George Orwell- Homage to Catalonia

Homage to Catalonia

Penguin Classics

George Orwell

1936

Other Orwell Reviews- Burmese Days - A Clergyman's Daughter - Homage to Catalonia - Shooting an Elephant and Other Essays

“When I see an actual flesh-and-blood worker in conflict with his natural enemy, the policeman, I do not have to ask myself which side I am on.” 

The first time I read Homage to Catalonia, a borrowed copy about six years ago, I didn't really like it. This left me with the nagging sensation that this was unacceptable; a feeling that grew with each subsequent novel by George Orwell that I read. I habitually drew out the process of reading through bibliographies of my favourite authors, and when I finally finished off the set with Burmese Days I still couldn't get over it, so a re-read was absolutely necessary. I fear that when I first read it I rushed it and was far too distracted, but I found it to be not what I was expecting. My love of Orwell was, at the time, completely entwined with my love of Nineteen-Eighty Four and its subversiveness, and I felt a lack of similar traits made it seem, well, just not cool enough to care about.

Upon re-examining the book, the things I found most immediately curious about Homage to Catalonia were firstly the sheer nerve of the whole thing, and secondly the more passive, observational tone of the prose. Orwell barely touches on his arrival in Spain in the midst of civil war nor his reasons for doing so (most of these details are saved for the two appendices- more on those later), with his need to join the fight against the progression of fascism in Europe really needing no justification. The relative lack of political commentary, usually so prevalent in Orwell's books, is very noticeable, and is almost certainly what upset me about it upon first read. Bearing that in mind as I started again gave it a better chance for its particular style to sink in, but in hindsight the genuine lack of that cutting, insightful analysis Orwell is so revered for does leave Catalonia a step behind his best work.

What Orwell does instead is write a very descriptive and well-constructed account of his time trudging across Spain with a misfit militia, occasionally encountering great danger, constantly enduring great discomfort, and eventually becoming an enemy of the police state. It has all the ingredients of an enthralling narrative, and Orwell's typically dry prose becomes much more observational than usual (except for perhaps Down and Out in Paris and London). As an Englishman myself I tend to read Orwell's work in one hundred percent relation to British society and sensibilities, and so the humid Spanish atmosphere comes across as positively alienesque, reflected through Orwell's disposition and occasional struggle to communicate away from home. The heavily observational style hugely benefits in this regards, capturing this period in time superbly and leaving me enthralled at times- but I have to reiterate that the lack of a more powerful, decisive analysis of the events as a whole leave this trailing Orwell's best.

The narrative is engaging to the end, where it the book is concluded by two additional appendices in which Orwell attempts to untangle the various political parties and figures that clashes to create the whole mess in the first place. When I first read the book I was excited to reach this, hoping for the real facts of the matter to come to life for Orwell to viciously tear apart. Instead, Orwell actually warns the reader that these segments will be boring for those not interested in party politics, and that the reader should skip these if this doesn't interest them. The first time I tried they bored me to tears, so this time I skipped them. It's a really disappointing ending to the book to be honest, since it really did need a more reader-friendly conclusion to put things more in context.

It's undeniable that Homage to Catalonia is another massively important step on the road to Nineteen Eighty-Four, especially in giving the author a personal view of the advancing effects of facism, but for me my enjoyment came from the differences in Orwell's style here as a first-person non-fiction narrator, creating a more adventurous, thrilling tone in a strange (well, to me anyway) environment. I enjoyed this much more than the first time I read it, though it does suffer in comparison to some of Orwell's bibliography. To me it's more of an intriguing curio that I can't really see myself returning to for a long time, if ever, but it shouldn't disappoint any prospective Orwell completists too much.

