Some Heavy Stuff: Orwell, Literature, and technophobia

Up until this very evening, I had never before read George Orwell's 1984. Blasphemy, I know. I'm not entirely sure how I've gone 19 years of my life, maybe 6 or 7 years of my proper literature reading life, and not EVER read a book that seems, in hindsight, like it was written just for me. I think my reasoning in having never read it was simply because I felt like I already knew what happens. 1984 has had such a massive impact on not only popular culture (Big Brother, Room 101, etc.) but also on the way we think about society itself; everytime we describe a new law as Orwellian or bring up the ingenious concept of doublethink, we are referencing 1984.

So, I felt like I knew it all. Worse, I felt like I could pretend that I had read the bloody book. People would bring it up in conversation and I would, like a tool, go "Oh yeah, great book, great book, one of my faves", and then go home and cry into my copy of Dune (my favourite book, which I have read and re-read too many times.) for being such a literary liar.

But that's all in the past now. I have, in a single blogpost, both come out of the I-have-never-read-1984 closet and dived straight into the I-have-only-read-1984-once chest of drawers (a tighter and more uncomfortable squeeze, I have to say).

Oh, by the way, I bloody loved it.

When I got to the end, I thought not about the issues and themes that it raised, which were many and brilliant, but instead about why it was important for me to read it, even though I pretty much knew the gist of what happened.

The reason that I should have read 1984 sooner is that literature has an intrinsic value; or, more personally, the reading of literature by me has an intrinsic value to me. Its value isn't in being able to talk about what you just read to your friends, and its value doesn't even lie, as a lot of people think about 1984, in the issues that the book brought to the fore and the ideas it propounded and the effect that it has had. It lies simply in the act of reading. That very personal act where you follow a story from its beginning to its conclusion, experiencing the lives of characters and the narrative that has been carefully shaped by a genius in order create an emotional response (or, in a good book, lots of emotional responses!). By foregoing actually reading 1984 I have realised that I actually missed out not only on the incredible depth and detail of its ideas, which is impressive if often a bit longwinded and repetitive, but I also missed out on what I found to be a very interesting love story. Yeah, that was my favourite part of 1984. And I am a heterosexual male. I'm going against the current, people.

When Julia hands Winston that note bearing the simple phrase "I love you", my heart missed a beat. In this terrifying world where everything was regimented and devoid of emotion and Winston felt like the last human being in Oceania, here was another human being who felt the same way! The idea of two lovers in secret being persecuted by the rest of society is as old as storytelling itself, but it is still able to incite that part of our consciousness that does the imaginary fist pump and shouts "FUCK YEAH!".

Not only that, but I loved how imperfect Julia was. I hate love stories where the man finds some perfect woman who is amazing at everything and completely unrealistic. Julia didn't give a shit about overthrowing the Party; she just wanted to have lots of sex in a very animalistic 'fuck you' to the system. Brilliant.

Above all, 1984 scared the shit out of me. I didn't realise just how far Orwell took it. Well, I actually did, but again, the act of reading it and allowing that atmosphere to wash over me in a way that is impossible in no other medium (except, I would argue, video games, but that's another blog post entirely) was entirely different to simply knowing about it from wikipedia or by cultural osmosis.

I am so scared from reading 1984 that my enthusiasm for my new AmazonKindle (yeah, I caved) has been tempered somewhat by the fact that I have a gnawing fear that it's a telescreen. One day, I'll put it into sleep mode, and instead of the friendly face of Jules Verne (who I find oddly comforting) I shall be faced with Big Brother's giant visage and a terrifying voice will erupt out of those tinny speakers: "Newman 0394! Bend down and touch your toes! Further! FURTHER! That's better!"

See, we have to remember that the underlying key to the society depicted in 1984 is technology. Without the technology that Orwell depicted in his novel-the telescreens, the helicopters, the military technology, the advanced filing and messaging system that allowed the Ministry of Truth to work so effectively and, worst of all, the technology and the understanding of the human mind which allowed the Party to control people so effectively-without all that, Oceania as depicted in 1984 wouldn't work. It's a horrible thought, but as technology advances, so too does the likelihood of 1984 becoming real.

And, I suppose, to come sort of full circle in a roundabout way, that is why it is important for me to have read 1984. Not only to try and prevent 1984 from becoming a reality, but because literature has an intrinsic value that, in the world of 1984, no longer exists. If we let our appreciation of literature and the arts and other pursuits which seem, from a purely utilitarian view, to be 'pointless', then we may as well put those telescreens up ourselves. And in a very, very roundabout way, that is why I like my new Kindle, in spite of my irrational Orwellian nightmares. In theory, it will make me read more. And that can only be a good thing.

(By the time this blogpost is up, it will have been a year between this one and my last post. I'm fairly sure that won't happen again. But no guarantees. Also, apologies for the all-over-the-placeness of this...whatever it is, but it's an excellent way of procrastinating :) )