1984

 

"They can make you say anything--anything--but they can't make you believe it. They can't get inside of you" (137).

C.S. Lewis said that 1984 did not "justify its greater length" for all of its "dead wood" and the "dull, mean little creatures" who populate the pages. His opinion was that Animal Farm did more and better work in conveying all of the dangers and savageries of utilitarian states in far fewer words.

Why say more when you can communicate effectively with less? Why over-elucidate when you can slice to the quick of the soul with a sharply worded metaphor? I tend to agree with this sentiment, as I rarely find a book without any extra "dead wood." A novel can be wonderful and still be a tad too long. Occasionally a text is precisely the perfect length, in which no extraneous fluff or weight can be found to drag down the plot.

While 1984 exists in international consciousness like perhaps few other twentieth century texts do (even for those who have never read it but can still quote lines about Big Brother and thought crimes). I do not believe that we can have too many cautionary tales about the horrifying consequences of giving control to government entities with zero accountability or transparency. A government that doesn't answer to the people that it governs is only a glorified slave owner.

However, despite the outlandish and yet eerie possibility that makes 1984 work as both a trip of the imagination and a timely warning, there is much left to be desired in the under-development of the characters. While I don't have quite as strong a negative reaction as C.S. Lewis did, I can still agree readily with his evaluations.

1. "BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption beneath it ran" (5).

Iconic. 1984 has, for the last several decades, maintained a monopoly on dystopian vernacular. George Orwell impeccably designed a post-war England that combines just the right amounts of novelty terminology and casual violence to create an unforgettable utilitarian landscape.

There is a meanness, a desperation, the indefinable musk of an animal backed into the corner and awaiting its inevitable death, that haunts the story. The ending, which does not resolve the greater issue of the country's total subservience to a surveillance state the likes of which the USSR achieved in East Germany, also leaves the reader with a hopeless sense that the efforts of individuals are meaningless in the face of such complete political control.

Great damage is done when all freedoms are stripped and people trade humanity for a false peace. The afterword of the book speaks in a past tense about the anomalies of this specific government and its many, many overreaches within every aspect of society, as though it has already been eradicated and the author is merely recording researched facts. Perhaps this subversive epilogue is meant to be the small, glimmering sense of hope: eventually, all tyranny perishes. We just don't always get to know when or how.

2. "But he had suddenly understood that in the whole world there was just one person to whom he could transfer his punishment--one body that he could thrust between himself and the rats" (236).

Candor about the human psyche. The more personal aspect of the novel is the relationship between Winston and Julia, which takes on a very unfamiliar patina to those expecting a star-crossed romance that conquers all opposition. The two lovers don't really conquer much of anything, even within their own courtship. Winston views their physical and emotional connection as an inherent act of rebellion, but Julia concentrates only on retrieving as many personal pleasures as she can in a world that despises individualism.

They are selfish, insecure, and completely bereft of any desire or ability to begin much of anything that could be labeled as actual rebellion. Maybe Orwell meant for their relationship to be more of a doomed romance than it now seems to be in the eyes of modern readers, but I tend to think that his rather cynical outlook on the perseverance of love in the midst of persecution may portray something interesting about human nature.

We want to believe that, if the Gestapo once again come banging on doors and the KGB start wiring houses, we ourselves will be the ones to rescue books and people alike from the flames. We wouldn't betray our neighbors. We would revolt against tyranny in both small and large ways from the comfort our own homes. Our love, unlike so many others, would conquer all.

Except that none of us really know if we would be the heroes of the story or simply scared and self-preserving citizens trying to survive impossible situations. We are all susceptible, no matter our intelligence or personal awareness, to the effects of mass brainwashing and plain, simple fear. 

Perhaps the point isn't that we rally behind the victorious cries of a small remnant fighting the evil majority, but rather that we develop empathy for our fellow man. Each person is doing their best, and so are we. One person's resistance against "the machine" may look entirely different from the person next to them, but does that make it any less important or worthwhile?

Perhaps not. And if we realize that maintaining our humanity means remembering that we all fail and falter, but continue to get back up and try again, we may in fact have encountered the very mindset that preserves a free society.

