This book is about a young man, Milan, in Bratislava, Czechoslovakia during the 1980's. His father is imprisoned as a dissident, Milan is a non-conformist and the Communist state is not his friend. Milan is in turns a hospital orderly and a hardware store clerk, when he is working. The story is intensely personal involving the reader in Milan's thoughts and feelings as he is confronted by the shocks of his eventful life. The story provides insight into the dreary and oppressive life during that period, but more importantly the author is able to make the reader feel the impact of the sometimes ordinary, sometimes traumatic events Milan experiences, and to make his discoveries, joys and anguish our own. It is philosophical as the main character tries at all turns to extract meaning and personal guidance from what he witnesses. It is also very much a love story and shows the great awe and mystery he finds in his girlfriend, Tania, and other women. This is not always pleasant to read but is gripping in the way that it unfolds his hazardous life without disclosing where it is going, if indeed it is going anywhere.

Milan, a twenty-something Bratislavian native, comes of age in this novel of life under Soviet rule. His father, imprisoned for political dissidence, is the reason that our hero is forbidden to go to college and is thus sentenced to a life of toilsome jobs. Divided into 3 chronological parts, we watch our hero: forever jogging and forever thinking--mature into a young man, but change and grow bitter in the process as well. A lot is packed into Simecka's slim novel. Milan's love affair with Tania is the only thing that keeps him going at times as he attempts to cope with his father's incarceration and his mother's chronic depression. The reader gets to learn a lot about Bratislava, warts and all, like the smog being so thick there that getting a tan is nigh impossible at times, or that the smog even prevents one from seeing the stars at night. Perhaps these starless skies are a metaphor for life under communist rule and how it crushes the human spirit. At first, we believe that Milan is irrepressible, but by story's end, he fares no better than the rest of his comrades. We get to see the absurdity of the socialist healthcare system; the chronic shortage of basic goods; the rampant alcoholism. Milan tells us what it is like to live in a bugged apartment, to be under constant surveillance and to have to have a current proof-of-employment stamp in one's Citizen Identification Booklet. The topical references in the story make it interesting as well. In Part 2, Milan tells of a time when he and his brother travel to Warsaw in the early '80s to see the new freedoms of Solidarity or like the casual remark in Part 3 (entitled "Gin") about the arrest of some of the Charter 77 members. (Hence, it is only fitting that Czech President Vaclav Havel pen the foreward to this book). By Part 3, still a young man, we see Milan beaten down, dispirted. His comment that the Czechoslovak nation has "fallen apart" comes as no surprise and at the very end of the novel, tiredly admits "The State has turned me to steel." Well done, Mr. Simecka. Now write and tell us what Bratislavan life is like now after a decade free of Soviet oppression!

This absurd play is both funny and tragic at the same time. Professor Leopold Nettles is about to be arrested for an article he wrote, and no one connected with him seems to be overly concerned. Instead, everyone he knows, and some absolute strangers, keep busy trying to make him into what they want. At one point he is given the opportunity to deny that he was the author of the article, which leads to some fascinating thoughts on the questions of identity, self-worth, and integrity. The play causes the reader to reflect on his or her beliefs about these things; it also serves as good insight into life under a communist regime.