L-Space- Confessions of an English Literature Reviewer

I have the day off work, so a lazy morning of watching awful morning television shows while lounging about on the sofa eventually turned into a short trawl through Wikipedia links. Wikipedia is my go-to place in times of boredom, and I've set the random article function as my homepage (which more often than not results in a short article about a village in Eastern Europe for some reason). Through reading an article on litotes (and trying to work out how to pronounce it) I was quickly led to an article about George Orwell's Politics and the English Language (1946) (here, originally published in Horizon magazine), an essay I'd never read before. I found the full essay (here, possibly even legally) and it's fairly short and succinct; a well-written rant against the way that a few factors had been leading to the decline of the English Language.

Orwell's main cause of discontent was the manipulation of the language's various faculties in political writings in order to disguise the nature and/or hypocrisy of its actual meaning, and of the writer or political party behind it. As a natural-born cynic regarding the topic I can't really say much about the political aspect, only that almost seventy years later such techniques are undoubtedly ubiquitous in particular segments of modern society, the most obvious of which is advertising (and we all know advertising rules the world). Orwell wrote the comedy novel Keep the Aspidistra Flying on the subject of advertising, which one day might get re-read and reviewed here.

 

My most necessary rule.

Orwell goes further in his essay by addressing the application of political dialogue in literary criticism, which is, to be honest, what made me thoughtful enough to write this short post. His point is that a lot of literary criticism relies upon the reviewer creating a kind of false sense of immaculate articulation through tossing in to their reviews as many longer words as possible, regardless of their actual effect or even meaning. It's not difficult to recognise Orwell's point (and some of the examples quoted in the essay are ridiculous), and now I'm constantly set to worry that I regularly do the same thing in my reviews; sacrificing accurate reviewing for the sake of flowery prose, thus making the whole exercise a waste of time. Muddying the waters, so to speak.

I think everyone who's ever written a few articles on absolutely anything must be guilty of this to a small extent at least, and it's not something that a writer should overly worry about if it doesn't occur to them that it's something that they're prominently doing already. Personally I am worried, so this short post is an attempt to follow Orwell's rules while talking about them (very meta, I think). I started this blog to hone my non-fiction writing skills precisely thanks to the quality of prose displayed by my favourite authors like Orwell, and almost two years on I think the project is progressing decently, but not perfectly. Ah well, onwards and upwards and all that. At present I'm currently reading Truman Capote's In Cold Blood (albeit slowly) so that will be on the review schedule, as will the next Discworld book and possibly, possibly the continuation of the Comics Snobbery series. But maybe not.

L-Space- The Darkened Wardrobe

L-Space- The Darkened Wardrobe

Way back in March of this year I created a post entitled The Glass Cabinet, which listed each book on my unread pile. I find it hard not to buy books, especially because I very much enjoy going in to certain charity bookshops and looking for interesting, cheap stuff. My favourite being the many Oxfam Bookshops you get across Britain (and possibly further, I don't know), since they always have the widest selection and have greater standards for second hand books than most. They cost a little more than other shops, but it's worth it, especially for the constant stream of well-kept classics and modern classics that I can't resist buying.

Anyway, the last time I did this it was called The Glass Cabinet because I kept my unread pile in a nice glass cabinet which lit up and had lots of classy glass shelves. Since then I moved house, and sadly don't have said cabinet anymore. Instead, I have the less fancy, but much moodier and mysterious darkened wardrobe, so that's what it's called. Also, I'm probably moving house again in about a week, so six months down the line I'll do this with a different name. Finally, a fair few of these books were on the last list, but some of the books on the last one got dumped because I changed my mind about reading them, or started and quickly gave up in disgust. Cormac McCarthy fans, you may fall out with me when you hear that I dumped the entire Border Trilogy, because I am not a fan. And now, we shall begin;

Terry Pratchett- Dodger, Discworld- Raising Steam & The Long Earth (with Stephen Baxter)

Dodger was on the last list, I'll get around to that at some point, but I wasn't a fan of Pratchett's last non-Discworld novel, Nation, so I'm not excited. Raising Steam, meanwhile, as the latest Discworld book, is something I'm very much looking forward to. The Long Earth is a curious one, as it was written in conjunction with science fiction author Stephen Baxter as the start of a long series, and is based on a short story included in Pratchett's collection of fiction miscellany in A Blink of the Screen.

