The setting is Kyauktada, home to a handful of white Europeans who rule over the Burmans, Indians and Chinese. The trouble begins when Flory, a timber merchant, wants to elect his friend Dr Veraswami to the exclusive Club. At the same time, the corrupt and fiendishly clever magistrate, U Po Kyin, is plotting against the doctor to increase his own power, and if Flory isn’t careful he’ll get in the way. Different from the other ‘pukka sahibs’, Flory is very lonely and the arrival of a young woman at the post, Elizabeth, seems to offer him hope. His vices threaten to catch up with him and meanwhile, there are rumours of a rebellion.

For a debut, it’s an astonishing novel, particularly because of its viewpoint. Burma did not become independent until 1948, so at the time of publication I’m sure the book would have scandalised many supporters of the British Empire. I wouldn’t say that I liked the book, although I did enjoy the detailed descriptions of the climate, plants, the native way of life, etc. There’s an awful chapter about a shooting expedition. Flory, himself the closest character to Orwell, may not be as racist as his contemporaries but he’s a terrible coward, cruel and a hypocrite. Everyone is brutally human in this book, making it a disturbing read.

In summary, a powerful, atmospheric, very unpleasant book which in some ways prefigures Nineteen Eighty-Four.

First published in 1934. This edition by Penguin Modern Classics, 2009, with an interesting spoiler-free introduction by Emma Larkin and a note on the text by Peter Davison.

Rebecca Solnit visits the cottage in Wallington where Orwell used to live and where he cultivated roses, along with many other plants. She explores what the garden and the outdoors meant to him, finding evidence in his writing, particularly Nineteen Eighty-Four. The biographical element is generally linear, with many discussions in between which aren’t necessarily about Orwell or roses but are linked to them. Topics include the disconnect between the consumers and the producers (including a visit to a rose bouquet factory in Colombia where there is more ugliness than beauty), climate change, colonialism, slavery and Stalinist Russia. With such heavy themes, it’s a book to weigh upon your conscience as you ponder all the dreadful things humanity is responsible for. Orwell was ill for much of his life and also injured in the Spanish Civil War but he pushed himself hard to take part, write prolifically and tend his garden. The book ends, somewhat unexpectedly, with a look at the River Orwell, which inspired his pen name.

Thank you to the publisher Granta for the advance review copy via NetGalley. The book will be published on 21st October.

Having re-read the book last year, I wanted to revisit Michael Radford’s film, which I had seen a long time ago. I was struck by how good an adaptation it is, carrying the main points of the story while omitting the smaller details. Inevitably it will always be depressing to watch. The film begins with the Two Minutes Hate, in which the Party workers are shown propaganda and encouraged to vent their anger towards enemies of Big Brother and Oceania. I think this was a great way of introducing the background and themes of the story.

The ending is interesting. In the book, we are told that Winston loved Big Brother. Whether that’s true or not, we can’t tell – but can only go with what we’re told to believe. In the film, however, he turns away from the big screen and says, ‘I love you’. His back is towards Big Brother. Who is he referring to? And in the dust on the table, he writes ‘2 + 2 =’ and never completes it. There’s more ambiguity here than the book suggests.

It’s very neat how the film was made and released in 1984, in London too, an unmissable opportunity. It’s worth noting that the Eurythmics’ famous song ‘Sexcrime’ was used for the trailer, but not present in the film. I don’t think it would have fitted the atmosphere really, as the song sounds a lot more futuristic than the film looks (if that makes sense).

Low-resolution image sourced from IMDb.

‘Paperback Writer’ – The Beatles (1966). ‘Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book? / It took me years to write, will you take a look?’ There’s a slightly seedy tone to the writer’s plea to be published, which suggests the trashy reputation that cheap paperbacks had. I think there’s a bit of snobbery even now about paperbacks…

‘Books and Water’ – Ian Dury and the Blockheads (2002). Books and water / Bricks and mortar / Books and water / You can do what you like on a Saturday night / But you ain’t coming home if you feel alright.’ Ian Dury gets an extra mention here for ‘Profoundly in Love with Pandora,’ the TV theme for The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, based on the book by Sue Townsend.

‘Marvin’ – Stephen Moore (1981). ‘I’m so depressed I could expectorate / My moving parts are in a solid state / I want to rust in peace, switch off and lie / In that great junk yard in the sky.’ One of a few novelty songs featuring Marvin the Paranoid Android, one of which, ‘Reasons to be Miserable’, is a parody of Ian Dury’s ‘Reasons to be Cheerful, Part 3’.

