have been increasingly unmasked in the context of substantial
cut-backs, bailouts, mass unemployment and austerity measures that
have characterised the post-2008, recessionary world. The ideals of
a free-market economy – based on the right to make profits
and amass personal wealth – have been the target of a range
of anti-capitalist protests that highlight the self-serving and
Over the course of the past twenty-five years, as neoliberal economics has transformed the geopolitical landscape, monsters have overrun popular culture. This book explores literary, televisual, filmic and dramatic works from distant and diverse countries. It traces the vampire's evolution from the nineteenth-century past of industrial capitalism to the neoliberal present's accelerated violence and corrupt precarity, and discusses the NBC television mini-series Dracula, perfectly encapsulating our own post-recessionary subjectivity. The book addresses state capitalism but turns readers' attention away from the vampire and towards the ghost, focusing on the ways in which such spectral figures have come to dominate new German theatre. On the biotechnology sector, the book presents three examples: cinematic depictions of the international organ trade in Asia, the BAFTA award winning three-part series In the Flesh broadcast in BBC3, and literary representations of the dehumanised South African poor. The book moves from the global to the local, and charts the ways in which post-2006 house owners are trapped in the house by the current economic situation, becoming akin to its long-term resident ghosts. The ghost estates, reanimated and reimagined by the Irish artists and film-makers, are shown to embody the price paid locally for failures in global economic policy. The preoccupation with states of liminality is encapsulated by showing that the borders of the nation state have become a permeable membrane. Through this membrane, the toxic waste of first world technology seeps out alongside the murderous economic imperatives of the neoliberal agenda.
Social commentary of 1980s Britain in Clive Barker’s Weaveworld
Edward Timothy Wallington
evocative reflection on the times in which it was written. These
were the 1980s, and the decade was marked by a number of dramatic
and unprecedented events: Margaret Thatcher was at the helm of the
British government with her monetarist fiscal policies, austerity
measures, and the call for a return to core values; sexual equality
had gained considerable ground from the tentative gains made in the
irrational premodern residue of messianic religiosity and hysteria about female sexuality; and in Frankenstein (1931) fabulous electrical equipment hums and sparks and sputters in a run-down Gothic turret. Similarly, The Prisoner depicts a post-austerity Britain, modern and affluent, but weighed down by history and tradition. Number 6 drives a Lotus 7, but drives it past the Houses of Parliament, an institution which could be seen as modern and democratic were it not for its backward-looking architecture and the archaic privilege of the upper house. Number 6’s London
Clearly, the role of the State has shifted under
neoliberalism from the provision of social welfare to the facilitation
of global trade, this including the handover of billions of dollars of
public funds in bank bailouts whenever the system that was ‘too
big to fail’ teetered on the abyss (Seymour, 2014 : 13). Such bailouts were coupled with a programme of
so-called ‘austerity’ measures that effectively forced the
the chance to be evacuated, but she stayed with her family.
Fortunately, the bombing of Peterborough proved to be limited. My mother
remembers the uncertainty and austerity of the times, her cousins Fred
and Jim joining the army and the navy respectively, and Italian
prisoners-of-war. It was an era of terror and my mother had one
particular moment of horror. It wasn’t the bomb that hit
The Catholic other in Horace Walpole and Charles Maturin
Women came to show
themselves, the Men to see the women. (Lewis 1995 : 7)
The Church is a site of
magnificence rather than austerity, of display rather than of worship,
and of sexual rather than religious pursuits. It is presided over by a
power-mad monk, rather than an enlightened clergy; the society that
clusters around to hear him is
Ann Radcliffe’s The Italian and Charlotte Dacre’s Zofloya: Or, The Moor
for novelty, but this is no longer a providential device for spiritual
progress, but a demonic impulse in which the gratification of desire is
The garden topos, the scene of nature/nurture in which a father
instructs a daughter in sensibility and austerity, is unravelled in a
particularly complex way Ambrosio adopts Rosario as his ‘son’, attracted
than Thought , p. 286.
102 Turing, ‘Computing Machinery and Intelligence’, p. 453.
103 J.B. Priestley, ‘Uncle Phil on TV’, in The Other Place and Other Stories of the Same Sort (London: William Heinemann, 1954), pp. 70–102.
104 Priestley, ‘Uncle Phil on TV’, p. 75.
105 Priestley, ‘Uncle Phil on TV’, p. 72.
106 Priestley, ‘Uncle Phil on TV’, pp. 72–73.
107 Quoted in David Kynaston, Austerity Britain 1945–51 (London: Bloomsbury, 2007
There is much to be said here, not least in
associating the novel with George Orwell’s
Nineteen-Eighty-Four, that other disenchanted product of
wartime austerity. The passage begins with close attention to the
notion that, under the blitz, Londoners came together in an
amalgamating way, people wishing to be a people in some tribal and
bond-reinforcing way. The indefinite