Well first of all, Orwell is a fantastic prose writer. He can really make your feet feel tired by his descriptions of walking long distance in London, and the way he describes food, drinking, and the loose change in your pocket is right on the mark. What made me tired is the main character's total obsession about money. Not having money, the making of money, etc. I hated that and that is one of the main themes of this book. But then again I wanted to shoot the main character in the head and get rid of his misery.

But at the same time it reminded me of when I really didn't have money, and the importance of having a certain amount of coins in your pocket being the most important thing on this universe. So I am not sure if Orwell is making fun or light of those who hold money at a high level, or putting down a particular type of activist or socialist.

But at the bottom line, Orwell was a magnificent writer. He had an incredible eye for detail, and strange enough, while reading this book I thought of students or writers should study his prose style - because again, he's a magnificent writer.

It sounds so dry when one admires a writers' technique with respect to sentence structure, but Orwell is sort of a classic case book in how to describe the world around the writer. And as a reader, that is simply great.

The theme of the book is another matter.... and perhaps we can talk about that later via postings, etc.

Наистина доста жлъчна книга, хареса ми, не очаквах да е толкова остра. Обаче тоя Гордън е всичко, което презирам в героите от реализма - пълен глупак и гнусен, нескопосан нравствен бедняк и бреме за околните. Така и не разбрах защо някоя жена би си причинила общуването с него и какво изобщо е мнението на Оруел за него (подозирам, че отговорът не би ми харесал). А Рейвънслоу - защо му е на Оруел да кара някой свой герой да се срамува от това, че е богат, млад и изтънчен, при положение, че е толкова добър човек? Пълен абсурд! Социализъм - добре, но това вече е прекалено.

Objectively speaking, I am not sure that this is really a five-star book. But it certainly has affected me like one, hence my 'grade'. I have read it compulsively because despite being for many aspects so far away in time and setting (the book solidly mirrors and describes the social context of the Thirties in England), to me it felt so 'true', that it was almost too real.
The thing is that the book deals with things that have started to trouble me personally now that I am settling in, that I have just started my first proper job, and that the 'rest of my life' has begun.
Despite his harshness and stubborness, in Gordon Cormistock, the protagonist, I have traced my own concerns, my own disillusionment and disappointment. In him I have found my fears and temptations, and the dangers of coalescing with the pressures that society, family and friends exert on us. The dilemma that so many of us are faced with at some crucial point in our lives: should I follow my dream, or should I opt for normality, safety, a 'good job'? But also, more subtly (because Orwell's novel is not as black-and-white as that): isn't the first option another form of betrayal towards ourselves, towards the dreamers that we used to be? Because maybe it's all about understanding that you can't win, and that to grow up is to accept this deepest form of disillusionment.
The novel itself is extremely well-observed, precise, honest. I respect George Orwell even more, after reading it.

It's a tiresome book with a bitter, complaining main character with artistic ambitions. The snapshot capture of the time and place made it worth reading.


"The most difficult times were the 1800s, when many Victorian homes began to have indoor lighting powered by gas. Gas lights produced toxic fumes that induced headache and nausea, blackened ceilings, discolored curtains, corroded metals and left a layer of soot on every flat surface. Flowers and most houseplants wilted. Only two particularly hardy plants managed to survive the dismal environment of a Victorian home—the Kentia palm and the aspidistra. These two plants, especially the aspidistra, became a mainstay of every Victorian parlour, drawing room, lobby and upscale ballroom."
https://www.amusingplanet.com/2019/04...

I buddy read this book with my bestie, Ariel Bissett. We spent more time on Voxer than actually reading this novel most nights but in our defense we spent most of that time gushing about Orwell.

I think this is my favorite Orwell. I knew that from the very first chapter and oh what a chapter that is. I think it may be one of the best opening chapters to a novel that I've ever read, in fact, it's one of the best chapters that I've ever read.

This novel tells us the story of Gordon Comstock, a man that completely rejects capitalism so much that he gives up his job at a large advertising agency to work in a quaint little bookshop. He hates money. He just wants to be a poet. However, his selfless, money-hating, and sometimes irritating attitude does not help his life in any way. Gordon is still an incredibly interesting protagonist though and I felt that this glimpse into life was just perfect, perfect!

I really just want to run around the streets with copies of this book and throw it at people's faces shouting "OH MY GOD READ THIS". I would obviously be arrested for these actions so I'm going to do it here, OH MY GOD READ THIS. If you've only read the famous Orwells, Animal Farm and Nineteen Eighty-Four, then I highly suggest you read his lesser-known but (in my opinion) better works. This novel is a great entry point into the books that really made Orwell great. Once you're hooked though, you'll never look back!