Haruki Murakami- Dance, Dance, Dance

Aside from Hear the Wind Sing and Pinball, 1973, which are Murakami's first two novels and have yet to be reprinted in English (meaning the few older copies available on ebay and the like are extortionately priced, so I'm patiently hoping for a reprint)  Dance, Dance, Dance is the final Murakami book available to me. I'm putting it off like Desmond Hulme did with A Tale of Two Cities in Lost. Thankfully though, Murakami's latest book should be translated into English next year.

Jay Rubin- Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words

Longtime Haruki Murakami translator Jay Rubin writes a book of literary analysis on the work of the Japanese author. There's almost no way I'm not going to enjoy this.

Anthony Storr- The Dynamics of Creation
J.A.C. Brown- Techniques of Persuasion

Both are Pelican non fiction paperbacks that were in the cabinet, and both are essentially about writing techniques, literary theory, that sort of thing. I'm hoping they're good, but both could easily be dumped after a few unsatisfying pages.

W. Somerset Maugham- Cake and Ale & The Magician

Another two books that've been on the pile for six months, but I've just started reading The Magician and I'm very excited about it, having learned more about the character of Oliver Haddo and the real life acquaintanceship of W. Somerset Maugham and Alistair Crowley.

Sam Kean- The Disappearing SpoonAlex Boese- Elephants on Acid and other Bizarre Experiments 

John D. Barrow- The Book of Universes

My interest in casual science books shows no sign of waning, with The Book of Universes added to this list of stuff that will hopefully make me feel like I've learned something, even if I can't exactly tell you what. Also in this vein...

Richard Dawkins- The Ancestor's Tale: A Pilgrimage to the Dawn of Life

Steven Pinker- How the Mind Works

... two books by two masters of the pop. science genre. The Ancestor's Tale is, as is obvious with Dawkins, about evolution and is worryingly long. Pinker, meanwhile, wrote The Language Instinct, and How the Mind Works looks like an equally interesting look at the human psyche.

Russel Hoban- Amaryllis Night and Day

As I wrote last time, I have no memory of buying this book, nor can I quite figure out why I did. It is very short though, so maybe I'll pick it up soon just to figure out what the hell is going on.

George R. R. Martin- A Dance with Dragons- Book 2- After the Feast

I will definitely read this at some point, but I've also been considering donating my Song of Ice and Fire books to someone else before I move house. It's not that I totally hate them, it's just that I don't like them enough to justify them visually dominating my book collection with their flashy thick spines. Unfortunately the only person I've found who wants them is my fiance, who I'm moving in with, so that probably doesn't help.

Hunter S. Thompson- Hell's Angels & Generation of Swine: Tales of Shame and Degredation in the 80's

I've wanted to read Hell's Angels for years and years but never got around to it. Generation of Swine is a collection of articles in the same manner as The Great Shark Hunt: Strange Tales from a Strange Time. One day I will have read every Thompson book. Probably in sixty years or so.

Carlos Castaneda- The Eagle's Gift & A Separate Reality

Initially bought on impulse ages ago, further research shows me that I really need to read a copy of The Teachings of Don Juan before I read these later books in the series.

Toby Young- The Sound of No Hands Clapping

The sequel to the moderately entertaining memoirs How to Lose Friends and Alienate People. I don't expect it to blow me away, but it should be fun enough.

 
Euripedes- Madea and Other Plays
 Jean-Dominique Bauby- The Diving-Bell & The Butterfly
R.K. Narayan- The Guide

Gore Vidal- The Messiah

Various random world classics I've picked up here and there, none I'm dying to read right now but nonetheless I should get something positive out of all of them.

