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 7-8Chapter Summaries & Analyses
Chapter 7 Summary
In Chapter 7 of Too Loud a Solitude, Haňt’a’s world is irrevocably altered when two young workers from the Socialist Labor Brigade arrive at his workplace. Haňt’a’s boss has called them since he is unhappy with the pace of Haňt’a’s work. The workers are equipped with modern attire—orange gloves, blue overalls, suspenders, green turtlenecks, and yellow baseball caps—and this contrasts with Haňt’a’s rough appearance. They take over Haňt’a’s press and begin operating it with efficiency, producing five bales in an hour. Haňt’a feels humiliated and displaced, likening his situation to that of monks who could not accept Copernicus’s discoveries and died by mass suicide.
Haňt’a’s boss, reveling in the young workers’ efficiency, dismisses Haňt’a and tells him he will be making bales of clean paper at the Melantrich Printing Works, a modern facility, starting next week. Haňt’a is devastated by the prospect of leaving behind the job he has known for 35 years, which involved finding and rescuing valuable books from the waste. Watching the young workers handle his machine, Haňt’a feels a deep sense of loss and shame.
Desperate to cling to his old life, Haňt’a retrieves a book—Charles Lindbergh’s account of his first transoceanic flight—from the waste. This reminds him of Frantík Šturm, the sacristan of Holy Trinity, to whom Haňt’a has been delivering books for many years. Haňt’a decides to make one final trip to give Charles Lindbergh’s book to Frantík. Crossing the courtyard, he encounters his boss, who is inappropriately touching a young salesgirl named Hedvička. The boss enjoys harassing young girls, which is a habit that disgusts Haňt’a.
Haňt’a delivers the book to Frantík, who is thrilled to receive it. Frantík’s joy only intensifies Haňt’a’s sense of impending loss, knowing this is the last time he will be able to bring such joy to someone through his work. As they stand under the wings of two angels in the church, the priest interrupts, calling Frantík to administer last rites.
Haňt’a leaves the church and contemplates praying for a miracle at the statue of Saint Thaddeus, hoping it might somehow save his job and his way of life. However, he is interrupted by a philosophy professor, to whom Haňt’a laments that he has been kicked out of his cellar and that he will not be able to deliver the magazines and review journals as before. As Haňt’a returns to his workplace, he is overwhelmed by the noise and activity, unable to face the changes. He retreats to the street, feeling lost and directionless. Eventually, he finds himself back at the statue of Saint Thaddeus, where he collapses in despair and fantasizes about an apocalyptic press that engulfs and destroys all of Prague, including himself.
Awakening from his fantasy, Haňt’a encounters Frantík, who hands him a thank-you note for the Lindbergh book. Realizing it will be the last such note, Haňt’a tears it up in Charles Square. He gazes at the statue of Ignatius of Loyola, envisioning Seneca in a gilded bathtub after slashing his wrists, reflecting on the end of his small joys and the tranquility he once found in his work.
Chapter 8 Summary
In the last chapter of Too Loud a Solitude, Haňt’a finds himself at the Black Brewery’s cafeteria, contemplating his future. He realizes he must now force himself to interact with people and enjoy life despite his melancholic nature. Watching the youthful energy around him, he reflects on his own lost vitality and his recent humiliation by his boss, who called him a nitwit. He reminisces about his past, recalling his youthful belief that simply owning a pair of sandals and purple socks would make him handsome. This memory includes a fateful incident when he stepped into dog excrement while wearing his new sandals, which led him to abandon them and flee in embarrassment.
As he continues to drink beer, Haňt’a contemplates various places he could visit, but he decides against going, finding solace in watching people pass by. He recalls an incident from 20 years ago in Stětín, where he saw a man selling a sandal and a purple sock, identical to the ones he abandoned. This encounter made him marvel at having found his very lost sandal and sock and at the man’s faith that someone might come looking for that specific combination.
Haňt’a then crosses the tram tracks and strolls through the park, observing the children playing and thinking about the symbolic meanings of their striped midriffs, connecting these thoughts to various religious and cultural practices, such as the Hasidic Jews, who demarcate the upper body from the unclear lower body, and the Catholic priests, who use the clerical collar to demarcate the head as the superior part in the body. Then, he compares the statues of literary figures, who are depicted in static poses, with the dynamic, athletic postures of Catholic statues.
