When Milan Kundera was fashionable in the Eighties, two things stood out from the books even then:
(a) the taste (and talent) for philosophic abstraction;
(b) the dick-measuring (more commonly termed misogyny).
At the time he was outed as an informer (2008) he of course got the backing of several Nobel Prize winners who foolishly claimed Kundera had “refuted” the accusation. Others more subtly tried to shield him in the jargon of technicalities but Kundera himself did not explain beyond stating he could not remember. Neither did he sue.
On that same list of prominent backers we can also see a couple of his fellow Jerusalem Prize grabbers. Kundera’s 1985 acceptance speech for his share of the cash is remarkable for its brown-nosing of Israel but nowadays that can be seen as part of a pattern.
When the scandal broke in 2008, no one for or against him seems to have asked one basic question: wtf was he doing as prefect of the dormitory in the first place? In other words, what kind of student, what breed of person, would have landed that job in the Czechoslovakia of 1950?
Anyway, he was then let continue with the fantasy of his dotage – that he was a French writer – and the very next year he took his turn at the depraved mutual back-scratching of arts celebs, when he publicly backed Polanski.