Cup Of Coffee

by Ludvík Vaculík, George Theiner (Translator)

These witty and ironical short essays in the classic Czech genre known as feuilletons, or chronicles, show Ludvik Vaculik's philosophy, honesty and humor. His work, in George Theiner's stylish translation, will evoke a powerful response today from English-language readers wondering how to think clearly and keep their values in confusing times. Author of the radical 2000 Words manifesto for writers during the Prague Spring of 1968, Ludvik Vaculik was banned from all official publishing after the 1968 Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia during two decades until the fall of communism with the Velvet Revolution of 1989. However, as founding editor of the "Padlock Editions" of informally circulated typescripts, he was central to maintaining independent writing and ideas in the Czech language. After the Velvet Revolution confirmed his importance as an independent thinker and cultural figure, Vaculik continued his refusal to subscribe to accepted conventions. 'Democracy has made me a poor democrat' he wrote of the new Czech age of consumer culture, media sound bites and public relations.

Genres: Nonfiction, Czech Literature, Essays, History, Politics

Paperback

First published September 1, 1987

About the author

Ludvík Vaculík was a Czech writer and journalist. He was born in Brumov, Moravian Wallachia. A prominent samizdat writer, he was best known as the author of the "Two Thousand Words" manifesto of June 1968.

Reviews

[Jim · Rating 4 out of 5]

The more feuilletons he wrote in this collection, the better that Ludvík Vaculík got at it. You might almost want to start reading A Cup Of Coffee with My Interrogator: The Prague Chronicles of Ludvok Vaculik by Ludvik Vaculik at the halfway point.

The essays in this book were written between 1977 and 1987, between the continuing disgust at the Russian invasion of 1968 and the hope of Gorbachev's period of glasnost. At one point, after having seen Richard Attenborough's film version of Gandhi, Vakulic wrote:

However, there can be no doubt that whatever has been done that is good, has been done by those who were able to take a hand, and who had managed to hang on to the remnants of their integrity. And whatever has been done that is rotten, is the fault of the weak, the nasty and the treacherous.

This could be applicable not only to the Communist world of the 1980s, but America in the 2020s.

[Greg D'Avis · Rating 4 out of 5]

Vaculik's always been sort of on my radar as a prominent Czech dissident writer, but I'd never read him until now. I have a taste for this sort of thing, obviously, but even so I'm impressed. I got this thinking it was one of his novels, but nope -- it's a collection of short pieces (here called "feuilletons," and we've all learned something today) on the life of a dissident in 1970s Prague.

By this point, it seems, the real fear was past and all that was left was a malignant bureaucracy, trying to grind down rather than crush. Vaculik responds with dry humor and guts -- he sees the silliness, but he's not always willing to laugh it off.

One of the essays deals with anti-intellectualism in Prague. It rather neatly anticipates the Tea Party, 25 years in advance. And that's one of the great things about this book; they're tied to a specific time and place, but often, they've got a timeless impact.

[Daniel Polansky]

Samizdat feuilletons from the a Charter 77 signatory during the late stage of the Czechoslovakian Socialist Republic. Witty and human, like meeting your thoughtful, funny friend for an Urquell on a sunny day.

[Dave Coffing · Rating 5 out of 5]

I originally read this in college for an integrated course on East Central Europe. The short story style is not normally my preferred style but Vaculik is an outstanding writer and I found myself reading this book again and again. Through the years and the many moves I have made this book has always accompanied me. When lost, it's been replaced so I can read it yet again.
Fascinating, darkly funny stories describing the insanity and hypocrisy of Stalinist-style rule in Czechoslovakia.
This book would be one of my desert island choices. Yes, I really think it's that good.

[Dave Rush · Rating 3 out of 5]

I think that this author has the problem of the composer with no capacity for playing an instrument. While knowledgeable and arguably a great organizer of the literary tradition of the Czech underground, the author’s voice comes off as whinny. Where a song could be sung with vibrant message, we have a tone deaf singer. His ideas are great, but his cadence is subpar and makes me wonder why a Western press would give him an entire book. The brilliant moments are worthy of praise but overall of the 120 plus pages brilliance could be collected across maybe 10.

[Duarte · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5*

[Edward · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ludvik Vaculik's short essays are more immediate than his the writing in his novel "The Axe." Thus he is given to bitterness and cynicism of his situation rather than the dreamy reminisces that make his novel a pleasure to read. In one of these essays, Thus Spake Svejk, Vaculik speaks of freedom "...where there is agreement freedom doesn't come into it-freedom only begins where dissent begins." We find that this elusive freedom is that of personal choice and not just his choice to write. Without mentioning names he criticizes the writing of ex-patriots as superfluous simply because they have left the battlefield and their writing does not challenge the regime. He is argument carries force because writing can be more than self serving artistic inclination, it can be an instrument to slowly but directly chip away at walls.

The stories require some familiarity with East European and dissident literature; for example in, How to Survive 1984, Vaculik mentions the name Amalrik but the significance of his remark goes unnoticed until you find out that he's referring to Andrei Amalrik a Russian dissident who penned a thesis in 1970 "Will the Soviet Union Survive Until 1984" that predicted the collapse of the USSR.

[Mila · Rating 4 out of 5]

This collection of chronicles written over the years of the so-called normalisation in Cechoslovakia is a fantastic immersion in the world of the dissidence. We experience with Vaculík the constant police searches and interrogatories, we get to meet Havel, Klíma and other signatories of the Charter 77 and to follow their conversations about arts, politics and freedom in Prague’s cafes.
The tone is down-to-earth, with a touch of dry humor especially when addressing grave topics such as police surveillance:
“Someone rings my doorbell, so I quickly remove the paper from my typewriter and hide it before going to the open door. It was the rent collector. What a pleasant surprise!” (May day)

However the light anecdote always leads to a deeper undertone, a strong affirmation of one’s sense of integrity, of irreducible human freedom, even in the most dictatorial regime.
“Under the circumstances, every bit of honest work, every expression of incorruptibility, every gesture of goodwill, every deviation from cold routine, and every step or glance without a mask has the worth of an heroic deed. Our opponent, in particular, should find us ready - not to die for some rotten sacred cause- but to understand its positive aspects and to hold on to them.” (On Heroism)

[H]

A CUP OF COFFEE WITH MY INTERROGATOR - LUDVIK VACULIK

One summer day, on a tram, I heard a little boy of about ten ask his mother: "Where is infinity? I mean, in our country?" His mother leaned forward to tell him, but I failed to hear what she said. From time to time I thnk of that boy and would like to know what has happened to him. Yes, he got it right, that was the proper question to ask: where do you find infinity, I mean, in our country? (120, in "Words..." Feb 1986)

[Shavit · Rating 5 out of 5]

Very good. I'm usually not a fan of this type of writing, but how can you not like this collection.

[Creag · Rating 3 out of 5]

A background for the Czech dissident scene, written prior to '89.