We had an extraordinary experience watching Spielberg and Cruise's War of the Worlds the other night. The one thing to say is that it is undeniably resonant and powerful art - if the test for that is an ability to unsettle you, to linger in your day- and night-dreams. But you're also left wondering about the interior life of these creators. What enables them to render such a vision of poetic carnage?
What we're reading
- Our daily surfing, quickly annotated
For full list, go to Del.icio.us/newintegrity
Recent Posts
- Guardian article on Soft Power and the Labour Leadership
- Publicity material for Indra Adnan, author of 'Call Me Soft'
- Sharing responsibility for Rochdale
- Use your imagination
- Respect (just a little bit...)
- The grounds of friendliness
- Playing around with the Universe
- The Mogul and the Writer look towards 'Post-8'
- Hoodie Two Shoes
- How it could have been even GR8R
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