‘Wuthering Heights’ – Kate Bush (1978). ‘Heathcliff, it’s me, I’m Cathy / I’ve come home, I’m so cold / Let me in through your window.’ A reference to the creepy moment when the ghostly Cathy appears at the window in Emily Brontë’s 1847 novel. Emily and Kate share a birthday – July 30th. An extra mention here for her song ‘The Sensual World’, inspired by James Joyce’s Ulysses.

‘Singing in My Sleep’ – Semisonic (1998). ‘I’ve been living in your cassette / It’s the modern equivalent / Singing up to a Capulet / On a balcony in your mind.’ Falling in love while listening to a mix tape made by an admirer. A nice reference to Romeo and Juliet there but without any of the tragedy. I wonder what songs Romeo would have chosen?

‘Belle’ – from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, written by Alan Menken and Howard Ashman, sung by Paige O’Hara and Richard White (1991). ‘Oh, isn’t this amazing? / It’s my favourite part because you’ll see / Here’s where she meets Prince Charming / But she won’t discover that it’s him ’til chapter three.’ Introducing bibliophile Belle, different to the other townspeople.

‘The NeverEnding Story’ – Limahl, composed by Giorgio Moroder (1984). ‘Rhymes that keep their secrets / Will unfold behind the clouds / And there upon a rainbow / Is the answer to a neverending story.’ The title track of the children’s film based on the (much superior) book by Michael Ende and more recently the subject of a comedy moment in the TV show Stranger Things.

‘I Am a Rock’ – Simon and Garfunkel (1966). ‘I have my books / And my poetry to protect me / I am shielded in my armour.’ A song about hiding away from the world to avoid being hurt. Paul and Art get another bookish mention here for the song ‘The Dangling Conversation’, which mentions Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost. And of course, one of their albums is entitled Bookends.

‘White Rabbit’ – Jefferson Airplane (1967). ‘One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small / And the ones that mother gives you, don’t do anything at all / Go ask Alice, when she’s ten feet tall.’ Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and Alice Through the Looking-Glass (the song references both books) inspired this psychedelic song.

‘2 + 2 = 5’ – Radiohead (2003). ‘Are you such a dreamer / To put the world to rights? / I’ll stay home forever / Where two and two always makes a five’. One of many songs out there inspired by George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. Radiohead also get another bookish nod for their song ‘Lozenge of Love’ (1994), the title of which is a phrase in a Philip Larkin poem, ‘Sad Steps’.

‘The Invisible Man’ – Queen (1989). ‘I’m the invisible man / I’m the invisible man / Incredible how you can / See right through me’. H G Wells’ 1897 novel is about a man (not a nice man at all, it must be said) called Griffin who finds a way to turn himself invisible but the condition is permanent. This song was written by Roger Taylor.

I’m sure there are a lot more, but these are the ones I can think of. Have you got any favourite bookish songs?

Charlotte Brontë. I’d travel to Haworth Parsonage (which I’ve visited before, but obviously not in 1847) and we’d go for a walk on the windswept moor while discussing the recent publication of Jane Eyre. Although this time was a relatively happy moment in Charlotte’s life, I would feel sad knowing what the future had in store for herself and her siblings.

H G Wells. The master of science fiction was noted for predicting the future. I love musing upon the future so I think we’d click. We’d meet at the turn of the 20th century and I’d tell him that The Time Machine is one of my favourite books. However, I wouldn’t tell him what a mess the BBC made of The War of the Worlds.

Stella Gibbons. We’d meet in the late 1940s for a cup of tea and a bun in a cheap and cheerful café, like so many of her female characters do. I too have a sharp sense of humour so I think we’d have some laughs together. I’d tell her how much I like her post-Cold Comfort Farm novels and that after their reissues, many readers are delighted to discover them.

Virginia Woolf. I’d be intimidated by the prospect of meeting one of the greatest modern writers but I think she’d be fascinating to talk to. We’d have a smart lunch somewhere in London in the 1920s. I probably wouldn’t admit to her that I’ve touched (and, er, sniffed) a leather travel bag which belonged to her and which now sits in the Penguin Random House archive.

Mary Shelley. A super-intelligent and fascinating writer, Shelley would be an amazing person to meet, in between her writing, romantic journeys and tragic life events. I think it would be best to meet in Italy, where she spent a lot of her time. We could have proper Italian coffee and discuss the now legendary circumstances in which she wrote Frankenstein.

Jane Austen. It would be fantastic to see what Jane was really like, both in appearance and behaviour. We’d have a civilised tea at Chawton, Hampshire and talk about books. I’d try not to make some grave error in manners. It would be tempting to tell her how famous her name will become and also that what most people remember about Pride and Prejudice is Mr Darcy’s wet shirt scene.

