The ABC has reduced me to reading Aldous Huxley's Brave New World... there may be no hope left, ha ha.
It's a good read, but it's nowhere near the scary vision of a possible future that I'd been led to think it was.
Maybe I'm missing something... ha ha...
Maybe after reading Orwell's 1984, for about the millionth time, maybe after watching Kubrik's brilliant retelling of Anthony Burgess' A Clockwork Orange, dystopian visions no longer seems so strange...
Or maybe it was the realisation, slowly formed over years, that art and life, rather than one mimicking the other, are indeed parallel...
Not word for literal word, but very few authors set out to write a "How To Manual"...
They write of what they see - their art is influenced by the life around them...
Orwell wrote of a brutal and oppressive regime that exercised total control over the lives of it's citizens.
A bleak picture of a future, yet to come?
Or a comment on Communist occupied Europe, in 1948...?
Life, art, sometimes it's hard to see where the line between them blurs...
Of course, that's just my thought...
๐
