The Joke

When they were children, Ludvik and Jaroslav were very good friends. They shared a great deal in common, especially their status as “half-orphans.” Each raised by a single parent, they filled the empty space in their lives with each other and, later, with music. They shared a love of folk music, but they diverged when they went to different universities. After this point, their contrasts highlight the ways in which backgrounds do not determine the future. Ludvik became increasingly involved in politics, while Jaroslav focused on music. While Ludvik invested himself in the Party, Jaroslav dedicated himself to preserving folk music traditions. Still, when the timeline reaches the present era, both men are disillusioned. Ludvik has been cast out by the Party and lost his faith in politics and society. Jaroslav, prompted by Ludvik’s criticisms, has come to view the folk traditions that once meant so much to him as hollow. The music he plays with his group is not an authentic extension of the folk tradition of Czechoslovakia but a mimicry or parody. Jaroslav fears his life’s work is misguided. He has lost his faith in his music, having become infected with Ludvik’s jaded and bitter attitude.

Despite this lack of enthusiasm, Ludvik continues to perform the role of an enthusiastic defender of folk traditions. When interviewed by Helena about the Ride of the Kings festival, he praises the Party for their funding and assistance, even though this support has decreased. He is not willing to admit that the traditions and music he has sought to preserve mean little to other people. Now, he feels alone and despondent, yet he cannot release himself from the pressure of performance of identity.

Jaroslav’s disillusionment is illustrated by his relationship with his son. Vladimir is set to perform the role of the king in the Ride of the Kings festival. Jaroslav is being honored by the Party, who have chosen Vladimir in tribute to his father. Vladimir resents being chosen due to his parentage rather than for his own merits, and, unlike his father, he resists the performance. Jaroslav is willing to ignore his son’s concerns, focusing more on how Vladimir as the king relates to him. He wants praise and acknowledgment for his life’s work. He is initially willing to delude himself into believing that his son is on the horse, but with Ludvik’s return, he can no longer deny the festival’s artificiality. The veiled king is not his son but an anonymous stand-in, someone who means nothing to Jaroslav. The realization shocks him, and he leaves his house to be alone. The artificial past, the performance of identity, and totalitarianism as absurdity collide: Jaroslav is forced to confront the fact that his lifelong devotion to performing the role of the ideal Czech citizen and Party member has led to nothing but this empty pantomime of continuity.

At the end of the novel, Ludvik finds Jaroslav, and the two men reunite by playing a concert together. Though they are playing the same inauthentic folk songs Ludvik once criticized, they find new meaning and purpose in their playing because they are playing together. The band is scheduled to play until a certain time, but the disinterested audience aggravates Jaroslav. He threatens to leave but is convinced to stay. As he plays with increased intensity, he has a heart attack. The confluence of the music’s authenticity, the disconnect with his son, and his emotional reunion with Ludvik are enough to physically damage him. The emotional numbness that has settled over his life is disrupted by a sudden shock. Jaroslav, Ludvik is assured, will recover. His heart had been jolted into recognition of the emotional reality of his present rather than looking constantly to the artificial past for validation.

Helena is notable for her sincerity. Ludvik deliberately seduces her as part of a plot to avenge himself against her husband, Zemanek, whom he blames for his expulsion from the Party. Whereas Ludvik has an ulterior motive for their romantic tryst, Helena is genuinely interested in his affection. She finds herself in a place of social alienation. She is middle-aged and caught in a loveless marriage, stuck with a man who considers himself better than her and who has recently started dating a much younger and more attractive woman. When Helena goes to work, her young assistant, Jindra, showers her with devotion and affection, which only reminds her how much older she is than him and how few meaningful relationships she has cultivated throughout her life. She can no longer count on her husband’s devotion, and the only man interested in her is Jindra, whom she does not take seriously. As a result, she is surprised by Ludvik’s sudden romantic interest in her. When he invites her on a date in Moravia, she feels validated for the first time in years. She quickly falls in love with him as she is in a vulnerable emotional position. Her sincerity and openness highlight Ludvik’s nefarious intentions.

Even when Helena goes to Kostka’s apartment with Ludvik, she struggles to fully abandon the promises of her past. She knows that Pavel is no longer committed to their marriage, but she is hesitant to commit adultery with Ludvik. Helena is striving for authentic connection, but she is still a prisoner to the performance of identity—both as a wife and, unbeknownst to her, the false identity that Ludvik is performing in order to manipulate her. Their appeal to each other is based entirely on their artificial pasts; Ludvik wants Helena because he believes in the false appearance of domestic harmony that she performs for the world, and Helena wants Ludvik because she believes his lies about his feelings and background.

Ludvik encourages her to talk about Zemanek, and she does so, treating their encounter almost as a therapy session. Despite this, she still withholds some information until after they consummate the affair. The act of sex is transformative for Helena. Afterward, she abandons any hesitancy. Much to Ludvik’s horror, she reveals that her marriage to Zemanek is on the brink of collapse, obliterating the spiteful delight Ludvik took in their coupling. This reveal contrasts the sincerity of Helena’s character with the bitterness of Ludvik’s. She has been used by Ludvik, but, tragically, she does not yet realize this. She allows herself to be emotionally vulnerable and open for the first time in many years, and she is punished a short time later. At the moment when she completely lets go of her past, she makes herself more helpless than ever.

After encountering Zemanek, Ludvik quickly abandons Helena. Just when she thought that she had found someone else to love her, the entire charade is revealed. Helena is distraught. Swept up in a wave of emotion, she attempts suicide, but the pills she takes are nothing more than laxatives, and Ludvik—the man who has driven her to the point of suicide—finds her in a compromising position in the toilet. Rather than discovering her dead body, as she had imagined, he sees her at the lowest point of her humiliation. Life for Helena becomes a cruel joke.

The irony of Helena’s misfortune, however, is that her humiliation prompts Ludvik to see her as human for the first time. He is first concerned that she is suicidal, and then he empathizes with her humiliation. He feels fellowship with the fact that her existence has been turned into a bitter joke. Helena does form a bond with Ludvik, but not the one she intended. Her love turns to hate, just as his cruel indifference turns to empathy. Once again, the artificial pasts and performances of identity demanded by Czech society have resulted in humiliation and suffering. Like Ludvik, Helena discovers that her attempts to escape totalitarianism end only in absurdity.