Now I can definitely see myself reading this in Malibu! Read from an edited extract from the introduction to a new edition of The War of the Worlds published by the Folio Society then meet me at the beach. I'll be the one in the aluminum foil hat.
The book foresees a future of escalating outrage, against which a numbed population is helpless. Cutting the narrator free from his safe haven, his cloying domesticity, Wells outlines a Pilgrim's Progress for his own times. A road novel with a respectable citizen, unhoused, walking towards London, paddling along the Thames, squatting in an abandoned suburban villa. War fever brought home. It could happen here.
[Spaceeba, Misha! (my man in Coney Island exploiting my new found embarassment...sci-fi)]
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