Why Kundera Never Went Home

My visits to Milan Kundera and his wife, Věra, became regular in 2019, when I was in the third year of my mission as Czech ambassador to France. What started as polite and admiring calls from a diplomat to his country’s greatest author evolved into friendship. But this late November evening was special, and I was as nervous as I had been at my first call to the Kunderas two years before. We sat in their Parisian apartment chatting, as usual, about this and that. When I thought the right moment had come, I stood up and said: “Milan, I know you don’t like ceremonies, but let me say a few words.”