to treasure:
George Orwell Coming Up for Air 1939
from a rather fine essay on Lady Chatterley's Sneakers by David Trotter in the LRB
It gave me the feeling that I’d bitten into the modern world and discovered what it was really made of. That’s the way we’re going nowadays. Everything slick and streamlined, everything made out of something else. Celluloid, rubber, chromium-steel everywhere, arc-lamps blazing all night, glass roofs over your head, radios all playing the same tune, no vegetation left, everything cemented over, mock-turtles grazing under the neutral fruit-trees. But when you come down to brass tacks and get your teeth into something solid, a sausage for instance, that’s what you get. Rotten fish in a rubber skin. Bombs of filth bursting inside your mouth.
from a rather fine essay on Lady Chatterley's Sneakers by David Trotter in the LRB
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