Johan Goethe- Faust

Horace Walpole- The Castle of Otranto and The Mysterious Mother

I reread Marlow's Dr. Faustus recently, but I'm leaving a gap before starting Goethe's version of the tale. Sticking with gothic fiction, The Castle of Otranto is something I read at university as an example of the first ever Gothic horror fiction, and it's completely mental. The edition I bought contained the play The Mysterious Mother and I'm hoping that it's just as mad.

Phillip Pullman- Grimm Fairy Tales

Though I didn't enjoy Pullman's retelling of the new testament, this retelling of the brothers' Grimm promises to be much, much better. 

Charles Bukowski- Ham on Rye & Woman

As with Hunter S. Thompson, I want to complete Bukowski's entire bibliography one day, hopefully before Skynet takes over the world.

Michael Bollen- Earth Inc.

Mark Gatiss- The Vesuvius Club/The Devil in Anger

Two fairly random comedy novels by British authors that I picked up because they look like fun. I can't remember the last time I found a satirical British author that I really enjoyed, so hopefully one of these authors will remind of the likes of Terry Pratchett or Douglas Adams, not much to ask there. Gatiss seemingly has the better pedigree, but Bollen's Earth Inc. has a wonderful-looking dystopian advertising future tone going for it.

Jack Kerouac- On the Road

Ken Kessey- One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Truman Capote- In Cold Blood

Edward Abbey- The Monkey Wrench Gang

Jay McInerney- Bright Lights, Big City

I'm really pleased with my line-up of 20th century US classics, a genre that I enjoy ninety nine times out of a hundred. I read On the Road years ago and promptly forgot most of it, while In Cold Blood is my second Capote after the absolutely brilliant Breakfast at Tiffany's. The other three are American classics that I'm very much looking forward to reading. 

Jon Ronson- The Men Who Stare At Goats

Stephen Fry- Moab is My Washpot

Two more bits of non-fiction picked up on reputation. The Men Who Stare At Goats should be quick, amusing reading, while Fry's autobiography is something I've meant to pick up for some time. Supposedly both brilliantly witty and despairingly depressing.

George Orwell- Homage to Catalonia

Oscar Wilde- Complete Shorter Fiction

Having completed Orwell's novel bibliography (does that phrase make sense? Ah well...) with Burmese Days, I still want to reread Homage to Catalonia because I feel I didn't give it a fair chance the first time around; reading it too quickly with not enough attention paid. Oscar Wilde, meanwhile, I actually find hit or miss, but I'm a literary snob and he's probably the king of the literary snob's bookshelf fillers.

Jose Luis Borges- Doctor Brodie's Report

Ryu Murakami- Piercing

Mikhail Bulgakov- The Master and Margarita

Some wordwide literature here. Borges is someone I want to explore further, Ryu Murakami is a guy who I read one good book by five years ago and forgot about for some reason, and Bulgakov is my latest attempt to get into Russian literature, having failed to enjoy Dostoyevsky on first try.
 

Paul Auster- Moon Palace & The Book of Illusions

My second favourite contemporary author behind Haruki Murakami, I've been saving the work of Paul Auster over the years but I'm getting closer and closer to the end of his bibliography. 

Neil Gaiman- The Absolute Sandman Vol. 4 & Signal To Noise

Last but not least, my unread comics. 

Oh my god, this list is ridiculously long. I really need to get a move on reading this crap, and not adding to it. In the meantime, I really should write the next Discworld review after this, and I've got about three or four more Comics Snobbery columns to write. Also I want to do an L-Space column on the three or four books I read over the past year and didn't write full reviews for. Anyway, to the publish button!

George Orwell- Burmese Days

Burmese Days

Penguin Modern Classics

 George Orwell

1934

Other Orwell Reviews- Burmese Days - A Clergyman's Daughter - Homage to Catalonia - Shooting an Elephant and Other Essays

“It is one of the tragedies of the half-educated that they develop late, when they are already committed to some wrong way of life.”

