A certain weariness came over me at the prospect of this adaptation of Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World; I’m not much in the mood for dystopian doom and gloom right now. But I was wrong to be chary: this is a book that will keep your bedside light burning long into the night. Fred Fordham’s retelling of Huxley’s 1932 novel is so sleek, owing more to the movies than to its original author’s prose – his subtly futuristic illustrations may bring to mind Fritz Lang or even Steven Spielberg (think Minority Report) – and, thanks to this, two things happen. First, the narrative fairly rips along. Second, the novel’s terrible prescience is pushed to the fore, the parallels between Huxley’s imaginary future and our own present suddenly so close, it’s almost painful at moments.
You know the story. “Everybody’s happy now,” insist the citizens of Huxley’s utopian world state – and it’s almost true. In this benumbed realm, physical pain and old age have been eradicated and familial and emotional attachments have disappeared; in place of passion, there is a drug called soma, which promises sexual oblivion. A few human beings, known as Savages, who were born the old-fashioned way, and retain memories of such banned books as the Bible and Shakespeare, are still to be found living in “reservations”, like zoo animals. But everyone else came into being thanks to genetic engineering, bred in bottles and processed into standard adults in uniform batches.
