If you’re writing a book and you want me to give you my money, here’s a simple tip: set it in the apocalyptic aftermath of a nuclear war and I’ll send my money your way, no questions asked. You see, I’m a complete sucker for post-apocalyptic stories and have been ever since I first read Children Of The Dust and When The Wind Blows as a kid.

But despite my enthusiasm for that genre I can’t help but feel that it needs an update so it can move on from its golden era in the 1980s, when the scenario of nuclear war between Nato and the Warsaw Pact powers formed the backdrop of pretty much every post-apocalyptic novel or screenplay. In most of these stories human civilisation in its current form ends at some point in the mid-1980s and for decades afterwards the survivors cling to remnants of that age, as exemplified by the scene in Threads where a group of children watch Words and Pictures on a faded and warped VHS tape.

Post-apocalyptic fiction of the 1980s was so vivid, realistic and compelling that it can be hard to imagine a scenario where survivors of global cataclysm are doing anything but picking through the ruins of 1980s culture. Yet this is the kind of thing we need to get away from. It’s the 2000s now, so for a post-apocalyptic story to be believable it has to have some relationship to the contemporary world.

That’s why I was excited to hear about “Mr. Burns, A Post-Electric Play“, in which a post-nuclear society clings to its recollections of classic Simpsons episodes and eventually builds a new culture around them and the other memories they help to dredge up. From the official blurb:

What will endure when the cataclysm arrives, when the grid fails, society crumbles, and we’re faced with the task of rebuilding? Anne Washburn’s imaginative dark comedy propels us forward nearly a century, following a new civilization stumbling into its future. A paean to live theater, and to the resilience of Bart Simpson through the ages, Mr. Burns is an animated exploration of how the pop culture of one era might evolve into the mythology of another.

And from this glowing review in the New York Times:

[A] single Simpsons episode [Cape Feare] becomes a treasure-laden bridge, both to the past and into the future. And in tracing a story’s hold on the imaginations of different generations, the play is likely to make you think back – way back – to narratives that survive today from millenniums ago. Every age, it seems, has its Homers.

I’ve not had a chance to see this play yet as it’s only running in New York, but I hope it comes to the UK at some point. If it does, I will most certainly be giving it my money.

(via CartoonBrew)

When Google Reader died I switched to using Feedly. I like it a lot – enough that I don’t miss Google Reader – but one thing that’s been a bit of a headache is easily subscribing to RSS feeds from within Chrome.

In the days of Google Reader it was pretty straightforward but the Feedly transition made that process a lot harder. Various Chrome extensions failed to solve the problem, subscribing me to comments feeds instead of main feeds, or simply failing to find feeds at all. Before long I’d reached the last resort of viewing source, doing a Ctrl-F for “.rss”, then copying and pasting that into the Feedly web interface. Going through those steps is enough to make you think that RSS is indeed doomed.

Anyway, I’ve just found out how to sort this problem out once and for all, integrating Feedly with Chrome just as Reader once was. The solution is posted over here at Coderwall by Rod Hilton and will let you add RSS feeds to Feedly using the standard Chrome RSS extension. It’s just like in the good old days and will allow me to spend a few more months pretending to myself that RSS has a future.

Earlier this morning I found myself writing a long, waffly comment on Facebook. As I typed out the final sentence a question struck me: why am I writing this? It’s not as though more than four people will ever read it, and Facebook – an “ever-burning fire of our memories” – is not the place to store such ponderings for posterity. So why bother?

Then I remembered – there is a reason why I’m writing long comments on Facebook…

…I have absolutely loads of work to do.

We recently went on holiday to Fowey in Cornwall. It’s a bit hilly and out of the way but it’s a gorgeous place. This is the view from the house we stayed in:

While we were there, we noticed nice signs on some of the houses which seem to have been designed and made in the same place. We took photos of them and I thought I’d post them here.

In 18 Harbourside you can see the hallmarks of this sign-maker, with the scorched-clay cream and terracotta colours and concentric circles emanating from the centre. The designer’s interest in typography is also evident. The font reminded us of the famous Computer typeface, but that might not have been intentional.

That famous Computer font in full (sort of)

This next one is the first example of the boat motif appearing in these signs. Fowey is a harbour town so boats are a bit of a thing there.

Again, lots of attention has been paid to the typeface, which is a block Roman with slightly sloping serifs. Staring at it long enough you start to see some imperfections in how the type is laid out, but that’s to be expected as this wasn’t done in Photoshop.

Here’s the smallest and most boring one.

We spotted it towards the end of the trip, after we’d seen all the other signs, and only photographed it because we recognised the style. If I’d walked past this sign on its own I don’t think I’d have given it a second glance. It’s still a nice sign though, especially the style of the numbers, although the “B” sits a little too low.

So now we’ve got 38B out of the way let’s move on to the last two which, you’ll be pleased to hear, both feature boats.

Number 45 is quite a simple and compact arrangement with only three elements: the number, the boat, and a couple of squiggles representing the sea. The style of the numbers is a bit more distinctive than in the previous signs where the designer seemed to be using other typefaces as a template. He or she seems to be discovering a form of their own, which is nice to see.

As good as it is though, number 45 is a test run for the best of the bunch: number 53.

The chef d’oeuvre

This sign wins on every score. Firstly, the concentric circle effect has been toned down – it’s still there, part of the sign-maker’s design language, but it’s not in your face like  on 23 Beam Reach and it doesn’t do any fancy spiralling like on 18 Harbourside.

Secondly, the composition, with the boat centred above the numbers and the mast lining up with the left hand side of the 5. There’s a lot of empty space in the sign but it’s being put to work by how well the sign is laid out.

Thirdly, the design of the boat itself. If you ask me it has more character: a ‘working’ boat, unlike the others which look like yachts for leisure. I know nothing about boats though so maybe you shouldn’t ask me.

And then finally there’s the numbering, which takes the distinctive, personal style of number 45 above to the next level. It has some similarities to Souvenir, a classic 1970s typeface (from 1914, natch) but it really has its own personality.

Next time we go to Fowey I’m going to try to find more of these signs and to figure out where they come from. In the meantime I’ve created a set on Flickr with the photos above. If you know anything about them, leave a comment!