Lies have become alternative facts and truth irrelevant in the face of power, while we all give up our privacy
In Book 8 of The Odyssey we read that the gods weave misfortune so that later generations have something to sing about.
It wasn’t a god but a conman who now leads me to describe how – some decades ago, while working as a labourer, with one child and twins on the way – I was struggling to write my first novel. It was going badly in every way. I couldn’t make the novel work, and we were living in desperate straits.