Set to marry Gormanskoï, the Premier Prince Presumptive, our beautiful heroine Hortense has been exiled to Queneau’stown, where she finds herself in a real-life production of Hamlet—or is it Hatmel, the original Poldevian tale scandalously plagiarized by that Englishman William Shahkayspear?
The consequence of a society that places money at its centre is that forms of mental and physical slavery come to dominate human life.
The vast majority of ways in which money circulates have enormously destructive consequences. Human relationships inevitably suffer as a result, becoming insipid, superficial, mechanical reductions of what is possible. Tenderness is rarely achieved on the scale it could be because individuals are trapped within the structures of employment. In the current system most human beings have little knoledge of the full spectrum of the emotional and intellectual vocabulary that the species is capable of achieving.
Any free thinking individual must do everything within their power to escape the obscene working conditions that prevail in the free-market system. This is equivalent to, and no less imperative than, for example, fleeing your country because it has descended into war.
When money is the sole objective of an action, a certain degree of idiocy is inevitable.
The horror of menial work as currently practised should not be underestimated. To spend forty hours a week or more engaged in unceasing cycles of senseless repetition, as do most human beings, is a destructive form of existence for anyone to have to endure.
... bitter flavours gathered in the back of the mouth... the constricting and malevolent influence of a society that is in essence corrupt... the ever-present likelihood of wodespread annihilation... the talk of the town that amounts to so very little... falling into a permanent state of degradation... the fashioning of a fastidious brutality... the achievement of efficiency at any price...
In order to rebuild, destruction is indispensable. To clean the air we breathe daily, we must previously have polluted it. To sell ecological products, we must first infect the world with new species of virus and bacteria.
He convinced himself he was Satie, overcome by a clearly grotesque rush of emotion to his head. He foresaw that he too would scorn traditional forms and that the trash he'd pen would adopt the rough shape of an acorn or a fig.
The level of the seas is rising, ethnic shantytowns are burning, and terrorism is spreading and istrivialised in the name of divine, inflammatory curses and grotesque emotions all prompted by identity crises. Everything is bought and sold as in clearance sales organised by gambling addicts.
The truth of the story is held in the words. All that would remain of him would be the dream of a derisory existence. Of a tailless shooting star, sentenced by the world's sound and fury to sudden, silent extinction.