3. "Power is not a means; it is an end. One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes the revolution in order to establish the dictatorship. The object of persecution is persecution. The object of torture is torture. The object of power is power. Now do you begin to understand me" (217)?

Slightly overdone. This part is where something like Animal Farm, in its simplicity, may do more effective work than 1984. The story feels so lengthy and filled with excerpts from journals and literature of different political facets. It becomes cumbersome and repetitive, dragging the story down until the actual narrative elements begin to feel like remote accoutrements of the greater novel.

The emotions are also overwrought in many places, seeming stronger and more dramatic than makes logical sense. Actions and motivations don't always seem to match up. Despite my earlier praise of Orwell's manipulation of reader expectation, the plot is really rather disappointing, by all accounts. There is not much of substance to it beyond the daily work of Winston and his forbidden rendezvous with Julia. As a novel, stripped of its dystopian aspects, it doesn't amount to much.

4. "He hardly thought of Julia. He could not fix his mind on her. He loved her and would not betray her; but that was only a fact" (189).

Slightly under-done. Whereas the many practical elements of the text can appear overblown, the relationships between the characters are somewhat lacking in realism. Winston and Julia betray one another in the end, which doesn't come as too much of a shock to those who see the selfishness inherent in their romance, but certainly seems to astound the both of them.

Unfortunately, because their partnership is so under-developed, I didn't have a strong emotional reaction to their breakup. People are disappearing, being tortured, and dying throughout the novel, and there is a sense that those who are taken don't ever reappear (case in point, the disappearance of Winston's own parents, a huge source of trauma for him). However, both Winston and Julia descend into Big Brother's maw and return to their regular lives sometime later, completely unscathed.

The story that was set up, one of quiet, daily rebellion under threat of death, was not delivered. Not that I am one to complain when main characters live to the end of their novels, but I think that if a book sets up the expectation of immense personal sacrifice, then that should be a more meaningful part of its conclusion.

1984 is an important text that I believe is here to stay, until we don't need it anymore; as long as there are those who exploit others for power and wealth, that day will never come. Animal Farm is perhaps the better twin. However, all literature that provokes critical thinking is necessary and should continue to be read.

The Catcher in the Rye

 

"That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be" (225).

American classics are not my strong suit. For one, I spent a lot of my time in college reading British literature, and when you settle into a certain region, it is difficult to breach new horizons. A second reason is that I tend to find the themes of American literature, on the whole, generally narrow and somewhat depressing.

There is a saying that Americans believe a hundred years to be a long time, and Europeans view a hundred miles as a long distance. In literature, I think that this maxim also applies. European literature tends to span the length of time, both literally and metaphorically. There is a sense of the self within a tapestry of ancestry and a multi-national awareness.

The characters seem to ask, "How do I find my way as a part of the broader world, both within and above my need to find a personal identity?" Les Mis, 1984, Rebecca, The Time of the Doves, Anna Karenina...all stories from different countries and about people as individuals, but ultimately embracing one or more themes of ancient tradition, national or international awareness, and a cyclical timeline of interconnected events.

American literature, on the other hand, has largely been a pursuit of both national and personal identification. "Who are we as a nation, and how can we each establish a distinct voice?" The Scarlet Letter, Huck Finn, To Kill a Mockingbird, Death of a Salesman...yes, there are universal themes, but they center around the individual rather than the other way around. America's relative youthfulness, isolation, size, and individualistic spirit certainly all play a role in this phenomenon that I am not prepared to fully analyze in a simple blog post.

While there is nothing wrong with these themes, I tend to find them (as young Holden might say) rather boorish in literature. The Catcher in the Rye is, unfortunately, representative of everything that I dislike about American literature. Here is why.

1. "Guys that are boring--But I have to be careful about that. I mean about calling certain guys bores. I don't understand boring guys" (160).