Having spent far too much time reading other people's blogs recently has guilt-tripped me in to writing something for mine; which should never be that difficult since I basically set the premise of this blog to ensure I couldn't fail. Still, I have at least got some pretty darn good reading done recently, with books by George R.R. Martin (I wonder which), Jose-Luis Borges, and Pierre Boulle's excellent, excellent high-concept sci-fi novel a Planète des singes, as the French call it, otherwise known as that cheesy Hollywood film with Charlton Heston and a bunch of monkeys. But before all that came a kind of personal reading landmark, in the form of the last novel left to read by a certain Mr. George Orwell.

I'm not sure which of Orwell's books I read first, but it was either Animal Farm or Nineteen Eighty-Four, and I'm not entirely sure when it was either, but I do know that both were polished off in quick succession. That must have been ten years ago now, and since then my typical scatter-shot reading habits ensured that, rather than attacking Orwell's bibliography quickly, it's taken me this long to get to the end- well, if you don't count the volumes of letters, diaries and further essays all out there in some form that I eventually hope to get to. I'm a growing fan of author miscellanea.

One of the true joys of Orwell is that he's very, very easy to analyse and follow through his path towards 1984. I like Animal Farm, but 1984 is a far better read, and it's been a lot of fun to look at every single one of his earlier books so far and see the concepts in a rougher developmental stage. Crucially, I've also enjoyed each one of those books on their own merits to varying extents, from the twisted Dickensian stye of A Clergyman's Daughter to the rather more dry and satirical musings of Keep the Aspidistra Flying (a dumb name for a very intelligent novel). Burmese Days (oh god, three paragraphs in and I've just reached the title), the last of mine to read, was also Orwell's first novel-length fiction, and is the first that I haven't really enjoyed on its own merits.

I'll attempt to refrain from diving into the plot much, because it's not a very interesting plot, telling the leisurely story of local political corruption in the imperial setting of Burma, where lead character privileged important white man John Florry is thrust in the middle of a dispute between Indian associate Dr, Veriswami and the villain, corrupt magistrate U Po Kyin, while meanwhile awkwardly courting an equally privileged, important and white woman, albeit one younger than he. In essence, the combined events left me the impression of two main themes, both quintessentially Orwellian (that phrase has to be annoying for some people) in nature but entwined in an uncomfortable way that prevents the narrative from reaching a satisfying conclusion. The look at imperial Burma, directly portrayed from Orwell's five year tenure in Burma as a an imperial policeman, is the most interesting side of the book since Orwell knew Burma as a real-life Eurasia. Unfortunately his portrayal of the fascist state is narrow, unexplored with any vigor or much analysis; at least to the standard and effect of Orwell's later works. 

What's left, then, is the second focus; Florry as an example of an ineffectual, confident English fop. When he inevitably falls for the young, pretty, unattached Elizabeth, his previous confidence and self-image falls to pieces in the face of real emotion, as though he, representative of English males like him, should never really have left his mother's side. In essence it's a type of characterisation that exists strongly today (or at least in the 90's), through the presence of the entire career of Hugh Grant. Only, Orwell threw me slightly off balance at the end, with my typical expectations of a somewhat wholesome resolution dashed against the wall like the brains of a rabid cat. I'm not exaggerating there either, Burmese Days ends on a far heavier note than seemed necessary.

I should probably try and put a lid on these ramblings before they get totally out of control and incoherent, and try to figure out what I've learned. On the one hand, I'm disappointed that my last foray into Orwell's fiction wasn't great fun, but I'm not particularly surprised since, after all this was his first novel. Historically it is absolutely an essential building block on the road to 1984 and the best novel ever written, but it's only fractionally as interesting. It suffers from dallying on characterisations that aren't entirely comfortable yet, though will eventually morph into the cultivated figure of Winston Smith, and so there's plenty of intrigue to be found from an Orwell fanatic. For everyone else, there's not really much point in recommending this book to you, because if you haven't read 1984 or Animal Farm then you probably shouldn't be wasting your time reading this stupid blog anyway, alright?

