If I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream is Ellison’s scream of despair, then “Repent, Harlequin!” Said the Ticktockman is his snarl of defiance. Where one story traps us in eternal torment beneath the circuits of a god-machine, this tale sets us against a more mundane, and in many ways more sinister tyrant: the … Continue reading “Repent, Harlequin!” – A Meditation on Time, Tyranny, and the Tick of the Clock
Tag: Literature
I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream
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
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
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
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
Wording 