Review: FAHRENHEIT 451

This book is a novel of fictitious nature... or is it? Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury is renowned worldwide for it's analogy, prose, and in many cases, truth. Though the book was written over 50 years ago, many of the delicately disguised problems within it mirror those which hinder our lives today. And it is a fantastic book- elegant imagery, powerful phrases and characters as deep and real as a growling bonfire. In this small novel, boasting only 173 pages, there is detailed analysis of the world around us, fiery and willful aspiration, and dismemberment of the things we've learned to be customary.

I've talked about censorship before- and it seems to be a theme with me, since it was also the fire behind the will of Lies My Teacher Told Me, the last book I reviewed. Both are similar in that they address the present and future of this despicable censorship in our society as well as penetrate the pitifully shallow reasons for its existence. Pitiful are the reasons, perhaps, but the force behind them is far from such degradation. It is that which rules every aspect of our lives, what we see, hear, speak, and even , especially, what we believe.

The character Clarisse draws an interesting parallel to what I would consider to be an ideal member of a respectable society- which happens to be expressly why she is a misfit in Montag's world.

"'The girl? She was a time bomb. The family had been feeding her subconscious,
I'm sure, from what I saw of her school record. She didn't want to know how a thing was done, but why. That can be embarrassing. You ask why to
a lot of things and you wind up very unhappy indeed, if you keep at it. The poor
girl's better off dead... Luckily, queer ones like her don't happen often. We
know how to nip most of them in the bud, early... If you don't want a man
unhappy politically, don't give him two sides of a question to worry him; give
him one. Better yet, give him none.'"
-Beatty to Mr. and Ms. Montag, pgs.
60-61

Clarisse's disposition as well as her inevitable conflict with society is exemplified here, when Beatty begins one of his spiels. Beatty is an interesting character, as well. Corrupted perhaps not just by the societal expectations he lives with, but also himself- the man he forces back. He is cruel, and it seems to me like his emotions, his inhibitions, his humanity and capacity for understanding was banished long ago, appearing only in a faulty feign, even a lapse in composure. There is a question that remains, however: how did he change? We know that he was once on the fighting side, but we do not know why he abandoned it. It is then, in my opinion, a subtle hint at the molding powers of government, or even the fickle nature of human morality when confronted with authority (Milgram experiment anyone?)

The novel was, again, frighteningly similar to much of what I detest of the modern world. Certainly these problems were present at Bradbury's time, and it is depressing that they persist today. Bradbury, however, is more radical than liberal in his depiction of the main character; and for good reason, too. Books, literature, and a free mind are the most imperative elements in a healthy and societally progressive country. Montag and Faber do not merely suggest peaceful and cooperative means by which to change their world.

"After all, when we had all the books we needed, we still insisted on finding the highest cliff to jump off. But we do need a breather. We do need knowledge. And perhaps in a thousand years we might pick smaller cliffs to jump off. The books are to remind us what asses and fools we are. They're Caesar's praetorian
guard, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, 'Remember, Caesar, thou
art mortal.' Most of us can't rush around, talk to everyone, know all the cities
of the world, we haven't time, money or that many friends. The things you're
looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will
ever see them is in a book. Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved
in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if
you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore."-Faber to Montag, pg.
86

Here is when Faber is convincing Montag of the meaning of books and their infinite arsenal of knowledge, their indomitable prowess of imagery, and other such preachy truths. Montag, then, represents the average Joe. He represents someone who would've otherwise spent his time grinding away his life with little thought or contemplation, just completing his manual labor like so many others. That was, of course, the ideal of his society, and it is supplemented by propaganda and the delusion of Utopia which is so boastfully hammered into all citizens. I think what Montag is trying to tell us is that knowledge and truth can and will purge censorship and corruption, given time, passion, and a powerful mind and will. However, such things are never condones or supported. Who in the long run will master the human race? Will it be the deception of war and the wish to maintain conceit over favorable circumstances, or will it be humiliation, the urge to learn and discover and change, most importantly, grow?

Lastly, what parallels can we draw to this world of ours? Well, there are several I can list without hardly contemplating them. In Montag's world, a large nuclear war is taking place.

The events of the war are censored from the general public unless favorable. This is a truth present in practically every war in known history; especially in the more recent world wars in all countries who participated. Would the same tactic be used if we were purely imbicilic enough to wage a nuclear war? You bet your ass that's a yes. Same with the censorship: in Montag's world, any and all literature is banned if it causes a lick of discussion, any one side of a potential argument. This happened in the Soviet Union when literature and even visual art was restricted to that which supported the USSR, under penalty of jailing and sometimes death. If someone in Montag's world harbors illegal books in their house, even without spreading them to others, they can be burned within their house or euthanized by the mechanical hound.

