The Grey Boneyard of Fifties England
Iain Sinclair, 22 August 1996
“... John Minton. You can smell the wild garlic, the turpentine. Rustic excesses out of David Rudkin or Edward Bond, scythe-carrying yokel mobs baying for blood, are intercut with a Paul Nash vision of the falling German aircraft (‘insignia painted on the wing-tips’) in a clear blue sky, black smoke over the green-houses. A poetic that is reliant on a system of ... ”