A review by theeuphoriczat
The Festival of Insignificance by Milan Kundera

4.0

I was going to give this book a 3stars when I finished it but upon reflection this book touched on a subject that I have been thinking about a lot recently. How significant really is our lives? I mean how significant is it?, does the significance rise from a notion of ourselves and what we do or is it dependent on how we are perceived by people we honestly give no shits about?

On the surface this book does nothing but tell a short story on the intermingle and dependence of people existence. It might seem about erotic desire as it starts of with the MC fixation on the belly button and the sensual draw of it, then you soon come to the realization that rather than it being a sexual pull, it is more of connectivity. We get to see the power of little unknowing meetings that happen everyday.

Take for example the correlation between the woman who had just killed the person who tried to save her from drowning and her colliding into Alain how main character. He apologies but that encounter helped him identify his need to always apologize even when he was in the wrong. He does not know that the lady had just killed someone and made decision that would definitely have devastated a lot of people.

I am not saying that this is Kundera's best work but I just think it should not be dismissed so easily!