Decided to kick start my reading over the break by borrowing a few books from the library at work, one of which was Huxley's Brave New World. The last time I read it I was a teenager, probably quite an impressionable one, for I distinctly remember the sense of alarm the novel generated. This time round I was far more struck by how odd Huxley's dystopia is, and how very personally so. Surely this is the funniest novel of this genre?
The conversation in the seduction scene involving the pneumatic lady, whose name I forget, and the Savage is laugh-out-loud stuff and not for one moment do we take any of this seriously. In fact the characterisation throughout is non-existent. What, then, keeps us reading? In my case I read the novel in a day just enjoying the extravagance of it all, enjoying the chance to escape to an intriguing new world, even though I knew I should be tut-tutting in disapproval.
I suspect Huxley was as much attracted to his vision of the future as he was repelled by it. He certainly makes details like the ubiquitous soma eerily attractive. Surely every reader at some point can't help but imagine ingesting half a gramme or so?
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