I remember the first time I read Harlan Ellison’s I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream. It wasn’t just a story; it was an assault. A literary thunderclap. Most science fiction of the Cold War era promised us rockets, aliens, perhaps a better tomorrow wrapped in chrome optimism. Ellison, instead, offered us a world … Continue reading I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream
Month: August 2025
The Tale of the Broken Flower Pot
A Story from the Settle Flowerpot Festival I’ve spent a fair bit of time in the Yorkshire Dales this year so far, so, I’ve crafted a little story inspired by Settle’s penchant for flamboyant flower pots. Enjoy. In the crook of an old dry-stone wall, on the edge of Settle’s bustling village square, there lived … Continue reading The Tale of the Broken Flower Pot
Grumbling My Way into the 21st Century: Reading Brat
Cover image © Gabriel Smith / Scribner UK (or Penguin Press) I’ll admit it: modern fiction and I don’t exactly see eye to eye. In fact, we’ve been glaring at each other across the room for years now, occasionally muttering under our breaths about how the other one’s gone downhill since the ‘90s. My own … Continue reading Grumbling My Way into the 21st Century: Reading Brat
In Which the Revolutionary Forgets His Own House Is a Revolution in Miniature
I must confess, I’ve always found Marx’s personal contradictions far more instructive than the reams of dense German prose in Das Kapital. Anyone can theorise about the inevitable triumph of the proletariat; it takes a truly remarkable mind to call for the abolition of the bourgeois family while quietly impregnating the maid and letting your … Continue reading In Which the Revolutionary Forgets His Own House Is a Revolution in Miniature
Dialectics, or How Karl Marx Ruined My Shandy
There are few things more dangerous to a peaceful evening than a Marxist in full flow. One minute you’re happily contemplating the head on your shandy, the next you’re being lectured about 'historical inevitability' by someone who’s never held a job long enough to be sacked. The conversation usually begins with the inevitable: “Dialectics is … Continue reading Dialectics, or How Karl Marx Ruined My Shandy
Wording 