"¿Lo que parece estar diciendo es que 1984 no es más que una transcripción cómica del Londres de fin de la segunda guerra mundial? Bueno, sí." (Anthony Burgess, 1985)

Este es un libro extraño, a mitad de camino entre el ensayo, la novela distópica (o cacotópica, como la llama Burgess, aunque en realidad no es otra cosa que una sátira política conservadora) y la futurología.
Como ensayo, la lectura que hace Burgess del clásico de Orwell es muy interesante y provocadora, además de bien documentada. Ayuda a entender las contradicciones de ese escritor políticamente comprometido con la izquierda y, sin embargo, famoso por haber escrito las dos caricaturas más conocidas del proyecto marxista más grande llevado a cabo en la historia: la URSS. Como dice Burgess, el socialismo inglés de Orwell tenía más de inglés que de socialista.
Como novela, la obra deja mucho que desear; parece escrita un poco a la rápida y con más ánimos de polemista que de novelista
Finalmente, como futurólogo, Burgess nos entrega predicciones más o menos interesantes para la época en que se escribieron, aunque esto más que demostrar su brillantez nos da cuenta de la estupidez humana dispuesta a darse de bruces una y otra vez con los mismos problemas y las mismas ansiedades. Por de pronto, la visión de Burgess, ya conservadora en su tiempo, es análoga a muchas de las posiciones de la extrema derecha actual, la cual, curiosamente y probablemente sin saberlo, ha adoptado la lectura de 1984 que se hace en 1985.

En fin, recomendable solo como curiosidad.

The work of a pure genius.

Dystopian fiction often tells us as much about the time in which it is written as it does about the possible future that it depicts. 

Just finished reading this amazing work from the author of the dystopian masterpiece A Clockwork Orange. 

Neither a sequel, nor a retelling, 1985 is a series of essays about Orwell and 1984, followed by the complete novella 1985, which paints a future for Britain that never was, but seemed as plausible to Burgess in 1978 as Orwell's was to him in 1948 postwar Britain.

In 1985, Burgess extrapolates the high inflation and increasing role of labour parties in the economy and their influence on politics and policy to envision a syndicalist Britain threatened by general strikes that could bring even the military and the government to a standstill.

Orwell's 1984, on the other hand, is a reflection on the nationalization of industry in Britain after World War II and the post-war rationing that included staples such as bacon and potatoes.

This book is bad, make no mistake. But it is one of the funniest things I have ever read in my life. You have to read this stuff to truly appreciate how absurd a world Burgess has managed to construct. I will tell you the plot of this book as I told it to my good friend, so that you, too, can bask in its ridiculousness.

The first third is comprised of essays about Orwell's "1984". I like them and I consider Burgess's contributions worthy and interesting. He brings up good points about the time and place from which Orwell wrote it, its politics and bungling up of the concept of true love. These are worth your time.

This first third, however, merely serves to make you complacent, and believe that the attached novel that occupies the rest of the pages will be sensible. Oh, no, no, no!

You are hit like a gut punch by the nonsense that is the first chapter. It reads more like an absurdist play! Our protagonist Bev (his name comes from Aneurin Bevan, an important trade unionist; get used to trade unions, as they drown this story) works in a chocolate factory and is coming home to his mentally-retarded daughter, who is about 13 but looks like an adult because of some drug her mother took during childbirth. What?? This makes no sense and only adds to make things awkward in later scenes (and very near the end, so the Universe can kick Bev some more, but we are getting ahead of ourselves). His daughter is watching porn on TV, because it is apparently everywhere. (Didn't happen, Burgess. People are not THAT horny.) The mother is in hospital for something.

Bev is robbed by a "Kumina" gang of teens (yes, Burgess bangs that old chestnut again: juvenile delinquency), who speak Latin because they were thought the classics and different languages by underground professors because their state education is dumbed-down and crap. I appreciate the faith that Burgess puts in the youth of his nation, but this is even sillier. As Bev enters his block, he passes by a man who was beaten and raped by a gang. Bev does this again later, when he leaves, and I like to imagine that man looking increasingly more cross at Bev as he passes by.

