48 pages • 1 hour read
Bohumil HrabalToo Loud A Solitude
Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1976A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Chapters 5-6Chapter Summaries & Analyses
Chapter 5 Summary
Haňt’a muses that his work requires a classical education and a divinity degree due to its cyclical nature and profound implications. He experiences both progress and regression in his job, similar to the movement of the press’s red and green buttons.
Recently, Haňt’a buried his uncle who inspired him with his signal tower and train setup in his garden. His uncle had a stroke and lay unnoticed for two weeks, decomposing in the heat. Haňt’a collected the remains and placed them in the coffin with his uncle’s scrap-metal collection and a volume of Immanuel Kant’s works.
Returning to his cellar, Haňt’a continues working despite being faced with the unpleasant task of dealing with rotting paper. He alternates between his work and reading Kant’s Theory of the Heavens, finding solace in the philosopher’s thoughts about the universe. Amidst the toil, he contemplates the balance between progress and the return to origins, embodied in the movement of his hydraulic press.
Haňt’a’s current task involves compacting reproductions of Vincent van Gogh’s Sunflowers, which brightens the otherwise grim cellar. The repetition of the press’s movement and the presence of the sunflowers offer him a fleeting sense of beauty and order. He describes the process of compacting mouse nests along with the wastepaper.
When he returns home, a memory of a Romani girl, whom he calls “the love of [his] youth” (54), surfaces. During World War II, the girl followed him home one night and became a part of his life, quietly living with him, tending to the fire, and cooking simple meals. They shared a silent, profound connection, enjoying each other’s company in their humble surroundings. Haňt’a remembers that one autumn, he made a kite, and they spent a joyful day flying it. However, the girl eventually disappeared and never returned. Haňt’a searched for her until he found out that she was taken by the Gestapo and sent to a concentration camp.
After the war, Haňt’a found some solace in compacting Nazi literature, deriving satisfaction from destroying the symbols of a regime that had caused so much pain. Yet, the memory of the Romani girl who had sought only simple pleasures remains with him throughout his life. Exhausted from his work, Haňt’a is haunted by the gnawing sound of mice in his apartment. He fears the structural instability of his book-laden shelves and the possibility of the books collapsing on top of him.
Chapter 6 Summary
Haňt’a hears about a new, enormous automatic press in Bubny, which can compact wastepaper much more efficiently than his own press. Curious and somewhat apprehensive, he decides to visit the new facility. On arrival, Haňt’a is overwhelmed by the sight of the massive, modern press housed in a grand glass building. The sheer size and efficiency of the machine are intimidating, and he is struck by how it dwarfs the hydraulic press he has been using for years.
As he observes, he notices the modern attire of the workers, who wear bright gloves and baseball caps, contrasting with his own rugged appearance and his bare-handed approach to work. The workers feed entire boxes of books into the press without a second glance; their efficiency and detachment are starkly different from Haňt’a’s careful handling and appreciation of each book. This mechanized, emotionless processing of books feels inhumane to Haňt’a.
His visit to Bubny reveals the new era of wastepaper processing—there is no room for his old-fashioned methods and emotional connection to books. The workers at Bubny are part of a Brigade of Socialist Labor, and they enjoy benefits and a sense of community that Haňt’a lacks. They take breaks together and drink milk and soft drinks (unlike Haňt’a, who drinks beer), and they plan holidays and excursions, highlighting a camaraderie and lifestyle that is foreign to Haňt’a. The workers are even taking vacations together, such as to a chalet in the Krkonoše Mountains, Italy, France, Bulgaria, and Greece. The workers’ planned trip to Greece particularly upsets Haňt’a, as he had never taken a vacation, and he feels that his intimate knowledge of Greece’s philosophy, history, and art puts him in a better place to really enjoy such a trip. He believes that the workers are completely ignorant of such matters.
Feeling overwhelmed and out of place, Haňt’a returns to his cellar, where his boss berates him for falling behind. Despite feeling like a relic in this new world, Haňt’a throws himself into his work with renewed vigor, determined to keep up with the demands placed on him. He resolves to adopt the cold, mechanical efficiency he witnessed at Bubny. He even tries to drink milk, though he finds it repulsive.
