Abstract
“It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen” (Orwell, 1949). The opening lines of 1984 have passed into the collective consciousness, gathering the familiarity that is reserved for great works of literature. The ‘Ministry of Truth’ was Winston Smith's employer and the name is now applied by journalists to the Victorian Government's media unit.Much science fiction has been treated with condescension and the label of approval, ‘literature’, has been applied sparingly, if at all. I have enjoyed the genre since reading The War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells. The terror and adventure of the story of the invasion by Martians held me enthralled, but the real thrill for me as a schoolboy was that much of the early action took place where I lived.
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