An unflinching look at the mentality of a teenager. As an author, JD Salinger is giving "rats in a trenchcoat," except that his version of this phenomenon is best described as the mind of a teenager disguised within the body of an adult. He portrays the selfish, simultaneously insecurity and over-confident, lacking in self-awareness, judgmental, anti-authoritarian short-sightedness of the middle-class American teenager suspiciously well.

I know that this is the case because I was incredibly annoyed throughout my reading of The Catcher, and consistently felt the need to call Holden's mother and send him to his room. Or a work camp. Whichever was closer.

In all seriousness, there is something very important about preserving our remembrance of what it was like to be a young person with an under-developed brain and over-developed sense of our own importance. Some of us never grow out of this stage. It is incredibly difficult to organize a measured response to life when everything is completely out of proportion--small occurrences feel so traumatic, and big ones seem to have little to no effect.

Would any of us go back in time and re-live the years between 13 and 19? I, for one, absolutely would not. It renews my empathy for those coming into their adulthood, because I can recall being desperate to find my place, but also feeling as though the world couldn't care less about my efforts. For realism, Salinger receives full points. 

2. "Besides, he was such a touchy guy, it wasn't any pleasure discussing anything with him" (108).

Completely unlikeable characters. My first criticism is that Holden, as a narrator, is mostly an absolute terror. Every once in a while, there will be a moment wherein he shows empathy for another human being or speaks with candor about his grief surrounding the loss of his brother. Those moments, however poignant, are few and far between.

Holden is unreliable. But not in a fun way. We see all of the other characters through his lens, and in true teenage fashion, he doesn't like most of them. Adults are annoying and out of touch, other boys are boring, and the girls are essentially objects for him to consume for his own pleasure. The result of this portrayal is that none of the people who populate this book (other than perhaps 1 or 2 exceptions) would I want to spend more than 5 minutes around.

I understand the concept of creating realistic and morally gray characters, but there must be some creation of empathy towards them, or else the reader does not and cannot care about what happens to them. I think Holden needs to go to military school and have some sense knocked into him, because he acts like a spoiled brat for about 200 pages. I was frankly sickened by most of his choices and his internal commentary, and the attempts to build empathy for him fell flat because of these aspects that could not be overlooked.

3. "I was only thirteen, and they were going to have me psychoanalyzed and all, because I broke all the windows in the garage" (50).

Little to no plot. The book takes place over the course of a few days, as Holden escapes from his school dorm after being expelled from yet another high school, and goes to New York to fritter away his time before his parents will be expecting him home. All he does is drink, attempt to hire a prostitute, walk around in the dark, call friends and try to hook up with them, and essentially kidnap his little sister from her room.

I was continually waiting for something to happen--for him to face the consequences of his actions or encounter a problem that would force him to realize the ridiculousness of his actions. Maybe for his parents to make an appearance. But no, he spends all of the money in his wallet and runs amok with essentially no accountability, and then he has some sort of revelation at a merry-go-round that life is worth living. Or something like that.

It is hard to believe in a positive character arc when every time Holden shows some glimmer of maturity, he immediately descends back into his philosophy that fate owes him the desires of his heart and that he is the main character of everyone's story. 

4. "I was crazy about The Great Gatsby. Old Gatsby. Old sport. that killed me...If there's ever another war, I'm going to sit right the hell on top of it. I'll volunteer for it, I swear to God I will" (183).

No real consequences. Finally, as previously mentioned, he does not face any repercussions for the choices that he makes. Underage drinking and hiring of prostitutes aside, Holden is a pretty dumb smart kid. He is clearly the embodiment of "intelligent but doesn't apply himself," given every resource to succeed but choosing instead to metaphorically show the middle finger to anyone who tries to help him.

I don't like the precedent that this storyline sets, making it seem as though teenagers are just rebels at heart and need to be given room to grow at their own pace, even if that includes breaking the law and generally treating every other person with disdain. Grief can chart a course in our lives that is completely unexpected and impossible to define, but I didn't feel that the loss of his brother was enough to give Holden a reason for going off the rails the way that he does.

Overall, this novel is definitely a pass for me. I wouldn't recommend it, I would never assign it, and it can be tossed on the pile of, "I don't understand how this became a classic."