I’ve often thought of Aldous Huxley as the bastard child of H.P. Lovecraft and Carl Jung, conceived in a pile of experimental psychedelics. You can find a lot of Huxley’s anxieties about a changing world reflected in Brave New World, from the commercial commodification of art and culture as a form of mental dissociation through consumption to the concerns about European genetic pools “deterioriating” over time, at least in his early life.