I've Seen The Future, Brother, And It's Murder

 Dystopias are inherently conservative.  They project contemporary trends into a future where all their negative implications are realised and all their benefits fall away. Human beings, they tell us, cannot be trusted with science- and new technologies will always be used to oppress and destroy- so turn your back on progress and stick with the tested verities of  family, home and the boy or girl next door. Don't go up to the big city, child, stay here in the village and help mum and dad raise goats. Above all, be safe.

No, I don't like Brave New World. I don't like its snooty cynicism about human nature and I don't think it's much cop as a novel either. Characterisation is minimal, ambiguity has gone walkabout. The first thirty or forty pages are devoted to the itemisation of a process of baby-manufacture which was always fanciful and which actual scientific progress has rendered terribly wide of the mark- which means, apart from anything else- that it's boring. Nothing dates faster than prophecy. The satire is broad, unsubtle- in the manner of undergraduate review. And why in the name of Ford is a consumerist society that has scrubbed out its history full of people named for the heroes of international communism? A girl called Lenina? Give me a break. Maybe if I read on I'll be given a cogent reason- but I'm not going to enjoy reading on. 

It's all so terribly 20th century.

Night Calls

My mother called for us twice in the night. Once at three and again at five. The first time she'd forgotten what she wanted by the time I got to her, the second time she needed the toilet. I was a little stern on the first occasion, not angry exactly, but stern.  The second time we suggested she get back into bed after returning from the bathroom and she said "I don't go to bed at five o'clock" and we said "Five in the morning" and she burst out laughing. 

This morning we asked the carers to dress her and sit her out in a chair. Perhaps she'll sleep better for having gone through the motions of getting up.