George Owell- Shooting an Elephant and Other Essays

Shooting an Elephant and Other Essays

Penguin

George Orwell

1950 (Collected)

Other Orwell Reviews- Burmese Days - A Clergyman's Daughter - Homage to Catalonia - Shooting an Elephant and Other Essays

 "The enemies of intellectual liberty always try to present their case as a plea for discipline versus individualism. The issue truth-versus-untruth is as far as possible kept in the background. Although the point of emphasis may vary, the writer who refuses to sell his opinions is always branded as a mere egoist. He is accused, that is, either of wanting to shut himself up in an ivory tower, or of making an exhibitionist display of his own personality, or of resisting the inevitable current of history in an attempt to cling to unjustified privileges."
- The Prevention of Literature (1946)

With my perusal of George Orwell's bibliography of fiction almost finished (well, aside from Burmese Days which I have sitting on the pile), I was really excited to visit my first collection with essays. Orwell is obviously a very well known and appreciated essayist, and besides that much of his appeal to me within his fictions (I'm specifically thinking of A Clergyman's Daughter and Keep the Aspidistra Flying as well as 1984) is his ability to convert the most salient, entertaining and insightful points of a quality, passionate essay into his fiction without too much trouble, seemingly effortlessly both enriching the story and further establishing his sociopolitical viewpoints.

Shooting an Elephant and Other Essays is a very popular compendium of around twenty Orwell essays of differing length and subject. As an aside, it slightly irritates me that I didn't get a hold of a more complete, chronologically accurate collection of the complete Orwell, but I suppose that gives me something to do in the future. Now, to state the absolutely obvious, the variety of subjects, subject length, in-depth analysis and whimsy (or lack of) is sure to effect the reader's enjoyment of each individual essay. Personally, while I'm very glad I read each essay and certainly learned a lot, it was the extended length (and, to a certain extent) subjects of two essays in this collection which left me feeling a little bored and disinterested temporarily, while most of the shorter pieces were utterly fantastic.

Black + White= Cooler

To get the less-interesting (to me) out of the way first, I wasn't particularly interested in the 60-page plus critical analysis of Charles Dickens, entitled simply Dickens. Without meaning to go on a distracting diatribe, I did go on a bit of a Dickens binge in my late teens, but gave up after eight or so books due to the increasing feeling of boredom I felt with each new book. In fairness, Orwell's essay is certainly no fawning fan worship or anything like that, instead seriously studying the social reflections and interpretations of the then one hundred year novels with insight and care. I just didn't find it that interesting, and its length distorted the collection somewhat. The other essay I found uninteresting was Politics vs. Literature- An Examination of Gulliver's Travels, which is probably because I've never read Gulliver's Travels, and can't really be bothered to.

Now, the good stuff; pretty much everything else. The title essay, Shooting an Elephant is an autobiographical snippet about Orwell in Burma working as a policeman, on a day where an elephant went rogue and Orwell had to shoot it. Mostly lacking in political analysis and doom and gloom, it's an enthralling and dramatic piece that's interesting and emotional, and gives a great insight into the mind and ethics of the author. The Decline of the English Murder is another extremely famous essay, which satirises in a very black way the representation of real life crime stories in the English press of the time. How the Poor Die is an extremely bleak autobiographical look at a Parisian hospital Orwell visited in the 20's, and provides another fascinating insight into the mind of Orwell.

I very much enjoyed the numerous essays on literature aside from Dickens and Swift; Bookshop Memories might be my favourite of everything collected here, and is accompanied by Boys Weeklies and Good Bad Books as charming, thoughtful and joyously written essays on popular literature and personal experiences on it. One of the things I love about reading Orwell is that he leaves his heart on each page; you can trace through his bibliography and get a full impression of his personal development and thoughts throughout the years, leading eventually to the epic 1984. Each snippet collected in Shooting an Elephant adds towards that, giving a fuller and fuller picture of one of the most important authors of all time. I would heartily recommend this collection because it offers a variety of moods and themes, but consists of great, great writing from a unique and talented mind.

