Logos Multilingual Portal

Select Language



Brian Aldiss (1925)

Poet, playwright, critic, fiction and science-fiction writer Brian W(ilson) Aldiss was born on 18 August 1925 in Dereham, Norfolk, and is the author of more than 75 books. He was educated at Framlingham College, Suffolk, and West Buckland School, Devon, and served in the Royal Signals between 1943 and 1947.
After leaving the army Aldiss worked as a bookseller in Oxford for almost a decade, an experience which provided the setting for his first book, "The Brightfount Diaries" (1955), a volume of short stories. His first science fiction novel, "Non-Stop", was published in 1958 while he was working as literary editor of the Oxford Mail, a post he held between 1958 and 1969. His many prize-winning science fiction titles include "Hothouse" (1962), which won the Hugo Award, "The Saliva Tree" (1966), which was awarded the Nebula, and "Helliconia Spring" (1982), which won both the British Science Fiction Association Award and the John W. Campbell Memorial Award.
Brian Aldiss's autobiographical fiction includes "The Hand-Reared Boy" (1970) and "A Soldier Erect" (1971), and he has also written three volumes of autobiography, "Bury My Heart at W. H. Smith's: A Writing Life" (1990), "The Twinkling of an Eye or My Life as an Englishman" (1998) and "When the Feast is Finished" (1999). He is the author of several poetry collections, including "Home Life with Cats" (1992) and "A Plutonian Monologue on His Wife's Death" (2000).
Several of his books, including "Frankenstein Unbound" (filmed 1990), have been adapted for the cinema. Most recently, his story, "Supertoys Last All Summer Long", was adapted and released as the film AI in 2001. His latest books are "Super-State" (2002) and "Jocasta" (2005), a reworking of Sophocles' classic Theban plays, Oedipus Rex and Antigone.


co more l\'infansia, i so cadaveri vien ciamai adulti e i entra nea società, uno dei nomi pi garbai de l\'inferno. Xé par queo che gavemo paura dei bocia anche se ghe voemo ben: i xé el metro del nostro sfacelo