As Bev arrives home, he hears that the hospital has caught fire. But that's not all; the firemen are on strike, meaning that they won't lift a single finger to put it out! Workers (people, really) are not such heartless bastards, Burgess. There isn't even any implication that it's the union leaders' fault and they are forcing the firemen to not do anything; it reads like all of them are inhumane or massive idiots. When things like this happened in real life, the strike would cease. This is all very poor, but Bev's wife's still-burning self telling him to get the bastards is honestly amazing.

Bev tries to figure out what to do with his lecherous daughter. (Burgess, stop. We get it.) The next day, he goes to the factory and refuses to take part in a future strike, even appearing on TV. He comments that the blue-overalled icon of the workers from the posters is based on a gay bloke (unnecessary), and gets the best speech in the book from an older man. His description of a general strike is melodramatic, apocalyptic and insane. I absolutely love it, and it alone is worth the price of admission, holy crap.

Bev is kicked out of his trade union and becomes unemployable, because it is impossible to be outside of a trade union and still be employed. He sends his daughter to a girls' school, and joins one of the underground teachers' groups (he used to be a history teacher), and learns to shoplift. The pacing crawls to a halt until an important episode comes up, so I will take a detour to the book's politics.

Burgess disliked 70's Labour (fair enough) and sought to portray a nation (TUCland, a good name) where the trade unions are so powerful, they can call a strike at any moment and force the government to increase salaries, despite rampant inflation, international pariah status, money leaving due to Arab shieks owning all of Scotland's oil reserves (which is a bit too far, even for this book) and other social ills. His criticisms, I feel, are generally correct, but they have a problem:
--The dumbing down of all media does not correlate with increased worker control in the slightest. The childbirth drug is also a cheap way to tug at the reader's heartstrings and make this connection.
--As mentioned above, not all workers are heartless bastards.
--This is not (anarcho-)syndicalism, an ideology that seeks to REPLACE the state with trade unions, not having them in a parasitic relationship with it.
--I agree fully that a worker should not be forced to join a trade union. That way those unions can quickly become engines of corruption. This has historically happened even without compulsory membership. That said, the second half of the book will drive this point into the Earth's core to a ludicrous degree, as will be shown... now.

Bev tries to steal some expensive Whiskey. When caught, he puts it back on the shelf, but is then arrested. After that, he gets sent to a camp where he can be brainwashed into liking trade unions. This is nonsensical; the weak state cowers from the trade unions demand, but I doubt it would create something like this. Why would the trade unions need it, to rub it into those who refuse to take part in them instead of just keeping them in prison or on the streets? Bev doesn't even proselytise; he is a petty thief, nothing more (the teen gangs are let free, so why go after the hapless teachers?). If this were a syndicalist state, like in Kaiserreich, then I would accept it, but here it just makes this world even sillier.

There are some nice scenes; Bev interacts with a lady, for instance. But then syndicalist Snidely Whiplash comes to yell that this dastardly Bev won't accept the truth of trade unionism, so he sends him in the basement to get beaten up in secret, without hope of people knowing his plight. See above, really. It's the same thing, though even more laughable.

Bev gets to leave and joins some vague British-defensive-nationalist group, funded by Arabs, which has a plan. The pacing again crawls to a halt, but then it gains light-speed as Bev's diary is presented.

London's muslims go and start building a gigantic mosque for no reason. The workers start yelling at them, especially because (gasp!) they are not unionised. Shenanigans, riots break out spontaneously, Bev gives his daughter to a rich Sheik, as she is pretty, the King (Charles?) comes in and tells everyone to maybe stop, so they do. My favourite bit is when a muslim tells Bev that the land where they are building the mosque is not literally muslim, but spiritually so; it was genuinely funny.

After... that, Bev goes in another secret prison for not liking trade unionism. He teaches history, trying to figure out when everything went wrong in the world, but can't. He stops getting letters from his daughter; she's probably dead. Having nothing else to live for, Bev kills himself by walking into an electrified fence.