Haňt’a then decides to visit a local restaurant but is overwhelmed by its similarity to his cellar and quickly leaves. Outside, he meets an old, drunken friend who shows him a document from a detoxification clinic certifying his sobriety the same morning. The friend recounts his brief stint of drinking only milk, which made him so dizzy his boss sent him home, leading him to celebrate his clean bill of health by drinking heavily. The friend proposes they embark on their old drinking route, the “Grand Slalom” (93), but Haňt’a declines and leaves.
Haňt’a wanders back to the Black Brewery, his regular drinking joint, for more drinks, reflecting on the crushing nature of his existence. He watches the clock tower and reminisces about his childhood dream of becoming a millionaire and buying luminous clock hands for the city. He compares his current state to a bad report card, feeling the weight of his failures. In the bar, a giant man enters, breaks a chair, and threatens the customers before suddenly singing a song and leaving, revealing himself as the hangman’s assistant. This reminds Haňt’a of a similar encounter at the slaughterhouse.
Haňt’a, now inebriated, makes his way back to his work cellar. There, he resumes compacting wastepaper, reflecting on his life and the books he has read. He envisions himself choosing his own death, likening his situation to that of Seneca and Socrates. He decides to stay in his cellar and climbs inside the press, viewing it as his paradise where he will not be driven out. As the walls of the press close in on him and kill him, he finds solace in his memories, particularly of the Romani girl from his past: He finally recalls that her name was Ilonka.
Chapters 7-8 Analysis
Haňt’a’s experiences and sense of doom from the preceding chapters carry over to Chapters 7 and 8. The arrival of the young workers from the Socialist Labor Brigade to his work cellar epitomizes Haňt’a’s sense of displacement and obsolescence. These young workers, equipped with modern attire and efficient methods, represent a new era that renders Haňt’a’s meticulous approach obsolete. This generational shift leaves Haňt’a feeling like a relic of the past, unable to compete with the efficiency and detachment of the new workforce.
The humiliation Haňt’a feels as he watches the young workers take over his press turns into desperation when he is reassigned to the Melantrich Printing Works, a modern facility where he will be dealing with clean paper, devoid of the intellectual and emotional connection he had with the books he saved from destruction. Furthermore, Haňt’a’s encounter with his boss, who is described as an abusive and lewd character who revels in the young workers’ efficiency and dismisses Haňt’a’s contributions, highlights the brutal reality of power. The world has moved on, embracing new technologies and efficiencies that leave little room for Haňt’a’s traditional, labor-intensive approach. This displacement, for Haňt’a, is deeply personal, affecting his sense of identity and purpose.
In the final chapter, Haňt’a recalls the incident with the sandals and purple socks, revealing his talent of finding hope in the direst of situations, which mirrors The Struggle for Freedom Under Authoritarianism. The man selling his lost sandal and sock signifies, for Haňt’a, a sense of hope and faith in the impossible:
[A]t the tail end of the most down-and-out merchants I saw a man trying to sell a sandal and purple sock for the right foot. I could have sworn they were the ones, even the size seemed right, nine and a half, and I stood there dumbfounded at that man’s faith, faith that a right-legged uniped in search of sandal and purple sock would happen by, that somewhere there was a cripple, size nine and a half, determined to make the journey to Stětín to buy a sock-and-sandal combination guaranteed to make him handsome. Beyond that man of great faith stood only an old woman selling two bay leaves, which she held up between two fingers. I left with a feeling of amazement: my sandal had come full circle—it had traveled around the world to stand in my way once more, a living reproach (91).
This incident encapsulates Haňt’a’s unique perspective on life: a blend of melancholy and resilient optimism. Even as he faces obsolescence and displacement, Haňt’a retains a childlike belief in the serendipity and meaningful coincidences that life can offer. This perspective allows him to find solace and a sense of continuity in his otherwise fragmented existence. Haňt’a’s struggle for meaning and his sense of faith in the impossible are recurring themes throughout Too Loud a Solitude, reaching a climax in the final chapters. Despite the mechanization and efficiency of the new world around him, Haňt’a continues to seek purpose and significance in his work and life.
Haňt’a’s reflections on religious and philosophical figures, such as his vision of Seneca in a gilded bathtub, underscore his ongoing quest for meaning. These reflections offer Haňt’a a framework to understand his own life and struggles, providing a sense of connection to a broader intellectual and spiritual tradition. His final decision to shut himself inside the press and die by suicide symbolizes his commitment to finding meaning on his own terms.
