2015 — 3 September: Thursday
Continued eating1 necessitates the replenishment dodged yesterday. I shall also try to dodge the hordes of legless children being conveyed to their daytime internment camps by their doting parents in their Chelsea tractors. Give me a moment to feel around behind the sofa cushion. It's always possible Junior dropped a sovereign or two...
I fear this...
... is the sort of guff that gives SF a bad name:
... his remarkable hypothesis is only one of the conceptual breakthroughs in this stimulating contribution to literary theory. I will dwell mainly on the three that interest me the most: the relationship of SF to modernism in the arts; the historical periodisation of the genre; and the dramatic challenge to narratology as a field, with implications for the theory of ideology as well as for the analysis of narrative structure itself (of which the time-travel story, with all its ineradicable paradoxes, suddenly becomes the fundamental paradigm). Nor is philosophy itself untouched by the fallout from these dramatic revisions: after all, the phenomenological ego is a temporal matter, and time itself one of its fundamental paradoxes, which neither Husserl nor Heidegger ever laid to rest.
Having reached my present age blissfully unaware of the concept of "narratology" I foolishly asked Mrs Google to clarify its meaning for me. Beware Morlocks!
Something...
... doesn't quite add up, it seems:
I was never paid that much :-)
However...
... unwicked Uncle ERNIE has just splashed out £25 to dear Mama2 and £75 to me. Ev'ry little helps.
Symphony #15...
... by Shostakovich has been steadily growing on me over the last 40 years. Is it time to replace my ancient (1972) non-Dolby cassette yet?