By Tatalo Alamu ￼ ￼
There often comes a period in the life of any society or nation when even its most critical intellects are incapable of making any sense out of what is going on. In such circumstances, there are two major options available to the critical analyst: either to throw up the arms in a gesture of terminal frustration, or to root for meta-fiction.
As the name implies, meta-fiction is fiction raised to the power of infinity, and up to a point where it becomes a replacement reality in its own right. In which case you don’t need to bother about whether you are actually watching a play or dreaming; or whether you are actually dead or part of the cast of a hilarious tragicomedy. We seem to have arrived at that juncture where fanciful reality meshes seamlessly with colourful fiction.
Last week, it was the feast…
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