50bookchallenge #26/50 A Collection of Essays, George Orwell

When­ev­er I read Orwell, I have hope. For this rea­son I con­sid­er him to be, if there can be any such thing, the best Eng­lish writer to ever have published.

In these essays, he nev­er lets me for­get. Where is his clar­i­ty – both styl­is­tic and moral – in today’s world? I real­ly mean this. Today’s George Orwell is … who? Michael Moore? Come on now. Moore has made him­self so ridicu­lous as to lead me to won­der if he were not a whole con­struc­tion of the Bush admin­is­tra­tion exist­ing only to dis­cred­it lib­er­als. I’d pro­pose that the­sis with­out tongue in cheek if every oth­er mod­ern lib­er­al did not share his casu­al dis­re­gard for moral and intel­lec­tu­al clar­i­ty. I seri­ous­ly ques­tion whether I can be cor­rect in my polit­i­cal views when every­one writ­ing in sup­port of me comes off as a halfwit sophist. And I don’t mean that in a nice way.

Going back to Orwell even just for a few pages is to me like read­ing the Bible is for some. I am remind­ed that I need not apol­o­gize for know­ing right from wrong.

By the way, to those who a year ago were say­ing that you don’t change hors­es mid­stream and that one should not change Pres­i­dents dur­ing wartime, I have one word, although a year late: Chamberlain.

On a more per­son­al note, the first para­graph of the essay Why I Write hit me par­tic­u­lar­ly hard:

“From a very ear­ly age, per­haps the age of five or six, I knew that when I grew up I should be a writer. Between the ages of about sev­en­teen and twen­ty-four I tried to aban­don this idea, but I did so with the con­scious­ness that I was out­rag­ing my true nat­ue and that soon­er or lat­er I should have to set­tle down and write books.”

Were you to replace “write” and “writer” with “draw” and “illus­tra­tor” and sub­sti­tute the num­bers “twen­ty-three” and “thir­ty-six” (am I opti­mistic?) for sev­en­teen and twen­ty-four in the above para­graph, it could describe me quite aptly.

I read this piece­meal and should like to reread sev­er­al of these essays in the not-too-dis­tant future. Pol­i­tics and the Eng­lish Lan­guage remains one of the must-read essays for any writer of Eng­lish. Eng­land Your Eng­land stirred my patri­o­tism despite my coun­try being the Unit­ed States – much of Orwell’s view of Eng­land in the nine­teen-thir­ties applies (although of course much does not). Inside the Whale made me want to read Hen­ry Miller, some­thing count­less acquain­tances have failed to do.

3 Replies to “50bookchallenge #26/50 A Collection of Essays, George Orwell”

  1. “Michael Moore … has made
    “Michael Moore … has made him­self so ridicu­lous as to lead me to won­der if he were not a whole con­struc­tion of the Bush admin­is­tra­tion exist­ing only to dis­cred­it lib­er­als. I’d pro­pose that the­sis with­out tongue in cheek if every oth­er mod­ern lib­er­al did not share his casu­al dis­re­gard for moral and intel­lec­tu­al clarity.”

    Sad­ly, the lib­er­als all LOVE Michael Moore. As for the last sen­tence, sub­sti­tute “politi­cian” for “lib­er­al.” Your side has no monop­oly on that.

    Dad, Con­ser­v­a­tive and disappointed.

  2. I think I meant to write
    I think I meant to write “mod­ern lib­er­al writer.” There are plen­ty of indi­vid­u­als whose opin­ions I respect, but it seems that most of what gets pub­lished is noth­ing more than a set of talk­ing points to help us remem­ber what we believe rather than argu­ments to explore or illu­mi­nate or even inform a sub­ject. One hopes for more depth in a book than in a “debate” between TV pun­dits, but nowa­days even books are all about the soundbite.

  3. Orwell is sad­ly under­taught
    Orwell is sad­ly under­taught these days, to the nation’s dis­cred­it. The US could use a good dose of “Pol­i­tics and the Eng­lish Lan­guage” (and per­haps “A Hanging”).

    Eight or nine years ago (before ‘real­i­ty’ TV), I was in a Hot Top­ic down on the penin­su­la (don’t ask) and said “Oh, cool” out loud as I pulled out a “Big Broth­er Is Watch­ing You” post­card. I swear, 4 kinder­goths all asked “Who’s Big Broth­er?” Not one had read 1984 or had any idea what I was on about. It was very sad.

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