Authors Electric

I never had E M Forster down as a reliable predictor of future inventions. He is remembered chiefly for novels in which nicely brought up English girls rebel against the class system that imprisons them, taking charge of their own lives and often causing havoc on the way.  When set against gorgeous backgrounds such as Tuscany, these stories make for ravishing films, most notably Merchant Ivory’s A Room With a View .  Florence: a ravishing setting Photo by  Maegan White  from  Pexels     But recently, as lockdown has forced us all into new patterns of (in)activity, each confined to our own Unit of Habitable Accommodation*, my mind has kept going back to one of Forster’s short stories I read as a teenager, decades ago.  The Machine Stops is – as far as I know – Forster’s only venture into science fiction (happy to be proved wrong, let me know, dear reader). As such I wouldn’t expect it to be particularly prescien...

Of Chairs and Books.. When I worked as a supply teacher, it was always a matter of concern as to where I should sit in the staffroom.  I knew that permanent staff usually had their own chairs, their places of safety where they could relax for a few minutes with some easy conversation, until the bell went and called them back to duty. How many times have I stood uncertainly hovering, until I was sure of a spare chair? It wasn’t deference or a sense of unworthiness that made me hesitate. Somehow I knew how important those chairs were to their occupants, a small home-from-home in the challenging world of school.   At home, I have my own precious armchair , my own ‘girl cave’ actually, because it’s much more than a chair. I think I could live there, you know, with only occasional sorties to the kitchen or the ‘facilities’ and the odd visit from friends. Maybe I will when I’m really old and doddery (even more doddery that is). I think some very old people do ‘live ‘ in...