Immortality and other stories

Reading six books by the same author in succession isn't generally advisable. They can merge into one and one can come away with the idea that Michael Henchard didn't treat Tess Darbeyfield very well. However, it wasn't obvious with what to take a break from the Kundera festivities with and so Immortality was next off the shelf because I did long ago once read The Joke and The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

It might actually be an advantage with Kundera to read so much of him at once because, it seems to me, the books have more in common than they have that differentiates them. It becomes increasingly evident that he is in some ways akin to Jean Baudrillard, not least in his subversive deconstruction of the familiar.

Where Baudrillard suggested that the Gulf War 'did not take place', Kundera undermines 'individuality' by noticing there are far fewer gestures than there are people and thus it is gestures that have more individuality and that those making them, it is inferred, are reduced to vehicles for them.

Kundera remains highly readable and, I'm sure, brilliant at what he does but he's not so easy to love because cleverness can be admired but doesn't always bring warmth with it.

Such chic is only art deep.

--

Whereas, at 83, one very much does love Candi Staton and her Glastonbury appearance.

The whole idea of Glastonbury is very underwhelming for me for all the usual reasons. Anything counter-cultural or alternative becomes commodified and outlives its motives, usually sooner rather than later, and there is only really the 'mainstream' and its many tributaries.

I've always been slightly surprised by Elton John's megastar status. He's not much of a singer. There's a great album to be made of his best stuff but it's radio-friendly and hasn't ever demanded to be bought. He's nowhere near as good as Fleetwood Mac or George Michael but he's much, much better than Queen. I didn't think the guests he had on were quite as 'A' list as they might have been. I see that questions have been asked elsewhere regarding the whereabouts of Kiki Dee and Britney. And Rocket Man might have been his best song but it didn't lend itself to the big finish.

So, thanks all the more to Aunty Candi, a bravura run through of the greatest hits that gathered momentum and demonstrated that she's still standing after all these years, like a true survivor, with Diana Ross having been rubbish, really, on such occasions in recent years and Tina Turner of exactly the same vintage having departed this life.

Candi Staton was a better singer than either of them. Miss Ross was given all the best songs from the Motown hit factory by Berry Gordy and Tina hit the jackpot when re-invented with Private Dancer but she was always more raunch than soul. 

I'd no more want to go to Glastonbury than I'd want to go back to the office job. There is no reason to want to. As with the classic Chic performance some years ago, the telly means you don't have to.