From Library Journal
Acclaimed novelist Skvorecky (e.g., The Bride of Texas, LJ 2/1/96) combines his love of writing and of jazz in this story of an unnamed saxophonist whose overwhelming concern is to stay out of trouble. It's not surprising that the endearingly antiheroic young Czech (whose story resembles that of the author) steers clear of politics: the totalitarian regime has already expelled him from university because of suspected sympathy for the West. So the ten episodes that comprise his self-deprecating tale are linked by both his passion for life, love, and jazz and his distrust of truth and ideology. These are mellow memories of commonplace events rendered interesting and memorable through Skvorecky's wonderful deadpan humor, colloquial dialog, and a seamless narrative style that the four translators have worked hard to preserve. This slender collection of bittersweet refrains is highly recommended for all contemporary literature collections.?Sister M. Anna Falbo, Villa Maria Coll. Lib., Buffalo, N.Y.
Copyright 1996 Reed Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From Kirkus Reviews
The first English translation of an early (195456) episodic novel by the Czechoslovakian-born author of The Engineer of Human Souls (1984) and other chronicles of cultural dislocation and exile. In ten vignettes, Danny Smiricky, an apolitical young jazz musician (and the protagonist of the above-mentioned novel and of several other kvoreck titles) reminisces in diffuse fashion about his experiences and friendships in and around Prague in the immediate postwar, post-Stalinist period. Among other embattled souls, there's a newspaperwoman (``Madam Editor'') whose hatred of ``Bolshevism'' altered under the pressure of practical considerations; an anticommunist judge who joined the Party in order to subvert its principles; and a gorgeous teenager (``Little Mata Hari of Prague'') who may have masqueraded as a double agent. And in the final chapter, Danny weakly declares his wavering allegiance to ``socialism'' to a friend who offers to get him out of the country and to safety in the West. None of these characters is drawn with great vividness, nor do any of the opinions held or debated seem especially forceful. It's all communicated with a kind of whimsical Vonnegut-like indifference, expressed in exasperatingly digressive conversational asides, and in such shamelessly padded temporizing as the following three paragraphs (with which kvoreck begins a chapter): ``When you play the tenor sax, sooner or later you ask yourself the question./What's it really for and why and so forth and so on./Life, that is.'' There's a scattering of appreciative talk about jazz, but we otherwise learn little about this wan character, other than that he simply desires to be left alone and not risk the complications besetting people who engage life more directly. ``I don't want to get involved,'' Danny Smiick explains. Neither will most readers. --
Copyright ©1996, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
