lightning strikes down before them and her heart is racing in discomfort and confusion.
She wishes it would all go away. Hiker 3 is a busy guy, a man who had to be convinced to join the hike in the first place. He realizes that this storm will delay them by at least a good half hour, and, in his disgust, he refuses to speak to or acknowledge the fear or excitement of his fellow hikers. He feels angry that his time is being wasted, and he's anxious over the loss of cell service.
After the storm, the three hikers have three different responses to the storm: Hiker 1 goes home to write a poem and prepare a hearty meal. Hiker 2 vows to give up caffeine and swears she'll never hike again. Hiker 3 posts a nasty tweet disparaging Mother Nature from his car, as soon as his cell service is restored. Coincidentally, all three hikers were reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera, at the time of the storm, but the topic never came up on their walk.
They will finish the book at three different times and go on to have three completely different reactions to the writing. Ironically, they will respond similarly to how they responded to the storm. View all 29 comments. Nov 24, Samadrita rated it really liked it Shelves: Rarely do I come across a book which stubbornly evades categorization of any kind, managing to keep the reader behind a veil of mystification till the very end.
Like while you were reading, the book kept on giving you one insightful glimpse after another into the convoluted workings of the human psyche. But when it ended, whatever the narrative managed to encapsulate within the scope of a few hundred pages, vanished in a puff of smoke without leaving any tangible proof of its prior existence.
I Rarely do I come across a book which stubbornly evades categorization of any kind, managing to keep the reader behind a veil of mystification till the very end. I will, perhaps, be accused of being desperate about drawing correlations between the title 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' and my own experiences with the book, but as much as there maybe a little truth in that allegation, the book did make me feel exactly the way I stated.
It made me experience a sort of dizzying lightness after I was done with it, made my existence seem like an inconsequential matter, as if I am always making more out of my life than what it actually is, just the way Tomas, Tereza, Franz and Sabina did.
Essentially, this is a novel of ideas, so flexible and rapidly altering, that it can easily bend itself to fit whatever shape one's mind is in.
In fact I believe, different readers will arrive at different interpretations after reading. While weaving its way in and out of the lives of its 4 main characters and their individual reflections on various subjects, the narrative manages to capture the throes of a nation caught in the vice-like grip of Soviet persecution in addition to losing its way occasionally in a thread of philosophical rumination.
What constitutes real suffering? Is the threat of Communism spreading over Eastern Europe the real malaise leading up to the continuous cycle of oppression perpetuated by totalitarian regimes or are all political ideologies capable of sowing seeds of future conflict?
Are humans inherently averse to status quo or does there exist a general human resistance to both change and continuity? Does romantic love really entrench itself into the Platonic theory of finding the missing pieces of ourselves or is that just a mere attempt on our parts at dramatizing an utterly mundane occurrence?
Is love the end-result of a fortunate crossing of two different paths or is it an amorphous entity which rests somewhere in the realm of the incomprehensible and the ineffable? Don't we often mistake commiseration for love, imagine our emotional attachment to people and places rather than actually experience it? Milan Kundera leaves us with a lot of disturbing existential questions to ponder over but doesn't struggle to answer any one of them definitively, choosing, instead, to leave us in the middle of a fruitful discussion where the reader is as much a participant as the writer.
Perhaps because there are no clear-cut answers to these questions. For as much as we strive to fish out meaning from the jumbled mess of our lives, accord some greater significance to each one of our decisions, actions or sentiments, eventually every one of them is steeped in the fundamental need for some deeply personal, even preposterous wish fulfillment. Because human lives are composed in precisely such a fashion.
They are composed like music. Guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence Beethoven's music, death under a train into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual's life. View all 45 comments. You know those books that you finish and then immediately begin again because they were just that good?
That's what happened with Unbearable Lightness and me. After turning the page on the incredibly heart-wrenching last chapter, I needed to begin it anew so that I could savor those doughnuts of wisdom that Kundera tosses out like they were stale day-olds.
After reading the first few chapters of the book, I wrote a note to myself that said "If Love in the Time of Cholera is a representative of La You know those books that you finish and then immediately begin again because they were just that good?
After reading the first few chapters of the book, I wrote a note to myself that said "If Love in the Time of Cholera is a representative of Latin passion and willingness to fling oneself off the cliffs of insanity, then The Unbearable Lightness of Being is its Teutonic counterpart. This book is filled with enough neuroses, doubt and angst to keep Freudian analysts busy for thousands of billable hours and make the reader wonder whether love is even worth all of the trouble.
Then I kept reading and realized that my first impressions, that this is a book about love and it's fall-out, was a remarkably short-sighted interpretation of this grand epic. Sure, this book deals with love, but only so far as we can say that life inevitably deals with love at some point along the way. Kundera's greatness is that he attempts to chart the intertwining paths of life that groups of people take and how chance encounters that mean so little to one party can have profound, life-changing ramifications for the other.
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How one person can be cursed to flit through life living only skin deep, the titular Unbearable Lightness, while another drags their guilt and lust with them like some albatross strung about their neck. How national identity does shape who we are, no matter how far we run from the country itself.
Any review that I could write of this book would do no justice to the book itself. It is beautiful. It gives you hope for your own life and then rips it away at the last possible second.
This is a book that makes you believe that writing is an art form and the grandmasters of the craft are sorrowfully few and far between. This is a book that I know I will reread again and again as the years go by and experience reshapes me along the way, if only to see how these different iterations of Logan react to Kundera's genius.
View all 4 comments. Para duvidar Book Group Laddie 1. A good Europop lit-fic offering—a bit outmoded now, like Snap! But still compelling fodder for philosophising undergrads with higher aspirations than erotic encounters with their right hands.
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Paulo Passa e volta. Paulo O inseto no papel insiste. Basicamente um homem se apaixona por 2 mulheres. Vc gosta de ler? Ina Czech doctor with an active sex life meets a woman who wants monogamy, and then the Soviet invasion further disrupts their lives. The night he decides to do that Sabina and Tereza have a little get together as well; Tereza needs some nude shots to start a career and Sabina is willing to do that.
For him sex is sex, not love. Sapere Aude — Ouse Saber. Compartilhar no Twitter Compartilhar no Facebook.
Cress arugula peanut tigernut wattle seed kombu parsnip. Follow Us Were this world an endless plain, and by sailing eastward we could for ever reach new distances. Tomas continues his sexual relationship with her, Tereza tries to do the same thing but she simply is not like him. I was annoyed by this from time to time and I really can not understand it.To send to more than one person, separate addresses with a comma.
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