Cours De Danse Pour Adultes Et Élèves Avancés

Rake, drunkard, aesthete, gossip, raconteur extraordinaire: the narrator of

Bohumil Hrabal's rambling, rambunctious masterpiece _Dancing Lessons for the

Advanced in Age_ is all these and more. Speaking to a group of sunbathing

women who remind him of lovers past, this elderly roué tells the story of his

life—or at least unburdens himself of a lifetime's worth of stories. Thus we

learn of amatory conquests (and humiliations), of scandals both private and

public, of military adventures and domestic feuds, of what things were like

"in the days of the monarchy" and how they've changed since. As the book

tumbles restlessly forward, and the comic tone takes on darker shadings, we

realize we are listening to a man talking as much out of desperation as from

exuberance.

Hrabal, one of the great Czech writers of the twentieth century, as well as an

inveterate haunter of Prague's pubs and football stadiums, developed a unique

method which he termed "palavering," whereby characters gab and soliloquize

with abandon. Part drunken boast, part soul-rending confession, part

metaphysical poem on the nature of love and time, this astonishing novel

(which unfolds in a single monumental sentence) shows why he has earned the

admiration of such writers as Milan Kundera, John Banville, and Louise

Erdrich.