They wouldn’t be any great loss, either of ‘em.”īesides many other things, this extravagant tale seems to be one of the first examples of postmodern novels full of delicious black humour. One of them does jobs for Prusa the chemist, and one day he drank a bottle of hair oil by mistake and then there’s Ferdinand Kokoska who goes round collecting manure. Muller?” asked Schweik, continuing to massage his knees. Apart from this occupation, he was afflicted with rheumatism, and was just rubbing his knees with embrocation. Schweik who, having left the army many years before, when a military medical board had declared him to be chronically feebleminded, earned a livelihood by the sale of dogs – repulsive mongrel monstrosities for whom he forged pedigrees. “So they’ve killed Ferdinand,” said the charwoman to Mr. ![]() I enjoyed it both times, though quite differently.Įverything begins on the eve of the Great War… I’ve read The Good Soldier Švejk twice – once when I was still adolescent and second time when I was already an adult.
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