Like Diogenes, Švejk lingers at the margins of an unfriendly society against which he is defending his independent existence. - Peter Steiner
Upon his release, Švejk receives a summons to a medical examination to determine his fitness to fight in the coming war. He demands his cleaning woman push him there in a wheelchair, declaring “at a time when it is so grim for Austria, every cripple must be at his post.” As always, this first book of Hašek’s sprawling novel centers on soldiers’ talk, including scabrous monologues about latrines and what maladies will help get one out of service (“I got a dislocated foot for a tenner”), plus hilarious accounts of card games, training mishaps, and soldiers’ certainty that they face death.
Here, though, the laughs are more pained, the scatology more pointed, that good humor laced with mustard gas. Rather than a bumbling Pangloss, this Švejk resists readers’ efforts to see him as sympathetic. He’s often cruel and oafish, animated by no clear philosophy, quite unlike the pacifist teacher Hašek describes in the prison passages. The result is challenging and provocative, a century on. Prefatory material addressing translation issues is academic but illuminating.
Takeaway: Illuminating translation of the human complexity of a Czech classic.
Comparable Titles: Vladimir Voinovich, John Kennedy Toole.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: B