Harper Lee. A very private person with a reputation as a recluse, merely because she didn’t grant interviews, Harper Lee might be a little reserved about meeting up. If we did, however, we would go to an anonymous New York coffee shop in 1961, the year that To Kill A Mockingbird won the Pulitzer Prize. I’d be tempted to suggest never to publish Go Set A Watchman…

George Orwell. Meeting Eric Arthur Blair would be fascinating, I’m sure. I think we’d have strong coffee someplace full of cigarette smoke. Or perhaps we would have a pint in a poverty-stricken northern town while he researches his book The Road to Wigan Pier. While I really admire Nineteen Eighty-Four, I would be too sad to meet him during the writing of it, as he was very ill.

H P Lovecraft. He has a reputation as weird and lonely with a far-out imagination, so I think we’d get on well. We’d meet in 1930s New England in some sinister old town haunted by eldritch beings older than the universe. Knowing he was to have a relatively short life dominated by poverty and tragedy, I’d also want to tell him how influential his work will be and maybe give him a hug.

Thomas Hardy. Dorset in the 1880s would be the obvious location to meet the author of favourite classics such as Tess of the D’Urbervilles and The Mayor of Casterbridge. We would have afternoon tea at Max Gate, the house he designed. I feel that he would be easier to get on with than some other Victorian writers as he seems unconventional and sympathetic.

Which writers from the past would you like to meet? Do you wish someone would hurry up and invent time travel?

This is my third reading of the book. Interestingly, I understood and appreciated it better this time around. Either I have acquired more brain cells, or the writing is finally sinking in. I’d remembered the text as difficult to wade through, but it turns out that the only parts I struggled with were the sections of a banned political tract which are reproduced in the story, and the appendix on Newspeak at the end.

Although Nineteen Eighty-Four is not the first dystopian novel, it’s certainly the most famous. The world is divided into three warring superstates. Our rebel protagonist, Winston Smith, lives in Airstrip One, Oceania. His job is to alter or delete the records of the past. Society is composed of proles (working class), Outer Party members (middle class – Winston is one of these) and Inner Party (the top dogs), headed by a figure called Big Brother. Although Winston is being watched all the time and knows that sooner or later he will be caught and tortured by the state, he gets away with little acts of rebellion. Then he meets and falls in love with Julia, sealing their fates.

I can’t help rooting for Winston and Julia every time. I know they’re not going to single-handedly bring down the totalitarian state. There’s no escape either, because Big Brother is always watching. However, there’s a hint of hope for the future, which Thomas Pynchon points out in his introduction to my edition of the book. The appendix tells us more about Newspeak, the stripped-down, censored, politically correct version of English which the Party intends for everyone to use. It’s written from the perspective of some time after 2050 and suggests that maybe there was a change in government which meant that Newspeak was not adopted after all.

It’s worth noting that the year is not as significant as we might think. Originally, Orwell set the book in 1980. Winston Smith guesses the year is 1984 – he can’t be sure, as the old dating system is not used in Oceania. I don’t see the novel as a prediction of ‘this is what things will be like in 1984’. Actually, the atmosphere has a flavour of the postwar austerity of Orwell’s time – rationing, shabby clothes, greyness, bomb-damaged buildings. Winston even has a troublesome cough, an echo of the author’s illness. I think the novel is an outstanding achievement, especially considering that Orwell had been diagnosed with TB before he wrote it. He died in 1950, leaving us a legacy of brilliant writing and powerful ideas.

First published in 1949. This edition is from Penguin Modern Classics, 2003.

I discuss the 1984 adaptation of the book, starring John Hurt, in this post.

As it’s Mother’s Day and my mum likes books as much as I do… Here are some of her favourites!

“I would choose either Animal Farm or 1984 (both brilliant, although 1984 is too rambling at the end and apparently Orwell was going to edit and shorten the story but died before he could do so). I would also pick The Handmaid’s Tale, Pride and Prejudice (I like Emma but P&P is my favourite) and The Railway Children (much preferred it to The Phoenix & the Carpet) as I love steam trains and had a childhood fantasy about living next to a railway line. Another is Anne of Green Gables (the relationship between Anne and Diana was a bit like that between my friend Penny and myself – she was always getting into scrapes and I was seen as the “sensible” one). My favourite Dickens is A Christmas Carol, even though it gave me nightmares as a child. Also, either Rebecca or My Cousin Rachel (can’t decide which). My fave “chick lit” is the Shopaholic series – I find them so funny.”

I think we share similar reading tastes, although I read a lot more non-fiction and I’m not as keen on dystopias or chick lit. We both like classic authors and have a fondness for children’s literature. This means we can share and recommend books!

Do you like to read the same books as your mum or other family? I wonder if one ‘inherits’ reading tastes…