It never occurs to anybody that she might have loved someone and the love meant something to her.
Milan Kundera, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting (95)
I am a person who laughs a lot: on the brink of despair, over a shared meal, once over an open grave, lollygagging on a patch of grass with my children, writhing in pain that time I fell down the stairs and broke my butt- there’s rarely a reason not to laugh. Milan Kundera’s novel The Book of Laughter and Forgetting is a series of seven stories that explores lives defined by loss. Its tone is melancholy and thoughtful; the searching and mapping of love, laughter and meaning overlapping throughout the stories.
Kundera’s musings on the origin and purpose of laughter is captivating- the devil’s invention and the misinterpretation of the angel’s imitation breaking one concept into two. The Devil’s laughter came first, according to the book, and was born of malice and relief, the angel’s is a reactive laughter of joy.
Whereas the Devil’s laughter pointed up the meaninglessness of things, the angel’s shout rejoiced in how rationally organized, well conceived, beautiful, good, and sensible everything on earth was. (62)
One word and concept to describe two very different ways of absorbing the world in all its complex horror and wonder. I can’t help believing that in navigating life, both are essential, and yet to think of laughter as having two opposing origins is fascinating, not least of all because it reminds us of the limits of our language in expressing the true depth of our real emotional lives.
But the word “border” in the common geographical sense of the term conjured up another border as well, an intangible and immaterial border he had been thinking of more and more lately. (206)
Kundera’s fascination, in this novel, with borders stems specifically from his status as a man with no country, as well as a man who has lost his father. I am mesmerized as well by the concept of borders, the tangible as well as intangible. As a species we spend an inordinate amount of time constructing them, and then an equal amount of time defining religions or philosophies that will aid us in forgetting them. All that demarcates and describes us comes down to a border. Whether it be nation, country, patrimony, love or hate. Where do I begin and end? Where do we overlap?
We are all prisoners of a rigid conception of what is important and what is not. (197)
Because we do overlap. In every way, messy and neat, we are joined together and it is the “rigid conceptions,” the intangibles that manifest into tangibles that really hurt us. There are no borders that can’t be laughed away. Even if laughter is a means of forgetting, it also brings us to a relief of exultation, the border between the two opposing concepts is just as porous as all the rest.
What’s beautiful about forgetting is that it softens the rigidity. Laughter’s beauty is our remembrance of our absurdity as well as our joy.