Imagine a world where fascism is on the rise. The rich keep getting richer. Racists and misogynists and homophobes are loud, and getting louder. Billions of land animals and trillions of aquatic life are killed for human consumption each year – and millions more animals are pointlessly tested on for cruel experiments. AI is threatening to destroy not only livelihoods, art, common sense and generally the joy of the human experience, but the planet too. High-profile pedophiles aren’t being convicted. No one can afford to have homes or families or fun. And Hannibal has still not been renewed for a fourth season.
Imagine all that is just the tip of the melting iceberg of a global shit show.
Then imagine, on a personal level, the industry you have wanted to be part of all your life has consistently rejected you and shows no sign of changing its mind – but it’s crumbling and you’re not sure you want to be a part of it now anyway. So you don’t know what you want to do with your life anymore. You’ve lost your ‘big dream’, and it used to underpin everything. So you stop working on it. And you start to wonder if you’ve taken enough chances, followed enough ideas, taken enough risks. You know you should appreciate everything you have, because you’ve got a lot to be grateful for, but you know there’s something missing. The thing that makes you go ah, yes, that’s what I’m for, that’s what I’m supposed to be doing. The thing that gives your thoughts order, because right now your brain is just humming incoherently and you want to turn it off and turn up at the same time, but you don’t know which, so you do nothing.
Right, so you’ve imagined all that. Now it’s time to come up with a solution that will make everything better. Think really hard about this. What decision, big or small, could make a difference? What’s the natural next step you would take?
If you chose ‘use most of my life savings for a two-year master’s programme in literature’, then you and I had the exact same thought. Congratulations!
So yeah, this is a little note to announce that I have been officially accepted by a university and will begin my postgraduate studies this October. Apologies, it seems I can’t simply announce that I’m doing something cool without being grimly facetious. On the one hand this feels like an expensive and time-consuming distraction from all of the above, and also a less effective alternative to therapy, but I do genuinely feel excited for the first time in a long time. It has been a dream of mine to study literature again, it’s a supreme privilege I can just about afford, and while I hadn’t imagined myself doing it during circumstances such as these, what better time is there? It feels important – and maybe even necessary – to strengthen my critical thinking skills right now.
While I shall be immersing myself in the works of long-dead writers very soon, I have a novella of my own that I’m hoping to release before I start university. After that, for the next two years Dystopic will be less about the bleak books I’m reading and more about the bleak books I’m studying. I hope you’ll enjoy the journey with me. I also hope I have time to write on here semi-regularly while studying with a full-time job and four dogs. Eek. Wish me luck.
Okay, that is all. Thank you for reading. Please go about your business.
If you enjoyed this article…
…may I recommend my dystopian novel, These Unnatural Men? Available in paperback and ebook.
The public call her a cold-blooded murderer. An executioner. A killer for hire.
Nieve Hindeman is a euthanasist.
She is one of hundreds of professionals relieving patients of their pain every day. To her, euthanasia is simply a medical solution to a medical problem.
But when Nieve starts to treat a voluntary patient – a man who is physically healthy but choosing to die – she starts to question the work she does. How can she prove that someone’s desire to die is genuine? Can a patient ever be psychologically terminally ill? And is a life ever not worth saving?
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