Burgess was the dude. This is the best of his that I've read, better even than Clockwork which is pretty excellent. I would liked to have had a cigar and brandy with Burgess, hear his war stories.

Half essay, half unorthodox sequel from 1978. Holds up reasonably well.

The first half of the novel is an interesting literary analysis of George Orwell's 1984. The second half is not one of his better novels.

Really a critique of '1984' by Orwell and a novella about a union controlled UK in the seventies and eighties

The essay in the first half is fascinating, Burgess foresees a lot of the issues we are grappling with today about censorship and truth. The fiction, hmm, starts out okay, but my interest started to wane about half way through.

Похоже на 1984 Оруэлла, но не сравнится с оригиналом, конечно

I enjoyed some of the first essays, it was interesting to hear critique of Orwell’s work. But then it descended somewhat into right wing ranting...I tried to persist (you shouldn’t just read what you agree with!) but I had to stop because I just felt too uncomfortable. I understand it was written in the 70s but a lot of what he said made me squirm too much.

I cannot consider this book read. Could not make it past page 29. The "interview" chat didn't motivate me and the answers of trying to justify or interprete what Orwell thought when writing 1984 or that the book was a comedy.

Picked this up off a recommendation and was pleasantly surprised. Excellent. Probably better if you've read Orwell's 1984 already but it would good regardless.

An incredible look into what can happen when the trade unions force their worldview upon us. Set in England but this could happen in America too.

I've always been a fan of dystopias, but part of that has always been an element of fun, a wry certainty that surely things couldn't go *that* far. Most authors who tackle this subject maintain a certain degree of detachment, at least a cursory illusion that, despite, in many cases, compelling historical evidence to the contrary, this story is nothing but pipe dream, an exaggeration, the end of that so-called slippery slope that nobody ever really believes will ever come.

So I came in looking for entertainment, and though Burgess is as dryly funny as I always find him, the angst and futility leaking through every line of this was anything but fun to read. It took a while to sort out that he seems to buy into the illusion of free will, and a while longer to realize that he was railing against the government mandated prostitution that so often farcically wears the name of marriage using tactics that directly oppose the ones Orwell chose for 1984. On one hand, he's right. The truest use of that word is a language meant for two, one that supersedes all other bonds and implies some sort of intention of a future, validated but not defined by external expression, and while I respect that he wants to demonstrate the fluidity of language, there are times when accuracy ought to take second hand to communication, no matter how cringe-worthy the mistake. If it gets the point across, it's the right word, even if no dictionary will ever agree. It's nice when an author trusts the reader's intuition, but once in a while hints do come in handy. Particularly when your reader grew up largely in Victorian literature.

As to the attacks on socialism... wow. Political lines have a deplorable way of fitting whatever the politician wants them to mean, so I'd really prefer to leave that aspect alone for now.

"A man's called a traitor, or liberator,
A rich man's a thief- or philanthropist
Is one a crusader - or ruthless invader
It's all in which label is able to persist."

Wicked is a fantastic musical, by the way, which is why I'm hijacking their lyrics here. Sorry. But not very. Or at all, really.

I... I don't know. He and Vonnegut are both ramblers, and while I feel I could listen to either forever, the pressure of success seems to have taken a toll on their writing. If you're not bleeding the story, it won't have the impact. Fiction isn't journalism. It's far more personal than that. His plaints are easy to empathise with, but they're rushed, and the bluntness of shock value can dull if overused. Thus great authors have been known to burn partial books in loyalty to their own inner vision, publishers and paychecks be- uh- blasted. Good a word as the other, I suppose. Provided you know what's really meant.

Either way, this author is one who has a way of inspiring responses, and respect him for that, and I'll probably pick him up again eventually. He's fuel for a fire that maakes me want to write, and I love that. He's also a martyr drowning in the confines of his own mind for causes for which the public has no ear, and he knows it, but would rather die trying than miss his small chance to impact the world.

Clockwork Orange was a screwed up film, but an awesome book. Genius is often misinterpreted. Plus I can't find anyone who caught the Dickens references.

Can't say I liked this, exactly, but it made me think, and that's almost better in some ways.
________

Notes everywhere, what a mess. This should go here, not in a folder somewhere. Bloody linguists get into your head every time. So Enderby is peppered with notecards of verse. It's easier just to let the words come. The unconscious mind Will have its way. Written shortly after reading.

The fence comes soon or late, Love,
And we don't hesitate,
The storm that surges onwards,
The tides that seal our fate
There's no great loss in dying
If you go in a fight
The tragic are the petty ones
Who've lost the will to try.
You'd give the world to save them
These blind, and deaf, and dumb
Integrity lost on a world
By darkness overrun.

Great book. Burgess was a master. The structure is amazing. Highly recommended.