Lubomír Martínek

"It's a devilish Czech matter that it's a huge difference if in such key historical moments like in '48, '68, you're fourteen, or seventeen, or twenty years old. Suddenly, the differences between generations means nothing, and I was hit by this stupidity at the age of fourteen, which was quite dumb, because that's the kind of most aggravated, slightly historical period. Nothing much was going on yet in '68, a year later I was taking part in the intifada here behind the National Museum, throwing stones and such tomfoolery. Nonetheless there were some very unpleasant changes going on - switching from primary to secondary school, the changing of professors, changing of neighbours, and those idiots who swore that they'll never bend to anyone, and 'Boys, fight and resist! I won't shave until the Russians leave!' and a year later the same ones were pressuring me into the SSM (Union of Socialist Youth). This pressure, the beginning was quite icky. Nonetheless with hindsight I am quite glad of this lesson, because I feel that I gained a great head start in front of the others, that I realised very quickly, when about seventeen, eighteen, I had a rough but clear idea of the given balance of character in society. It took me a bit longer to find out that this is a constant, that you can't really do anything about it, that the number of shitpants and bastards are always about the same, and then later on in my life, getting along in this world, I saw that in the various contexts it was very similar everywhere."

"That was an amazing touch of Freud. That was a wonderful experience, because I still don't have it sorted out wit Freud, how much did he get it right, how much is it overblown. I feel its like Mr. Freud found the key to one room and he thinks he has the pick for all the locks. But something from this level (of consciousness) really does exist, upon crossing the borders the subconscious really did come gushing out. Suddenly memory works in a completely different way. Those were hallucinatory states, where I would arrive at Zábradlí (the theatre) where I was a stage hand, and the laws of physics were overruled - the seats weren't worn down one bit after ten years, they were the same; there was my dog ear in the ashtray, I remember exactly how I had snubbed it there. A toolbox on Malostranská Square was rotted just to the same degree as it was at the moment I left. You'd walk past the house you used to live in, and the names on the bell plates were the same. You'd open the door and the same stench of cabbage would billow out. Simply, there were amazing things coming up through these taste and smell memories - so that was a wonderful experience."

"At the time when I was there, I think there was quite an interesting constellation of Czech intellectuals. There were three viewpoints as if - one was represented by Tigrid and his (magazine) Testimony (Svědectví), that was a political matter, the second viewpoint was represented by Antonín Liehm, who edited the Lettre Internationale, a very good magazine, I did translations for him for the One Hundred and Fifty Thousand Words, so that was partly my living. Of course the closest viewpoint to me was the third one - Jiří Kolář. Each of these viewpoints had a loose community of people around them, and they all knew each other of course. Those who were more interested in art would gravitate towards Kolář more than Tigrid. Those who were more politically oriented would keep to the Testimony."

"This one enormously fat German from the neighbouring coupé would come out to smoke, and so would this girl from another coupé. When we'd been to smoke like this several times, me and the girl started making fun of the fatty. One word led to the next, or, one broken English word led to the next broken English word, and we sat down together in the coupé and the girl turned out to be a Frenchwoman, and she asked me where I was headed. I said: 'To Paris.' Of course I didn't tell her I was emigrating, I wouldn't knock myself down now. So I asked her if she knew of any cheap hotels, what they were like, what are the options. She gave me some addresses. We arrived at Gare de l'Est, she said: 'Wait, wait, I've got an idea. Sit down here, have a coffee, I'll be back in a moment.' So I bought a coffee, annoyed, as it cost three franks, that was about a twentieth of my finances. She came back in a moment and said: 'It's okay, it's sorted, come on!' So I followed her like a sheep, she introduced me to her brother. He said: 'Okay, good, so I heard, we're leaving for our holiday, here are the keys to the flat, go live there!' So after three hours in Paris I had a lovely one-room flat for myself for two weeks. I thought: 'These Frenchmen are a pretty decent sort, but this can't be possible, it must be a mistake, it can't work like this.' I was sitting on the bed, just staring in front of me, wondering what would be next, that it can't be possible, these things simply mustn't be true, that would mean one might end up an optimist. Of course, a moment later the bell rang, the brother was standing outside: 'I get it,' I said already reaching for my bag to leave. He said: 'I was thinking, it's ridiculous, it'll be New Year's Eve now, and you'll be here alone, you'd be bored - you'll come with us to Fontainebleau!' So two hours later we arrived by jeep to a villa in Fontainebleau, which was full of the golden youth."