A quiet understatement about the author of these letters from prison, from Vaclav Havel, president of the Czech Republic. And then how about this very telling quote from Simecka, Havel's advisor for Czech-Slovak relations: "It would seem that people have a greater immunity to unification than to viral infections."
Wise words from one of the foremost experts and prolific authors of Soviet marxism: Milan Simecka. Initially enthusiastic about socialism as a governing body, feeling it could move society towards a more utopian state, Simecka (who studied philosophy and literature at university) began his teaching career lecturing on marxism in 1954 at Comenius University in Bratislava. Over time, he and other Czechoslovak intellectuals became disillusioned with the Party and were eventually expelled. In 1968, he was fired from his university post and forced to work at various unskilled labor jobs.
Simecka denounced Soviet-brand marxism--(which he refers to in the book as "existing socialism')--in fact--all ideologies, defining them as "the real scourges of humanity..." He began to participate in dissident activities against the State, including writing and publishing treatise against totalitarianism, saying "I now advocate tolerance for all peoples."
His writings were smuggled out of Czechoslovakia into the West and Simecka gradually earned an international reputaiton as a renown interpreter of totalitarian regimes. Soviet authorities imprisoned him in the infamous Ruzyne prison in Prague in 1981, where he remained for 13 months. Letters from prison is a collection of 30 surviving letters from that era. Since prisoners were forbidden to write about politics, Simecka's letters to his wife, Eva, centered around either family concerns or long philosophical musings (his son, author Martin Simecka, figures prominently in the first section).
Although his letters were routinely censored, Simecka still managed to throw in a few oblique insults at his captors. Included throughout the book are several b&w photos featuring Simecka with family members or political figures.
As he was fluent in both the Czech and Slovak languages, Vaclav Havel appointed him to be his advisor on Czech-Slovak relations in 1990. Immediately after the Velvet Revolution, voices advocating for the "divorce' of Czecho-Slovakia demanded to be heard; Simecka was said to have been devastated by this separatist fervor.
Just six months into his new post, Simecka died suddenly of a heart tattack. Gordon Skilling, an expert on Czecho-Slovak affairs (recently deceased, himself), believed that "Milan Simecka contributed much to the fall of communism in Czechoslovakia."
This collection of letters greatly adds to the growing body of Slovak literature under totalitarian order. There is a biographical section on Simecka at the end of the book (would have been better to place it in the beginning) and a note from the translator, Gerald Turner. Turner, whom some readers will more quickly recognize by his nom de plume, "AG Brain," did an excellent, professional job in translating these detailed, sometimes abstract, rambling epistles from prison.

Perhaps our author's early years as a young Jesuit novice started out just as unusual as his early priesthood was destined to be. At 15 yrs old, Jan Korec, a native of Bosany (in the Slovak Republic) was the youngest Jesuit novitiate in his region; he took his vows at age 17 in 1941. Three yrs later, during the 1944 Slovak National Uprising, Korec hid out in a cellar in Trnava, reading philosophy to pass the time as the front line moved on thru. After that, he worked at a Trnava hospital caring for wounded Russian soldiers! Then while completing his studies at the Jesuit Institute, he wrote his thesis on Dialectical Materialism--irony incarnate, of course, as this is the official swan song of good marxists everywhere. And it was these very marxist followers who committed the horrors on that barbarian night of April 13, 1950 when the Czechoslovak state government shut down convents and monasteries and arrested religious leaders as "enemies of the state." Undaunted, Korec was secretly ordained a priest 6 months after this; the following year, he was secretly consecrated a Bishop of the Catholic Church. Over the coming years, he himself would ordain over 120 priests in "underground" ceremonies. Alas, in 1960, he was arrested for "treason" and imprisoned at the infamous Valdice and Pankrac prisons (he received early release in 1968 during the "thaw"). Even after his release, Bishop Korec lived under constant surveillance up until the Velvet Revolution of 1989. The 30 years he spent under the communist hacks make up the bulk of this book and provide compelling reading. Many editors and distinguished personages went into the making of this book; forewards are penned by Vaclav Havel and Pope John Paul II. Fotos are provided liberally thru the text, as well as helpful footnotes to events and persons discussed within. Korec pulls no punches either in naming specific commie villains (a pox to you Vojtech Filkorn!) and he weaves his prison experiences with other famous Church figures (Bishops Vojtassak and Hnilica) alongside him. Occasionally, the text gets bogged down with legal details in his trial hearings and individual's names are not always provided in a uniform manner with diacritics. NOTB is not a grim preachy and humorless read at all: Korec weaves humorous anecdotes all through his trials with marxist mayhem. You'll learn all kinds of things in this book: that Czech crystal was the product of prisoners working under duress and in unsafe conditions...in 1991, Korec was appointed a Cardinal in the Church (Nitra). Don't believe the naysayers who claim we have no heroes today--you just have to know where to look! For starters, then, meet Cardinal Jan Korec, a man who defied the machinations of a police state to ensure the survival of the Catholic Church in Slovakia.

Havel, president of the Czech Republic, first president of free Czechoslovakia after the Velvet Revolution, is portrayed in an attractive light by Kriseova, who evidently knows Havel fairly well. In any event, the glossary of names is useful for anyone trying to get a better grip on the personalities involved in Theater of the Balustrade and in the Velvet Revolution. A fast paced read, indexed. OP hunters: St. Martin's imprint is also on some versions of this book

Skip this insulting piece of garbage. I almost couldn't believe what I was reading! At one point Keane seems to imply that Havel's five years as a political prisoner, was nothing more than a planned political move to further his career. Mr. Keane definitely is not a historian, or for that matter, a good writer. What a pity that the book has even received so much publicity. A pure unadulterated insult to one of the greatest figures of our time. Shame on you Keane. Attacking this courageous leader for smoking and drinking habits. I wonder if Keane might have looked for a beer and cigarette after 5 years in a communist prison. Lastly, he criticizes Havel as a writer. Wow, this guy has some really big stones! He writes a piece of junk and in it criticizes one of the most creative and courageous voices of our time. This website only lets you rate from 1 star up, otherwise I would have given it no stars. A waste of time and paper.

