The Best Of Fiona Kidman's Short Stories (2013) - Plot & Excerpts
For a short while it shone brightly, then flickered, and finally faded away in the memory of most people. There were underground films being made at the time. One or two would filter through to the West, and in time to come Vlado would watch Jan Palach’s funeral on the television. Dry eyes, because all his tears had been shed. People were recording in words what happened, but remarkably little printed matter would come to light outside Czechoslovakia in the years that followed. The pattern of history has changed; once it endured, now it is instant history, like art, a series of happenings. How fanciful to think that the history books might remember Vietnam like Culloden, or Waterloo. So, also, in two or three years people would say — ‘Oh, yes, who was he, this Palach?’ And Vlado would light a cigar, fill a glass of wine, and say, ‘Ah well, it was in the past, all in the past you know. Share a little wine with me, the compliments of the management.
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