faustus: (comedy)
( Jul. 26th, 2008 04:40 pm)
Andy Hamilton
Andy Hamilton,
originally uploaded by Andrew M Butler.
There's at least one item I'm going to in the festival then. Tickets on sale Monday.
faustus: (gorilla)
( Jul. 26th, 2008 05:00 pm)
Tescos Back Down?
Tescos Back Down?,
originally uploaded by Andrew M Butler.
A month or so back Tescos introduced a tough love policy where you either had to join the single queue at the so-called Express Tills (claustrophobic, hot as behind the chicken oven, cramped, impossible to pack, get lost behind other customers) or at the Self-Service Tills (never work, encourages you to steal, steals your points, does people out of a job). If you have a trolley you can you use a Proper Till, but I hear stories of people being refused service because they had two items in their trolleys.

I note the disappearance of the suggestion box, and the increasing unhappiness of the staff. They produced a sign claiming "1283 more customers served in two minutes last week", but I didn't see any stop watch.

Now things are to change - let's hope for the better. If not for the grammatical.
faustus: (heaven)
( Jul. 26th, 2008 06:45 pm)
XXXV: Thomas M. Disch, On Wings of Song (1979)

It must say something that my earliest reading of sf included both E.E. Doc Smith and Thomas M. Disch, and that I was reading the New Wave before I had a real sense of what the Old Wave was. My guess is I read Disch's spoof interview in New Worlds 10 with R.G. Allbard, author of Rash fairly early on, certainly before knowing who Ballard was. When venturing into the adult library during a similar period I discovered Ballard and Dick, and then (having been turned onto Vonnegut) Jack Trevor Storey and John Sladek - specifically The Müaut;ller-Föaut;kket Effect. Somewhere along that line of reading I must have connected back to Disch.

This would have been prior to the Minnesota Sequence - there were the various disaster novels, several collections of short stories and I even found some of the poetry. Whilst Disch was clearly a master ironist, his fiction seemed relentlessly downbeat, without the sense of psychic fulfilment that the ending of, say, The Drowned World had. Aliens invade and human fight back - unsuccessfully. A hero is imprisoned for a crime he did not commit, and is killed. There is no up escalator.

Whilst I bought my copy of On Wings of Song 18 October 1991 from Murder One (presumably on the way to the PKD event) I must have read it earlier than that, probably in hard back. As a mark of rememberance and as part of an on-going project I've alluded to before, it was time for a re-read )

For those of you who have already read the novel, or who are unafraid of spoilers, I've written about it in different terms at Solar Flares, a space I've set up for my exploration of 1970s sf.
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