George Orwell- A Clergyman's Daughter

I've been away from book blogging, instead lying in a hospital bed bored out of my mind. But enough of that, here's a new look at an old book;

A Clergyman's Daughter

Penguin Modern Classics

George Orwell

1935

Other Orwell Reviews- Burmese Days - A Clergyman's Daughter - Shooting an Elephant and Other Essays

"But after all there must be SOME meaning, SOME purpose in it all! The world cannot be an accident. Everything that happens must have a cause--ultimately, therefore, a purpose. Since you exist, God must have created you, and since He created you a conscious being, He must be conscious. The greater doesn't come out of the less. He created you, and He will kill you, for His own purpose. But that purpose is inscrutable. It is in the nature of things that you can never discover it, and perhaps even if you did discover it you would be averse to it. Your life and death, it may be, are a single note in the eternal orchestra that plays for His diversion. And suppose you don't like the tune?"

Like most fans of Orwell, I began my exploration of his work about five or six years ago with his two most famous pieces, and two of the most important and influential novels to ever have been written, in Animal Farm and Nineteen Eighty-Four. I was immediately blown away with how much mesmerizing enjoyment I got from reading them, and through the realization of just how much those books had effected so many other things I'd both read and seen in popular culture and its analysis. Regardless of what you might think of theories of Big Brother and our future, Orwell infiltrated how people look at modern day society. Hungry for more of his work I read through most of his earlier work, and it became clear that these books were leading up to his future legacy, talking about similar topics of society in similar ways, crafting and presenting his ideas through personal experience, carefully written non-fictional essays like Down and Out in Paris and London, and through the almost black-humoured attack on society of Keep the Aspidistra Flying. It took me a while to find a copy of A Clergyman's Daughter, only his second work of fiction (after Burmese Days, which I still haven't read), and I wasn't sure what to expect from this novel that Orwell himself had later disowned as something he wasn't at all happy with.

Orwell, looking homeless.

A Clergyman's Daughter, despite having a title that makes it sound like a bottom-rate slice of romantic fiction written for frustrated forty-year-old housewives, fits into the developing pantheon of Orwellian fiction with the same style and prominence of every other entrant in his bibliography. Although it's all fiction, Orwell uses his personal experience to address around three particular social topics that together combine into the same sort of overall (mostly damning) study of 1940's English society as do his other earlier, more realistically set novels. The story revolves around the adventures and misfortunes of Dorothy Hare, daughter of a Parish rector in a small countryside town, following a brief period of turbulence in her life in a manner reminiscent to me of an abridged Dickens book. The opening (and closing) chapters bring into focus one of Orwell's key themes; the helpless plight of women like Dorothy who have no real freedom or power of their own and seem destined to live a hard, uninteresting life stripped of potential for the sake of a form of personal sacrifice bordering on slavery. Dorothy's life changes quickly when a quick series of events leave her stranded and homeless on the streets of London, temporarily stripped of her memory.

This address of the issue of poverty and homelessness isn't without some power, and the reader is definitely made to feel for Dorothy, but it's just not as interesting as the non-fiction of Down and Out in Paris and London, and for me was the weakest segment of the book. Things become far more interesting when Orwell has his lead catch a break, getting a job as a teacher in a small private school, which exists as an opportunity for Orwell to direct a tirade of stinging criticism at the school system, ripping it apart with his trademark direct arguing and very personal narration. For me this was the most interesting portion of the book. I don't wish to spoil much more of the plot (because this book is so new and all), but things eventually come full circle and we're given an ambiguous ending.

This book isn't one of Orwell's best by any means, instead languishing in the lower reaches of the quality of his bibliography. But then this is George Orwell, and his worst literature is still going to be far more interesting and thought-provoking than 99% of anything else anybody writes, so that's not really a criticism per se. As a result, I wouldn't recommend this to anyone looking for their first taste of Orwell because clearly Nineteen Eighty-Four is essential, but this is certainly going to appeal to anyone who's enjoyed some of his other works.