A review by meatspaceproblems
The Festival of Insignificance by Milan Kundera

Lives up to its title, but not in a bad way. Circular, inconsequential, self important and enjoyable- as intended and as are all the characters. Would be a stellar dinner party guest but not someone you’d invite to anything without the buffer of catering. 

Ps Tessa Hadley’s review of this in the guardian is perfection