Disguised as a childrens book, this novel delivers a strong social commentary for adults, on working faster and faster, ever more efficiently, while losing the capability of living a satisfied life. (c.f: slow life)
Published in 1973, the utopia of Michael Ende (Neverending story) is eerily familiar for our modern society, e.g:
> You've no idea the kind of life I lead these days. Things aren't the way they used to be - times are changing. Over where I'm working now, everything's done in double-quick time. We all work like fury. One whole floor a day, that's what we have to sling together, day after day. Yes, it isn't like it used to be. Everything's organized - every last move we make...
> Momo listened closely as he rambled on, and the longer she listened the less enthusiastic he sounded. Suddenly he lapsed into silence and massaged his face with his work-roughened hands.
> "I've been talking rubbish," he said sadly. "I'm drunk again, Momo, that's the trouble. I often get drunk these days, there's no denying it, but that's the only way I can stomach the thought of what we're doing over there. To an honest bricklayer like me, it goes against the grain. Too little cement and too much sand, if you know what that means. Four or five years is all those buildings will last, then they'll collapse if anyone so much as blows his nose. Shoddy workmanship from top to bottom, but that's not the worst of it. Those tenements we're putting up aren't places for people to live in, they're - they're hen coops. It's enough to make you sick. Still, why should I care as long as I get my wages at the end of the week ? Yes, times are changing all right. It used to give me a kick when we built something worthwhile, but now... Someday, when I've made enough money, I'm going to quit this job and do something different."
Published in 1973, the utopia of Michael Ende (Neverending story) is eerily familiar for our modern society, e.g:
> You've no idea the kind of life I lead these days. Things aren't the way they used to be - times are changing. Over where I'm working now, everything's done in double-quick time. We all work like fury. One whole floor a day, that's what we have to sling together, day after day. Yes, it isn't like it used to be. Everything's organized - every last move we make...
> Momo listened closely as he rambled on, and the longer she listened the less enthusiastic he sounded. Suddenly he lapsed into silence and massaged his face with his work-roughened hands.
> "I've been talking rubbish," he said sadly. "I'm drunk again, Momo, that's the trouble. I often get drunk these days, there's no denying it, but that's the only way I can stomach the thought of what we're doing over there. To an honest bricklayer like me, it goes against the grain. Too little cement and too much sand, if you know what that means. Four or five years is all those buildings will last, then they'll collapse if anyone so much as blows his nose. Shoddy workmanship from top to bottom, but that's not the worst of it. Those tenements we're putting up aren't places for people to live in, they're - they're hen coops. It's enough to make you sick. Still, why should I care as long as I get my wages at the end of the week ? Yes, times are changing all right. It used to give me a kick when we built something worthwhile, but now... Someday, when I've made enough money, I'm going to quit this job and do something different."