First Days of a Better Nation: Language between Dystopia and Utopia

November 30, 2018 Sarah Grey

There’s an inscription on a wall in Scotland’s parliament: Work as if you live in the early days of a better nation.

In his new novel Walkaway, the Canadian-British writer and activist Cory Doctorow imagines what it would mean to do exactly that in a world ravaged by capitalist inequality and climate change. Set in Toronto about a century in the future, this intricately crafted thriller uses deft linguistic innovation (more on that in a moment) and political extrapolation to envision the tension and conflict of an all-too-familiar dystopia existing side by side with a counter-utopia of freedom and possibility.

Make Queen Queer Again

November 26, 2018 Jordy Cummings

queen-live-on-stage-during-the-crazy-tour-on-the-second-of-two-nights-at-the-apollo-theatre-in-manchester-england-on-27th-november-1979-photo-by-alan-perry-2.jpg

An apocryphal moment has Sid Vicious walking by Freddie Mercury in a recording studio, circa 1978. The Sex Pistols were likely recording their vastly overrated Nevermind the Bollocks LP while Queen were likely recording their pop-metal classic Jazz. Ever the charmer, Vicious is said to have approached Mercury and baited that he was the person bringing ballet to the masses. Mercury, dynamite with a laser beam, riposted to Vicious, who he saw as a poseur, “We’re doing our best, Simon Ferocious!” Malcolm McLaren’s boy band may well have been the talk of the town but for the proletariat, it was with Queen. Declasse youth could be punks, but as Neil Davidson pointed out at one of Red Wedge’s panels at Historical Materialism London, to a large extent, it was a trend…

A Walk Through No-Woman’s Land: Reading Isabella Whitney (1545 – 1577), Britain’s First Professional Woman Writer

November 7, 2018 Kate Bradley

London, 1570.

As night falls on London, the urban landscape becomes a no-woman’s land. To go out alone after dark is to take a journey through my own nervous system, assessing at every street corner the hospitability of the streets ahead of me. I do it all the time – I have to – but every journey from bar to bar, from workplace to the train or from home to the shops comes with a mild sense of risk, which increases tenfold whenever I pass a particularly sinister lone lurker or a group of men congregating together.