Throughout this ordeal, Haňt’a battles with the realization that the world is moving on without him, embracing new technologies and efficiencies that leave little room for the personal touches he values. He feels a deep sense of loss and nostalgia for the way things used to be, but he pushes through his discomfort, driven by a sense of duty and a desire to prove himself.
In the evening, exhausted and reflective, Haňt’a thinks about Manča, who invited him to visit her in a nearby village. Seeking solace, he decides to visit her. When he arrives at her cottage, he is shocked to find an old artist carving a massive statue of an angel. The artist is Manča’s latest lover. Manča explains that the artist is creating the statue as a monument to her—a testament to her life and loves.
As he leaves, Haňt’a realizes that Manča, who had always shunned books, has achieved a kind of immortality through this statue and her full life, which transcended their shared past. This realization underscores Haňt’a’s sense of being left behind in a world that no longer values the things he holds dear.
Chapters 5-6 Analysis
Chapters 5 and 6 of Too Loud a Solitude develop Haňt’a’s reaction to modernity and the development of new technology. His visit to the new press in Bubny is the central episode in these chapters. The modern facility, with its massive, efficient press, represents the future of wastepaper processing—fast, detached, and impersonal. The workers at Bubny, equipped with bright gloves and baseball caps, embody a new era that prioritizes efficiency over the intimate, careful handling of books that Haňt’a practices.
Haňt’a’s discomfort and sense of alienation in this modern environment are caused, on the one hand, from his attachment to traditional methods. His bare-handed approach and emotional connection to the books starkly contrast with the cold, mechanical efficiency of the Bubny workers. The modern technology announces broader societal shifts toward modernization and mechanization, leaving behind Haňt’a’s world. The new press symbolizes progress, but it also signifies the loss of personal touch and the deep appreciation for individual books.
On the other hand, the camaraderie and lifestyle of the Bubny workers, with their collective activities and vacations, contrast with Haňt’a’s solitary existence. This new world of social benefits and communal experiences seems alien to Haňt’a, who finds solace in his isolated work environment. The workers’ planned trip to Greece, a place Haňt’a has studied over the years but has never visited, exacerbates his feeling of being out of place in a rapidly changing world.
Haňt’a derives a sense of purpose from his methodical, thoughtful approach to his work. He develops personal connections with the books he compacts and with their ideas, which carry him much further than his physical environment allows. Haňt’a’s habit of placing notable books into the bales he compacts reflects his effort to preserve and honor the knowledge contained in these works. The advent of the new, more efficient automatic press threatens this sense of purpose. The detachment with which the Bubny workers handle books—feeding entire boxes into the press without a second glance—feels inhumane to Haňt’a. This mechanized processing strips the work of the personal touch and reverence that Haňt’a believes is essential. His experience at Bubny forces him to confront the possibility that his way of finding meaning in his work may become obsolete in a world that values efficiency over emotional connection.
Moreover, Haňt’a’s reflections on his past, including his relationship with the Romani girl, further illustrate his quest for meaning. Haňt’a’s memories are marked by both beauty and pain, shaping his understanding of his work and life. Memory and loss persistently haunt Haňt’a. The memories of his mother, uncle, Manča, and the Romani girl are central to his reflections in these chapters. His uncle’s death and the subsequent burial, which includes placing a volume of Kant’s works in the coffin, signify the merging of personal loss with Haňt’a’s intellectual pursuits. Haňt’a constantly looks for ways of honoring the memory of those people, objects, and ideas that are meaningful to him.
Haňt’a’s encounter with Manča in the final scene of Chapter 6 further intensifies Haňt’a’s sense of alienation with the world he lives in. The massive statue of an angel being carved in Manča’s honor represents a form of immortality that contrasts with Haňt’a’s transitory, solitary existence. Manča’s life, commemorated through art, stands in stark contrast to Haňt’a’s loneliness and sorrow. This encounter highlights Haňt’a’s realization that the world has moved on from his way of life and that he is increasingly out of step with the present.
Overall, Haňt’a’s work is a metaphor for The Struggle for Freedom Under Authoritarianism. Chapter 5 and Chapter 6 bring Haňt’a closer to the realization that his constant acts of defiance might not be able to prevail over a system of repression that is much larger than he is. Nevertheless, his struggle is moral and personal. Haňt’a’s commitment is not to an immediate social cause. Rather, his existence is dedicated to resisting submission, while, ironically, he is working the gruesome job of compacting wastepaper.