I enjoyed this one of Orwells, written in 1936, and set in 1930s London. Gordon is a character set up to be pitied and despised, but who also grudgingly earns some respect, for sticking to his philosophy - no matter how theoretical and impractical it is.

There is no doubt the novel is deep into description - and for me that was what made it, the descriptive 1930s London, the grimy and impoverished existence of Gordon Comstock, the mundanities of every-day life in a going nowhere job, a struggling poet in the evening. The aspidistra as a symbol of middle-middle-class, Gordon's reluctance to use his three penny bit (which he calls a Joey) and his view that everyone would know it was his last coin.

Gordon offers enough for the reader to become, at least, partly invested in him. He lives a meagre existence by choice, nevertheless disdains it. He resigns from a good job, as he declared his 'war on money' and seeks only 'a job' (but not a 'good job'), while continually blaming his lack of money for his failure of a social life, and his going-nowhere relationship with Rosemary.

Of the other characters, Ravelston is for me the most interesting. Ravelston is relatively wealthy, but lives down as a part of his belief in socialism, become a benefactor to Gordon, trying as he might to encourage him to further his poetry, and using his position as an editor of a socialist magazine to publish a little of Gordon's work. Gordon is constantly battling against Ravelston, determined not to bludge off him, yet looking up to him at the same time.

While others may consider it too long, I enjoyed the descriptive nature of this story, and could have read more, and particularly enjoyed the bookshop description, and the scenes of public transport, and London in general.
4.5 stars, rounded down, as it isn't quite a 5 star book.

Some quotes:

They were one of those depressing families, so common among the middle-middle class, in which nothing ever happens.

--

Gordon put his hand against the swing door. He even pushed it open a few inches. The warm fog of smoke and beer slipped through the crack. A familiar, reviving smell; nevertheless as he smelled it his nerve failed him. No! Impossible to go in. He turned away. He couldn't go shoving into that saloon bar with only fourpence halfpenny in his pocket. Never let other people buy your drinks for you! The first commandment of the moneyless. He made off down the dark pavement.

--

“The mistake you make, don't you see,is in thinking one can live in a corrupt society without being corrupt oneself. After all, what do you achieve by refusing to make money? You're trying to behave as though one could stand right outside our economic system. But one can't. One's got to change the system, or one changes nothing. One can't put things right in a hole-and-corner way, if you take my meaning.”

--

The aspidistra became a sort of symbol for Gordon after that. The aspidistra, the flower of England! It ought to be on our coat of arms instead of the lion and the unicorn. There will be no revolution in England while there are aspidistras in the windows.”

Prima dei più famosi e conosciuti libri: La fattoria degli animali (1945) e 1984 (1948), Orwell scrisse questo: Fiorirà l'aspidistra (1936), romanzo sulla personale lotta del protagonista Gordon Comstock (aka George Orwell) ai quattrini, quattrini ed ancora quattrini, al Dio denaro, al degenerante guadagno, all'imprescindibile "Buon" posto (di lavoro)...
Questo libro lo comprai ad una bancarella, per un paio di Euro, sulla foga indescrivibile data dalla lettura di 1984, uno tra i miei libri preferiti in assoluto. Il titolo del libro mi aveva empatizzato subito: "Fiorirà l'aspidistra", quanti pensieri sul contenuto del libro mi aveva dato quel titolo, anche perchè il libro era sprovvisto di sovracopertina e quindi per me sconosciuta (ovviamente finchè non fossi tornato a casa). Poi il libro rimase più di 2 anni a "prender polvere" sulla mia libreria, fino a che, qualche giorno fa, decisi di prenderlo ed iniziarlo.
Durante tutte e 318 pagine, il racconto mi ha catapultato in un mondo a sè dove tutto ciò che mi circondava non contava o più semplicemente mi era lontano anni luce. Questo significa che il libro in oggetto, sia un capolavoro, che io non lo abbia condiviso in toto non conta, perchè comunque mi ha smosso le interiora, il cuore ed il cervello, fintantochè io ci riflettessi per tutta la durata delle pagine e pure oltre, anche ora che l'ho finito, le parole continuano a girarmi in testa e nel cuore.

