Drew Roulette, Dredg

So, should I live life to its lightest? Or should I live it to its heaviest? If mine is heavy, should I find a lover who is light? I feel heavy. I am attracted to light things. I feel light when I travel. I feel heavy when I cry. I need a light beer.

Aaron -- to flirt with your constructiveness, here are a couple more song titles for the Unbearable EP: "A Forgotten Lamp in the Room of the Dead," "Man the Cow Parasite," "My Hair Smells Like the Red Tent."

This book club, like the bowler hat, is a motif in the musical composition that is our lives. Lucky are the chosen few who dare tread through theses bearable bursts of expression that exclude nothing between God and shit. It returns again and again, each time walking away under the influence of a different meaning. I'm glad to be a part.

Why is it that we feel so heavy when we think of times when we have wronged or made someone else suffer? The heaviness comes with the ticks and the tocks. We suffer under its unbearable weight as if it is trying to make us feel like we deserve to be here. I think Tereza was definitely suffering while "Tomas and his lightness" (good name for an indie band) gallivanted around town.

In the end, she spent most of her time failing to bear his endless field trips with infidelity. With life comes many unbearable things, and when our loved one becomes light and wanders, it can be more than unbearable.

"There are books meant for daytime reading and books that can be read only at night."

I couldn't read this one at night. When I tried, I would feel the weight of my head sinking deeper into the pillow, wearing its feathers like headphones. It reminded me of the weight in my past. Though I cant complain, I haven't been involved in any bad relationships, and I think I was in love twice… but love chases itself down hallways upon hallways looking to remind itself of that one pure moment it shared with its reflection. And it exists on so many levels that we can neither catch nor define it. But with love's weight comes its lightness, creating a perfect balance if we could ever be so imaginative and/or lucky.

In the end I think this pretty much sums up this novel for me: "Perhaps all the questions we ask of love, to measure, test, probe, and save it, have the additional effect of cutting it short. Perhaps the reason we are unable to love is that we yearn to be loved, that is, we demand something (love) from our partner instead of delivering ourselves up to him/her demand-free and asking for nothing but their company."

Alas, thanks to Emily, Kundera now has to have reconstructive paperback surgery.

Stephen Christian, Anberlin

Please allow me to jump in at the last second, and while reading through the comments I noticed no one really focused on or took away the same heaviness from the story that I did. At moments this book felt like a burden that I willfully took on (and enjoyed). There was a perfect mirror I found in each character; through the flaws, the success and failure, I saw a reflection. The oppression of communism (not only in Europe but in the Thailand chapter) weighed on me, and again I took note of the freedom I have currently and was reminded me of how lucky/blessed I am because the fact is that in no way could I have my current occupation during a communistic occupation.

It really irritated me how flippant sexual experiences were in this book, as if when missing a meal and they became hungry and would grow skinny without a new "strange" experience. I wondered if this was projected onto the characters by Kundera through his own personal experience or through simple caveman longings that Kundera had and was able to live out vicariously through his characters like Tomas and Sabrina. But then again I wonder what the "drug" of choice would be in a communist country. Alcohol, coke, etc. It just feels like in spite of oppression sex seems like the likely choice for anyone.

The bowling hat reverberated with me very much so, not because of experience but that I found myself thinking about it quite often and in different social circumstances throughout the week. It seemed that the bowling hat represented trying to relive past romance (sexual). It is one of two things:

RE-CREATION: I wonder how many bowling hats I have worn in my life. Trying to recreate a moment I had with a former love because it felt so perfect, so much like love. I associated the location, food, experience with a feeling; once that human was out of my life I longed for that same feeling so with my next interest I simply try to recreate and never does it have the same effect.

THE COVER UP: There is a painting by Picasso in the Chicago Museum of Art called "The Old Guitarist" from his blue period. We have all seen it in a magazine or art book but what you won't see unless you are in person is that Picasso had started to paint a woman, but may have not liked it, and began painting the guitarist. At a certain angle you can still see the eyes and the hair of the woman behind him, and it looks as though the old man has his head buried in her chest.

Maybe we are trying to cover up the old memories with our bowling hat, replace what we had with someone so that when we look back in 20 years all we see are the memories with the one we are with, not the one who initially created the memory with us. The problem though rests in the fact that no matter how hard you try to cover up the memory when you are there in person if you stare at it closely you can still see the remnants; eyes, hair, and a chest you once buried your head into.

This book captivated my attention, attended many sleepless nights and even an ER visit. In addition, the discussion/debates on this book have been the best yet. Good selection, my friend.