Review: The Book of Laughter and Forgetting - Milan Kundera

Hello, did you miss me? I have been gone for longer than I expected. But I am back, hurrah! And I am reviewing my K for the A-to-Z Challenge 2015, which was The Book of Laughter and Forgetting by Milan Kundera. This was supposed to be really good, but if you follow me on Goodreads, you would realise I didn't enjoy it and gave it 2 stars. Here is why:

Where to begin... well to start with, I like the cover! Very pretty, and it was drawn by Milan Kundera himself! Alas, that is one of few redeeming qualities.
Telling a series of tales of hedonism and oppression in Prague during the Soviet control, this book was praised by many authors, including another author I have issues with (Salman Rushdie), which immediately concerned me. Those concerns were not wholly unfounded. There was meant to be an underlying theme throughout the whole thing which permeates poignant meaning... what was it, may I ask? I obviously missed something. All I could see through the fog of perverse behaviour, settings and descriptions were twisted opinions, annoying pomp and unsettling eroticism. I feel quite uneasy at having dodged something in this novel which is so potent... maybe I take things too literally. I don't know; either way I didn't like the book.
I don't see how a woman, isolated on an island, being fiddled and apparently raped by a horde of children has a meaning... and whatever the meaning is that I couldn't scrape from the context, I'm not entirely sure I want to know what it is. I also severely hope that Kundera was being sarcastic with some of the garbage the characters he wrote in spouted: justifying misogyny as the only true form of rational masculinity, glamourising and romanticising rape... to name but two. There was no discernible plot (which I think is important, despite my knowing that this book is a collation of tales), the ideas jolted erratically between each other, it was really rather confusing, and ultimately, quite dull. The light in the darkness of this novel is that the writing, when you actually got around to understanding what on earth he was on about, is actually very good. I did, in parts, feel a spark of excitement and interest in the plight of some of the characters, before those sparks were extinguished and the story line deranged into some peculiar farce.
Overall, I did not like it, and struggled through it. I feel slightly bad for slating it thus, especially considering its apparent popularity, but it is my opinion. I realise now that it is called The Book of Laughter and Forgetting because the story is laughable and the book forgettable!

Thank you for sticking here until the end of my slander, I appreciate the devotion. If you have a differing opinion to mine, which would not surprise me, leave it in the comments below! I would be interested to see what you thought. Like, comment, follow, and until next time, vaarwel.