Lastly is a topic breifly mentioned in the book, but in my opinion worth elaborating upon. One of Montag's wife's friends talks about her children like accessories, merely something to occassionally brag about. She leaves them in daycare most of the time and their school runs practically all day so she never has to see them if she doesn't want to. She says what's fun about them is that sometimes they look just like you and they might be cute. This is undoubtedly something that might have seemed rare and frowned upon at the time this book was written, it was clearly meant to be shocking, and Montag's rant following her words ratifies this. However nowadays this behavior by "mothers" is all too common. I don't think any mother should have any of these opinions and most certainly not only these opinions

In conclusion, I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It has been really entertaining and contemplatory. Sure, some of it's dated, and even archaic. But it manages to create a timelessness within. It's a wonderful story that I'd recommend to anyone and everyone, and it's less than 200 pages long so it's fairly easy to swallow.

Thank you very much for considering my review, and I hope you'll consider also Fahrenheit 451: the book that flipped my perspective on the past, present, and future United States forever.

FAHRENHEIT 451

DEAR IRENE

"Patience, Montag. Let the war turn off the 'families.' Our civilization is flinging itself to pieces. Stand back from the centrifuge."
"There has to be someone ready when it blows up."
Faber, Montag. pg. 87

Faber, trying to dissuade Montag. They make an interesting pair, they're very separate although they believe in the same things.

"Pity, Montag, pity. Don't haggle and nag them; you were so recently of them yourself. They are so confident that they'll run on forever. But they won't run on. They don't know that this is all one huge big blazing meteor that makes a pretty fire in space, but that someday it'll have to hit. They see only the blaze, the pretty fire, as you saw it."
Faber to Montag. pg. 103

I don't really feel like dragging quotes that tell what happened next, so I'll summarize it again with my thoughts and stuff

So basically, Montag does something really stupid by bringing out a book of poetry in front of his wife's friends. His house is set to be burned down when Beatty finds out about it. It's Montag who has to burn down his own house. Afterwards, he kills Beatty who had found the earpiece that Faber gave him. So then the mechanical hound goes after him and injects some poison into his leg, but all is not lost for he just blasts it with the flamethrower and meanders over to Faber's place once his leg stops...tingling.

So I guess he manages to get to the river unscathed even though all the authorities are after him

There's a lot I can say about it. It was certainly a dramatic plot twist. I like how Beatty was speculated to have had wanted to die, interesting based on his disposition.

I'll be honest, I'm not quite finished yet. I'm in a terrible mood

love, Irene

the rules

Of loving/dating. The unspoken code, if you will.

I'll try to outline what I do know about the American dating traditions even though I have no experience to speak of.

The rules differ from place to place, person to person. There's many different kinds of relationships, as well, even within the romantic spectrum. Some people like to date on and off with a group of people they associate with, but think of as reserved for romantic interest rather than friendship. Others prefer one person to proudly go steady with. The level of secrecy is perhaps the most personal. Some people feel confident enough in their parents to let them be one of the first people to know, but most people my age will just tell their friends. Some people don't tell anyone at all, preferring to wait for someone to notice, or perhaps assuming it's none of anyone's business. (This is the French way. A French couple never introduces a romantic partner to their parents as that kind of partner unless things are marriage-serious.)

Perhaps there are rules we can all agree on, then. Let's discuss the cultural differences in relationships that you'd notice if you went to a new place. Formal relationship rules are found in places like Germany and Japan whose culture generally requires that people are quite reserved about their thoughts and feelings. There are things all couples are supposed to do, like make chocolates on valentine's day or buy a bouquet of "the right flowers" to express your love to someone. Flowers, especially roses, and their colors matter a lot in Europe. Red can mean passionate love, while lavender represents infidelity. But in places like France, Italy, or Spain, it's a lot less formal. There's a good atmosphere for lovers and people are culturally, well, enamored by love. In France they don't really use an official relationship status. They keep things cool and casual, and it takes a lot of stress and conflict out of the situation, in my opinion.

I can't speak personally about the American dating experience because I don't really have that experience. I've been lent a jacket in the cold before, and bought a meal, but those occasions weren't with an American nor were they in America. So, here I guess I'm just awkward about the whole thing.

High school relationships here SEEM pretty casual; but I think there's a lot of unnecessary drama brought about by the stress and confusion that specific relationship titles and such bring. There's so much pressure in it all that I'm not sure I'd like to be involved in that bullshit myself. I guess I'm just casual about the whole thing, really. I don't really care one way or the other. In general, I think people in american high school take themselves and their relationships way too seriously ( not that the taking themselves seriously thing was anything new.)

Also, text message dating? Fucking ridiculous.

FARENHEIT 451

This book has been really good so far. Sure, some of it's dated, and even archaic. But it manages to create a timelessness within. It's a wonderful story so far, and it's even separated into 3 parts already to make my life easier.

I know just writing a summary is boring but I'm going to write some of the events that happened that were significant so we can keep on track. First of all, Clarisse died. That was pretty terrible, for me, and especially for Guy, who considered her the first friendly person he had met in a long time, perhaps his whole life. Guy also had to burn an old woman's house down, but before he did he managed to swipe a book (scandalous!) Anyway, that the woman burned along with her house full of books really rattled Guy. So much so that he decided to take a day off, sick in bed. Still, his boss comes to his house to lecture about the important roles these fireman play in preserving the lifestyles people like to lead... he talks about how books only brought argument. However, all this was not enough for guy. He decides to meet with a retired english professor from the old days, before people stopped majoring in english and the colleges went out of buisness.

