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
Tag: books
On the Philosophical Inch: Rabelais, Moderation, and the Peculiar Poetry of Bodily Measurement
It’s a curious thing, the way serious literature can sit happily alongside lavatorial humour. In Gargantua and Pantagruel, François Rabelais - physician, monk, and unabashed chronicler of the digestive tract - offers us not only giants, feasts, and bawdy theology, but also the sort of detail one might overhear in a backroom surgery over a … Continue reading On the Philosophical Inch: Rabelais, Moderation, and the Peculiar Poetry of Bodily Measurement
Invisible, My Eye – Reflections on Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man
When Ralph Ellison published Invisible Man in 1952, America was still congratulating itself on having beaten the Nazis and saved democracy. Yet here was a novel calmly pointing out that a good chunk of its own citizens were treated as if they didn’t exist - or rather, as if they existed only when they could … Continue reading Invisible, My Eye – Reflections on Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man
Three Alchemists Walk into a Bar: A Philosopher, a Fraudster, and a Gothic Madman
“Alchemy: the science of turning lead into gold. Or more often, the art of talking a lot of nonsense and charging handsomely for it.” — An old undertaker’s proverb (probably) I’ve always had a fascination with alchemists. Maybe it’s the funeral director in me - the sense of cloaks, secrets, crucibles, and the unspoken transformation of … Continue reading Three Alchemists Walk into a Bar: A Philosopher, a Fraudster, and a Gothic Madman
Maugham’s Cakes and Ale: On the Sacred Art of Not Taking Oneself Too Seriously
There are books one reads, and books one is quietly read by. Somerset Maugham’s Cakes and Ale falls into the latter camp - it observes you from over the rim of its brandy glass, raises a bemused eyebrow, and says absolutely nothing. Not because it’s shy, but because it knows better than to interrupt the theatre of … Continue reading Maugham’s Cakes and Ale: On the Sacred Art of Not Taking Oneself Too Seriously
Wording 