Plot
Germany is losing at all her fronts at the end of the Second World War. Young Miloš Hrma is engaged as an unpaid employee in a small railway station. The stationmaster, an enthusiastic pigeon-breeder, has a kind wife, but is envious of the train dispatcher Hubička's success with women. Miloš holds a platonic love for young conductor Máša. The experienced Hubička tries to explain to him the "matters of love" and discovers that Miloš is a virgin.
The idyll of the railway station is disturbed by the arrival of the councillor, Zednicek, a Nazi supporter. Máša spends the night with Miloš, but he finds no success and, the next day, he attempts suicide. He is saved, and the doctor explains to him that ejaculatio praecox is normal at Miloš's age. The doctor recommends that Miloš seek the assistance of an experienced woman. During the nightshift, Hubička flirts with the telegraphist, Zdenička, and imprints her buttocks with the office's rubber stamps. Her mother complains to Hubička's superiors.
The scandal prevents the stationmaster from becoming inspector. The Germans are nervous, since their trains are attacked and blown up by the partisans. An attack is also planned for this station. Young artiste Viktoria Freie delivers a bomb to the station. At Hubička's request, Viktoria also helps Miloš to "resolve" his problem with virginity. The encouraged Miloš sets up the booby-trap himself. The endeavor is successful, but the young man also dies during the course of events.
Read more about this topic: Closely Watched Trains
Famous quotes containing the word plot:
“Morality for the novelist is expressed not so much in the choice of subject matter as in the plot of the narrative, which is perhaps why in our morally bewildered time novelists have often been timid about plot.”
—Jane Rule (b. 1931)
“Those blessed structures, plot and rhyme—
why are they no help to me now
I want to make
something imagined, not recalled?”
—Robert Lowell (1917–1977)
“The plot! The plot! What kind of plot could a poet possibly provide that is not surpassed by the thinking, feeling reader? Form alone is divine.”
—Franz Grillparzer (1791–1872)