In the afterward to the Czech edition of Immortality (1992), Kundera distances himself from the role of a social commentator. He stresses that his writings are less concerned with the culture of spectacle and more focused on the notion that every individual possesses an inherent sense of self-worth, shaped by the perceptions of others. This internal self-regard extends into broader social settings. Nonetheless, it's difficult to engage with his exploration of the "terminal paradoxes" of modern times without recognizing the incisive cultural critique woven throughout. For the first time in this novel, Kundera moves away from the setting of socialist Czechoslovakia, choosing instead a locale that is both his adopted city and distinctly "Western." The Paris he portrays is modern, brimming with consumerism, technology, and image manipulation. Kundera notes, "for contemporary man reality is a continent visited less and less often and, besides, justifiably disliked."

In the afterward, the author explains that the novel investigates two main themes: the connection between a person and their reflection, and the nature of homo sentimentalis. This exploration addresses topics like the increasing prominence of sentimentality in cultural and political spheres, the intrusive role of image creators (notably the media), the subsequent decline in privacy, the transformation of personal desires into perceived rights, particularly the right to inquire and seek answers, and the proclamation of individual rights as a fundamental metaphysical necessity.

Beyond the two themes already discussed, I would add the idea of "immortality," both on a personal and societal level, as a core "theme" for exploring different variations. This concept acts as a guiding principle, shaping our behaviors and responses. As in his other works, Kundera is deeply involved with the issue of ideology—the elevation of an "idea," whether it be socialism, kitsch, feminism, or in this case, "imagology," which is the creation and upkeep of an image—over logic or human compassion.

Much like litost in The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, or lehkost (lightness) in The Unbearable Lightness of Being, a singular yet complex idea forms the foundation of everything, with nesmrtelnost (immortality) being explored and examined like a gem to reveal its various facets. Given Kundera's persistent questioning and dismantling of cherished illusions, it's understandable that readers might feel disoriented in his intricate web of ironies and struggle to find stable ground.

Nevertheless, as Kundera challenges many of the core beliefs of modern life, he still views even his most flawed characters with a sense of amused affection. For example, Bernard Bertrand might be a "complete ass," but he isn't entirely beyond redemption. However, Kundera does not provide his readers with the typical novelistic comfort of connecting with virtuous and likable characters.