"Si chiese chi fosse che abitava in quelle case. Dovevano essere, per esempio, piccoli impiegati, commessi di negozio, viaggiatori di commercio, galoppini di assicurazioni, tranvieri. Sapevano di essere soltanto marionette che ballavano solo quando il denaro tirava i fili? C'era da scommettere la testa che non lo sapevano. E quand'anche lo avessero saputo, non gliene sarebbe importato nulla. Erano troppo occupati a nascere, sposarsi, far figli, lavorare, morire. Poteva non essere poi una cosa malvagia, riuscendovi, sentirsi uno di loro, uno della folla di falliti. La nostra civiltà è fondata sull'avidità e la paura, ma nelle vite della gentarella comune avidità e paura sono misteriosamente tramutati in qualcosa di più nobile. Quei piccolo borghesi là, dietro le loro tendine ricamate, coi loro figli, i loro mobili dozzinali e le loro aspidistre, essi vivevano secondo il codice del denaro, senza dubbio, e riuscivano ciò nonostante a conservare le loro dignità. Avevano le loro norme, i loro inviolabili punti d'onore."

Prior to reading this I had just read Coming Up for Air (1939) and The Clergyman's Daughter (1935)

I adored Coming Up for Air. The Clergyman's Daughter was also very good

My expectations were therefore fairly high for Keep the Aspidistra Flying (1936)

Sadly it's not as good as either of the aforementioned books. Protagonist Gordon Comstock is tedious and implausible and constantly bemoans the consequences of his decisions. The ending was predictable and, whilst anything by Orwell is well worth reading, this is not up there with his best work.

3/5

Оруел предвижда с персонажа на Гордън Комсток почти всеки модерен колежанин социалист, обявил война на "Системата" като изпадне в перманентна позиция на жертва и спре да се къпе. Доста често съдбата им излиза една и съща, Гордън го ритва живота и се стяга, осъзнавайки че не може цял живот да си играе на бунтовник.

Също забелязвам как Гордън (тук пак ще направя едно модерно сравнение) е някак си едновременно в "матрицата" и в "антиматрицата" - обсебен от пари, като сегашното младо поколение, но в обратната посока, Гордън НЕ ги иска, въпреки че има всяка възможност да ги има и да живее един добър стабилен живот, обкръжен от хора, които ги е грижа за него. Модерният младеж е наполовина Гордън, обсебен да има МНОГО пари, напълно способен да има стабилна работа, но трагично обсебен от желанието си спрямо парите. И в двата случая войната против и в полза на парите е безсмислена и пагубна, човек не може да живее без пари, но пък и не трябва да се жени за тях.

На моменти параграфите са дебелички и посланието на Оруел е доста аматьорско в изпълнение, но все пак този роман е от първите му наченки, не може всичко писано от него да е класика.

Aspidistras – they seem to be mentioned in all of George Orwell’s novels – as far as I have read them anyway.

Gordon is a poet – although, most of his works have not been published and the ones that have seen the light of day simply fell flat. The book opens with a gloomy atmosphere and a rather unlikeable description of our main character. We then follow our unlikeable main character through his routine at work and his evening at home where he complains about money, customers, authors, poetry, books, advertisement, neighbours, landlords, lack of money, dirt, boredom, (the lack of) female acquaintances, loneliness, cold, food, money and of course his aspidistra – which, apparently, he tried to kill in various ways. He then gives us a summary of his family history, explaining that he had a depressed grandfather and that depressing people make others depressed which led to his father, aunts and uncles to all being depressed as well. That, of course, is the reason why Gordon dislikes his family and has turned out to be a rather depressing person himself. Ergo – this is a depressing book.

I like George Orwell’s writing style. It is clear and delivers vivid images. I am glad to have read 1984 and Animal Farm – neither were my usual cup of tea but they were good books. Burmese Days and A A Clergyman's Daughter on the other hand were dull and daunting. Having gotten through 4/6 of the Orwell novels I own I thought it would be a shame not to finish them. In addition, I kept hoping to find something I would enjoy – a novel that deals with sad and depressing themes doesn't have to mean it can't be enjoyable. But as for me with Orwell books... while I do enjoy the writing – there is a complete lack of humour. His works are so bleak through and through that, I feel like I can't get through any more of them.

I was being stubborn and really wanted to finish the last two. Others around me just questioned why I am punishing myself with these novels instead of reading something I can enjoy. I have gotten through 1/4 of Keep the Aspidistra Flying and have to admit defeat: I have little free time and I have no desire to waste it on a book that does nothing other than make me feel depressed. Perhaps one day I can come back to this but for now, I am afraid this is where Orwell and I part ways.

Samo nek aspidistre lete je četvrta Orvelova knjiga koju čitam ove godine, i, moram da kažem, polako ostajem bez opisa koje bih koristio za recenzije. Za ovo delo, kao i za njegovu prethodnu, nešto eksperimentalniju knjigu,Sveštenikova kći, Orvel nije imao preterane simpatije. Više ih je napisao kako bi došao do nekog novca i prehranio sebe. Ironično, glavna premisa radnje je upravo to večno pitanje, treba li se držati svojih principa i životariti, ili se prodati kako bi se iole normalno živelo.

