“Along with thirty-five years of pushing the red and green buttons on my hydraulic press, I’ve had thirty-five years of drinking beer—not that I enjoy it, no, I loathe drunkards, I drink to make me think better, to go to the heart of what I read, because what I read I read not for the fun of it or to kill time or fall asleep; I, who live in a land that has known how to read and write for fifteen generations, drink so that what I read will prevent me from falling into everlasting sleep, will give me the d.t.’s, because I share with Hegel the view that a noble-hearted man is not yet a nobleman, nor a criminal a murderer.”

This quote employs a blend of personal narrative and philosophical reflection to underscore Haňt’a’s internal struggle and intellectual aspirations. The actions of drinking and reading are both contrasted and presented as similar. Additionally, the allusion to Hegel introduces a philosophical dimension: Haňt’a argues that his pursuit of knowledge and moral contemplation signifies that there is a difference between the person who drinks in order to think and escape harsh reality, and another person who drinks just for the sake of drinking. The term “the d.t.’s” refers to delirium tremens—a severe reaction to alcohol withdrawal.

“That’s why I’m always behind in my work, why the courtyard is piled to the rooftops with old paper that can’t go down the opening in the ceiling of my cellar for the mountain of old paper blocking it from below; that’s why my boss, his face scarlet with rage, will sometimes stick his hook through the opening and clear away enough paper to shout down to me, ‘Haňt’a! Where are you? For Christ’s sake, will you stop ogling those books and get to work? The courtyard’s piled high with paper and you sit there dreaming!’ And I huddle in the lee of my paper mountain like Adam in the bushes and pick up a book, and my eyes open panic-stricken on a world other than my own, because when I start reading I’m somewhere completely different, I’m in the text, it’s amazing, I have to admit I’ve been dreaming, dreaming in a land of great beauty, I’ve been in the very heart of truth.”

In this quote, Bohumil Hrabal contrasts Haňt’a’s physical labor with his intellectual and emotional escape through reading. The imagery of the “courtyard piled to the rooftops with old paper” and the boss’s rage-filled shouts depict Haňt’a’s chaotic and abusive work environment. However, Haňt’a finds refuge in literature, where he transcends his physical environment and experiences a connection to truth and beauty. Haňt’a’s boss represents the tyrannical regime of the nation, while Haňt’a succeeds in carving out some intellectual space for himself despite his restrictive circumstances, highlighting the theme of