I was recently in Prague and having read a Havel play (and being a fan of Kundera and Klima) I felt like I needed to know more about the man Havel is. Fortunately I am also interested in the machinations of power structures and how humans spin their webs. This was the main theme of this book, and Havel was it's main character. The chapter about Havel in jail was riveting, but I must say, throughout the book, I would have like more detail regarding the important stories that add dimension to his life, so I would say I should have read something else. Still, Keane's intelligence and insight connect Havel's life with the historical context from which he arises very well. I would say that this it the books greatest strength. I learned a lot, though not always about Havel.

Mr Rossman's review of Vaclav Havel : A Political Tragedy in Six Acts is most misleading and surely based on a careless reading of the book - perhaps even no reading of the book. It should be ignored. The book is very much richer and of long-term significance than he makes out.

After the fiasco of John Keane's revisionist / slash-and-burn biography of Vaclav Havel, it is nice to read a book that tries to summarize the real contributions of this man without all the fuss. Sire makes an honest effort to grapple with the political and intellectual complexities of Havel's plays and treatises. He also correctly understands that the English-speaking world needs a short and sweet introduction that is accessible to a variety of non-specialist audiences. If you happen to be teaching a world drama or a comparative politics seminar, and you want to spend a week on Havel, you might want to assign this book to be read in tandem with The Memorandum or "The Power of the Powerless." However, the book has significant limitations. The main difficulty stems from someone whose ghost continues to inspire trouble: Martin Heidegger. Sire is quite right to situate Heideggerian categories like "the horizon of Being" as central to Havel's thought and work. Unfortunately, he has a weak grasp on this discourse, both philosophically and historically. The result is that Sire tends to portray Havel as a kind of mystic throughout the book. Couple this with Sire's wish to offer an "appreciation" of Havel, and the result is a hagiography of an already familiar kind.
Until someone writes the 150 page introduction to Vaclav Havel that we need (Paul Wilson, do you have your ears on?), you should pick up Aviezer Tucker's The Philosophy and Politics of Czech Dissidence from Patocka to Havel (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2000).

For the person who knows nothing about Vaclav Havel, Sire has written a very good, basic introduction to the writings and actions of one of the most amazing thinkers in the world today. In a short space the reader is quickly introduced to the plays, politics, and philosophies of the absurdist playwright and political dissident who became the president of the Czech Republic. While there are a few points at which it seems that Sire may be imposing some of his own American Evangelical definitions on the terms that Havel uses, overall the book works well as a guide for the beginning Havel reader.

First of all, I just gotta say "Don't you love those Czechs?" I mean what other country would have a poet/playwrite/activist/ex-con president? Sorta makes me want to emigrate. Anyway, Havel's volume of letters to his wife, Olga, from prison in the late seventies is quietly revealing. I am used to his electric political comentaries and dark absurdist theater and this hollow correspondence came as a shock. Perhaps, most of all it was the shallow loveless relationship between he and Olga that surprised me. In my mind Havel is a passionate larger-than-life figure. I wanted, and expected, to discover a living and organic relationship in these pages and was utterly disapointed in that respect. What we see, and aparantly what they have (had? I dunno) is very dry, businesslike, and unmoving. I wonder if expending so much energy in the public and artistic sphere leaves little or nothing for private relationships. Perhaps that's what's going on, perhaps it is more complex or subtle. Whatever the reasons, the book was interesting as well as dissapointing in that it revealed a totally new and unexpected side of Havel. This book humanized him. As well as the troubled, or maybe just bizarre marraige, I got to hear him struggle with his daily frustrations and desires-food, health, writing, keeping himself educated and interested in life. There IS a good bit of of political writing in the letters, (it's pretty obvious that most of them were not just for Olga)including some detailed descriptions of the resistance movement, that are really as fine as any of his other writings. I could put it down to the dustjacket, but the whole had to me this sad tan feeling; heavy, still-like empty dusty rooms at that time of day where the light is all saturated. Well written and translated, all in all an interesting read.