Aspidistra je biljka koja je, u viktorijansko vreme, postala simbol srednje klase. Glavni izvor svetlosti su bile gasne lampe koje su ispuštale otrovna isparenja i jedino što je u takvim uslovima uspevalo su aspidistre. Zato ih Gordon Komstok, protagonista ove knjige, mrzi. Ne mrzi on samo aspidistre, već ono što predstavljaju: novac i ceo sistem zasnovan na njemu. On je umetnik, pesnik sa jednom nezapaženom zbirkom, ne treba njemu novac oko koga se ovaj, pogrešno postavljeni svet, vrti.

Da li će se Gordon prodati iz proste nužnosti za preživljavanjem, ili će ipak ostati odan svojim principima, mislim da svi znamo odgovor, ali je ipak bolje pročitiati knjigu :)

Dear George Orwell,

It's not you, it's me. It had to happen, really, this bit of faultering in the crush I've had on you. Sure, I've known you for years, but as you know, I've been completely smitten with you since last summer when I read your first published novel, Down and Out in Paris and London. I grew more smitten while reading An Age Like This, 1920- 1940, your early correspondance, reviews, and essays, and I remained so while reading your 2nd published novel, Burmese Days. But now the new car smell has faded a bit from my crush (sorry George, I know how Socialists detest it when emotions are fetishized and commodified). It's just that this latest book of yours that I've read, your 4th published novel Keep the Aspidistra Flying (1936, GB; 1956, US) has turned me from you a bit. I know that I'm probably making a mistake; others tell me how great you are--critic Lionel Trilling is quoted on the back leaf of my Harcourt edition as saying that Keep ... is "A remarkable novel ... a summa of all the criticisms of a commercial civilization that have ever been made," and the San Francisco Chronicle calls it "Both humorous and poignant." And to an extent, I agree--especially with Trilling's "summa" statement.

The story is simple enough: Gordon Comstock, a decent poet of little success, has declared war on money. He is determined that he will live in a constant state of poverty, battling throughout the book to avoid succumbing to the ownership of what is, to him, the symbol of the drudge of middle class life: the aspidistra, a spindly-leafed member of the lily family, prized for its ability to withstand poor soil, little light, and minimal care. And I have to say that establishing this plant as Comstock's nemesis is a fabulously Orwellian statement about what it means to achieve enough "success" to land oneself in the middling rank. If it were only that to consider, George, I'd still be all about you.

So what's my problem? you ask. Why am I giving you the "it's not you, it's me" speech? My problem is that your main character annoys me tremendously. Yes, Gordon Comstock shares some similarities to John Flory, the protagonist in Burmese Days. Both men step outside their immediate social group to take an objective look at that group. Both make attempts, albeit misguided and rather unsuccessful attemps, to avoid being manipulated by those close to them. But Flory is a much more sympathetic and likable character whose main flaw, one could argue, is blind romantic optimism. Perhaps in some ways, George, you see Comstock as Flory taken to the next step, the place one goes after blind romantic optimism has failed. To me, however, Comstock comes off as a whiney, self-destructive man having a major pout. He is determined that everyone around him be as repulsed by him as he is by the system that prizes the bastion of mediocrity that is the aspidistra.

In all honesty, George, I think the problem, as is so often the case when a romance takes a downward turn, is that Comstock reminds me of a past relationship, he reminds me of a friend in my real world, the one outside of the pages, who wanted to issue a similar indictment against society. I know it's bad form to compare our situation with one past, but it's true, I've seen it before, the way Comstock relishes his smugness as he sits in his pious filth only to realize that he is the only one who understands the joke. The problem is that neither my friend in the past relationship nor Comstock seem to understand that society as a whole doesn't take much notice when one man refuses to conform to its dictates. At most that refusal may get him tossed in jail for some fairly innocuous reason, but there's no real improvement in the social soil. As with my friend, when Comstock realizes this, he becomes disenchanted with his perfect society of one and must decide which is worse, to slog though life in embittered solitude or to join the rest of the group by opening the curtains to the front window so all can see that the aspidistra is thriving.

George, I guess what I'm saying is that I just need a little time and space. I know we've spent some amazing time together, and I'm sure that in time, I'll come to my senses and be back in touch. Until then, I wish you well and hope someone new finds you for the amazing guy you are.

All my best,

Patricia