My father is not a fan of fiction. The implications of this could be cruel and boring – the most onerous of Künstlerroman clichés – but there is no Oedipal struggle for recognition in my family. It is just that my father – who is well read in the Classics, as well as mid-century American […]
Why am I – as Steve Miller once sang, ‘right here at home’ – at Anobium? I had initially considered answering this question – posed to me by a friend who had considered me a ‘guy who didn’t go in for the bizarre for bizarre’s sake’ – as an essay proper, but then that didn’t quite seem right. […]
I. The Black Suitcase Full of Cash The Russian writer Viktor Pelevin once suggested that the real protagonist of western culture as a black briefcase full of money. Pelevin’s metaphor is one of those ostensibly off-the-cuff, Zizek-esque film-studies truisms that gnaws at you, prompting you to poke around your personal collection for counter-examples and leaving […]
ANOBIUM 