Market Farm E-Book

Nicholas Bradbury

• Herausgeber: Dedalus
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Beschreibung

Market Farm is a Swiftian satire on the untrammelled free market thinking that helped usher in the current financial crisis. In its concept, it pays homage to George Orwell's Animal Farm and engages the reader in an amusing way with the causes and likely outcomes of the crisis we are all facing. The story follows the fortunes of three characters: Erroll, a bull who is an eternal optimist; Merlin, a donkey who is a down- to-earth pessimist; and Lily, a chicken who is largely timid and confused. While focusing on the damage wrought by the financial crisis, Market Farm examines its deeper causes and takes passing swipes at other problems of modern life. These include the cult of fine food, the rise of the welfare state, pollution, obesity, social disorder, the domination of the political process by the media, and even the rise of the internet and phenomena such as Twitter.

Leseprobe

Dedalus Original Fiction in Paperback

Market Farm

Nicholas Bradbury was born in Lagos, Nigeria, where his father worked as an architect. From the age of four he grew up in Yorkshire and later in Warwickshire. His career has encompassed government, banking and public relations in England, Canada and Hong Kong. He now lives with his wife and son in Oxford.

Market Farm is his first novel.

based on a true story

“Money mediates transactions; ritual mediates experience, including social experience. Money provides a standard for measuring worth; ritual standardises situations, and so helps us to evaluate them. Money makes a link between the present and the future, so does ritual. The more we reflect on the richness of the metaphor, the more it becomes clear that this is no metaphor. Money is only an extreme and specialised type of ritual.”

Mary Douglas (via Will Self)

Acknowledgement

Many people have encouraged me in life, and my wife and son, as well as friends, continue to do so. Some people have also given small but important encouragements to me in relation to writing, especially Gianni Celati, Saul Bellow and Margaret Atwood. All deserve my thanks, while the latter deserve my apology for having put off the task in any seriousness for far too long. For his great help with moving this work to publication, and his other kindnesses to me and my family over many years, my deep appreciation goes to Adam Williams. Finally, my gratitude goes to Jüri Gabriel and Dedalus for their bold decision to back an unpublished writer.

Preface

You may know of Animal Farm. The animals overthrew the farmer and his men and set up their own farm. They thought they would be free. But the pigs, and in particular those led by Napoleon, took over. After that, things did not work out well at all for most of the animals. In fact, things turned out even worse than was recorded at the time.

It was not the only farm to undergo a transformation, however. There was another farm where the animals overthrew the farmer and established their own rule. They too thought they would be free. Yet in the end, things did not work out well there either, although in a different way. In fact, things will turn out worse on this farm than many of its animals suspect. They call it Market Farm.

Contents

Title

Dedalus Original Fiction in Paperback

Dedication

Quote

Acknowledgement

Preface

Running Free

Foxes!

Land Reform

Nose Rings

The Teachings of Old Erasmus

The Invisible Snout

The Factory

Playing Dominos

Puppet Shows and Entertainers

The Agronomists

The Harvest Pie

Cleaning Up

The Fat of the Land

Young Bloods

The New Treadmills

The Cabbage Tournays

The Freedom Tree is Pruned

The Great Paperchase

Mountains and Molehills

A Taste of Prosperity

The Chickens Come Home to Roost

The Great Winnowing

The Election of Squeaky

The Hole Gets Deeper

Plus Ça Change

Copyright

Running Free

It was a quiet day on Market Farm. The pigs, inclined as usual to laziness and good living, were to be seen wandering about the yard before sauntering off to the Farm House to enjoy a convivial afternoon discussing just how well everything had gone in the past year – indeed in the many years since they had taken over. Chickens scratched for corn, the sheep lay in the fields and the horses went about their labours diligently but unhurriedly, while the cows wandered obediently to the cowsheds for milking. Even the dogs, who had in the distant past been objects of fear on the farm, had grown fat and indolent as the largely trouble free years had gone by.

Not every day was so well ordered, nor the work so easy. By and large, however, life was accepted by all those on the farm for what it was. It could be better, but it could be worse, and the stable life and the quiet contentment had led to easy-going relations among the animals of the farm. Nowhere was this more apparent than in the friendships that had grown, which may not have been likely in earlier ages.

Just such an association had arisen between three animals who had in recent years become the firmest of friends, Merlin, Erroll and Lily. The trio were taking a leisurely stroll, chatting of this and that, when the subject turned to the Farm Council. The farm was managed on behalf of the animals by the pigs through the Council, which held its meetings every week in the Farm House and for which elections were held every four years. Although all of the pigs held rather similar views on what was good for the farm, there were sufficient divergences of opinion for two groups to have taken shape over time. These became known as the blues and the pinks, following the colours they wore at election time.

Merlin was a greying donkey who often said little. When he did, he was often accused of cynicism – though to his mind, he merely saw things as they were and expressed himself accordingly. So it was today.

“Blue and pink, it’s all the same,” said Merlin, in his usual flat, emotionless tone. “Whatever group is in charge, the farm goes about its business. And of course the pigs make sure that they are well rewarded for not getting in the way too much.”

Undeniably, the pigs reserved a portion of whatever was produced on the farm for their own use, to nourish their all-important brains, by means of the Annual Tithe, which produce was stored in the great Tithe Barn near the Farm House. But as they pointed out, this tithe was also used in many other ways beneficial to the farm and its animals. It was used to feed the dogs who were to guard against intruders; to store up grain in case the harvest failed; and to trade with the Great Outside, to buy things that the farm itself could not provide.

Lily ruffled her feathers at Merlin’s criticism. She was an innocent young chicken, kind hearted and always ready to think good of any animal, though usually quite timid in her views and actions.

“It’s only natural that the pig should manage the farm’s affairs and hold sway on the Farm Council, they’re clearly the cleverest and most articulate animals,” she said, as if repeating a mere commonplace. “I know some animals question whether it’s right that they should do less of the physical labour than we other animals do. But I think that their work, the brain work I mean, and telling the farm animals what to do, must be very taxing. I could never do it. I think it’s much more difficult and important than building or ploughing or hoeing or sowing or reaping. Any animal can do those.”

Erroll agreed, after a fashion. He was a strapping bullock just entering his prime, full of the energy and optimism of youth, and never afraid to express himself or to leap into action.

“The pigs are farm animals just like us, so they must have the best interests of Market Farm at heart. In any case, the most important point is that all of us animals, from the largest to the smallest, are free – free from tyranny,” he bellowed, aping one of the rhetorical flourishes sometimes used by the pigs.

Indeed it was true. Freedom, not tithes and produce, was what Market Farm was all about. Freedom was what had been fought for long ago, and the animals’ triumph over tyranny was symbolised by the Freedom Tree, a gnarled old oak which had been the site of an important battle in which the animals had wrested control of the farm from the ancient rule of humans in a tide of revolution. Above it hung a carefully carved plaque that proclaimed “freedom for all”.

It was beneath this tree that the occasional “Freedom Meetings” were held, where any animal could get up and air his or her views on any subject. This, at least, was the theory, although in practice, the pigs insisted on a more orderly agenda. Otherwise, as they said, matters could “slip from hoof and trotter”, and chaos would surely ensue.