Whenever I mention this book to anyone, I initially refer to it as "'1984''s sequel", to see their confusion. I also keep the two right next to each other on my shelf, to make people wonder. It is nowhere near "1984" in quality, obviously, but it doesn't need to be. It is one third good essays and two thirds insane, enjoyable, though incongruous dystopian fiction. It is weighed down by taking place a single decade instead of several in the future, setting Burgess up even more for failure in prediction than Orwell.

I love this book's absurd world and demonization of trade unionism. I recommend this to everyone, regardless of political beliefs, though I do advise caution; rightists, this is silly and oversimplified; leftists, Burgess is exaggerating, but there is a core of sensible caution and truth here.

Burgess successfully predicts what Orwell cannot: the hyper-sexualization of youth and the breakdown of family, the unionization of governmental agencies, and the Islamization of England. Sound familiar? And yet this was written in the 1970's!

The question is, is America next?

A kind of pastiche/homage to Orwell's 1984. It doesn't bear the comparison too well but it's an interesting book. However I think that the thrust of Burgess's satire was already made far more potently in A Clockwork Orange and this doesn't add all that much.

The first half contains provocative essays and self-interviews, waxing Burgessly on the parallels between 1948 London (the original title for the novel was 1948) and the famous ur-totalitarian state familiar to most literate mammals, making the case for the humour in Orwell’s vision. The second half is a ludicrous and offensive comic send-up: Burgess repositions the novel from a right-wing perspective, spoofing the vituperative trade union movement of late 1970s Britain (UK is now TUCland), a world where mindless work and strikes are the oppressor, and art and education are the providence of the outcast proles, some of whom speak perfect Latin. As with most Burgess satire, his stance as an old Thatcherite curmudgeon tends to diminish the social comment, and nix the serious intentions. And as with most Burgess works, the end product is bursting with erudition and entertainment regardless. Scholars seeking to fact-hoover might wish to read the first half and skip the head-scratching politics of the second. Daniel was not pleased: “Geesus Christ!! Was that a richful Fucking waster. This Book has nothing, i repeat, NOTHING to do with 1984. [sic]” Nor was Brent: “A sloppily-written, half-assed, woefully-conceived agenda piece. Burgess should have been publicly shamed for writing such vomit. And maybe he would have been, had he but lifted his nose out of his typewriter. [sic]”

Right-wing garbage. The loathsome politics seem to have adversely affected the quality of Burgess' writing as well.

Nope.

I enjoyed the analytical parts of the book, while not agreeing with him on everything. They gave a lot of insights into where Orwell was coming from, which did seem to make sense. And the linguistics section at the end was interesting, unsurprisingly given how his other books show his fascination with language.

The parts where I disagreed with him were around his own views of where the Western world is heading. Although, of course I have the benefit of being half a century into the future!

The fiction part was less interesting. It was a redo of 1984 but “fixing” it to align better with his own predictions for the future. However if felt too much like an exercise to me, instead of being an engrossing as a story in its own right.

Quizá no impacta tanto este libro por lo temporal que fue, ya que en ese momento aún existía la sindicalización en USA y era una predicción de lo que podía pasar, sin embargo en México es el pan de cada día y el ver como casa sexenio un grupo extra le quita el poder al gobierno y en este caso (el ejército) se lo queda hasta después de que él se vaya, es algo de preocupar, ya que como se ve en este libro, los sindicatos le pueden quitar poder, incluso hasta a la corona Inglesa.

رواية هبلة، ربما لأنني فرد عربي مسلم تجاوز عام ١٩٨٥ بعقود، ولكن لا يمكن ان اتجاوز لا منطقيتها -احداثًا وفِكَر- وتطرفها إن جاز التعبير..
احببت المقدمة؛ تحدّث فيها الكاتب بلغة نقدية عن ١٩٨٤ جورج اورويل، وإن كان المترجم قد اقتطع منها الكثير.