Whew, that was a block of text. Well, here's some quotes that I found interesting.

"After all, when we had all the books we needed, we still insisted on finding the highest cliff to jump off. But we do need a breather. We do need knowledge. And perhaps in a thousand years we might pick smaller cliffs to jump off. The books are to remind us what asses and fools we are. They're Caesar's praetorian guard, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, 'Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal.' Most of us can't rush around, talk to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven't time, money or that many friends. The things you're looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see them is in a book. Don't ask for gaurantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore."
-Faber to Montag, pg. 86

This is part of Faber's response to Guy's crazy proposition to bring books back into the world. You see, in Guy's universe, all books are sought out and destroyed. They have started and won two nuclear wars, and the citizens are heavily sheltered from the rest of the world.

"'The girl? She was a time bomb. The family had been feeding her subconscious, I'm sure, from what I saw of her school record. She didn't want to know how a thing was done, but why. That can be embarassing. You ask why to a lot of things and you wind up very unhappy indeed, if you keep at it. The poor girl's better off dead... Luckily, queer ones like her don't happen often. We know how to nip most of them in the bud, early... If you don't want a man unhappy politically, don't give him two sides of a question to worry him; give him one. Better yet, give him none.'"
-Beatty to Mr. and Ms. Montag, pgs. 60-61

Some things don't need further explanation. I think this quote fairly outlines the attitude of the government in Guy's universe.

beaucoup

I'm actually glad we're writing blogs today because I have a lot to say. Here's what I think about my hobby of drawing:

Would you like to know why I practice so much? It's because when I was very small, maman told me that if I practiced enough I could draw absolutely anything that I could imagine in my head. In a childish determination, I took up the hobby and brought it with me throughout my years. I wanted to do something only I could do, maybe even learn things about my own thoughts in my drawings.

I feel differently now, I know that no one mind is truly unique. Now, I draw not to manifest my fickle ambivalence, but to relate to others. It's only when others appreciate my art that I appreciate it as well. An unloved art is usually trash, anyway.

When I draw, it is still from a series of pictures in my mind. I remember scraps of reality, invent other bits, and paste them together through my fingers. Concept is almost foreign to me for this reason. It's one of the reasons I'm not as good at drawing as I probably could be. It's through drawing I've realized just how fallible my mind is. It's the detours I've learned to take, slowly replacing confusion with steadfast reality, that allows me to progress.

This is why drawing is interesting for me.

I don't like to think of myself as an individual. If someone likes the images it's because they're familiar with them, and my reality is the same as anyone else's. I have functioning eyes, and they are the only creative tools that help me improve. I am in no way unique, to be honest, the thought repulses me. I can't ever detach myself from any living human being on this planet earth. We are all one singular group and I am a small addition. It is all that I am and all that I ever will be.

How do I learn new techniques? It's mostly experimentation. I haven't taken a class in school in two years though I'd like to. Last year, I took a summer class at OSA, where I learned a lot about anatomy and it also really helped me. If you're looking to improve your drawings I highly recommend sketching a nude model or just sketching from life in general. As for techniques, they are usually learned from experimentation. Anyone can tell you a technique, but it's up to you to apply it and the only way to learn how to do it is to try.

Often, someone tells me that they wish they could draw as well as I do and that they probably never will. This is terrible! Everyone can draw, absolutely everyone. And everyone is a different artist. We all have styles, technical skill, and an eye for color, shape, and movement. But practice is the only way we can apply these things to a still piece. It's not only about creating a pleasing aesthetic, it's about expressing your mind. Indeed, each drawing is an impression of the mind's interpretation of one thing or another.

Drawing has changed the way that I think. As I said before, I now realize my mind's weaknesses, and it helps me to improve them. It helps me learn about how I see the world internally, not through the ideas on the paper, but by the inconsistencies in the manifesto itself. Each drawing, then, is a specific flaw, and I learn from each.

Well, that's really everything I can say about drawing. As usual feel free to ask questions though.

My psychotherapist called me existentialist and nihilist.

S: (n) existentialism, existential philosophy, existentialist philosophy ((philosophy) a 20th-century philosophical movement chiefly in Europe; assumes that people are entirely free and thus responsible for what they make of themselves)

S: (n) nihilism (a revolutionary doctrine that advocates destruction of the social system for its own sake)

I think that I agree with her but it really depends on your interpretation of the word "meaning." Meaning, hmmm... I think that humans are nothing more than a biological being, an animal at best. However, I think that in our realization of the universe, of the smallest building blocks that compose us and most of the universe, it is our duty (as a responsible, intelligent species) to investigate these things above all costs.

What do I mean? I mean that there is absolutely nothing more important, meaning-wise, than to discover the structure behind our lives and our world. Personal needs are totally useless in this respect. It's true though, that you could consider this investigation to be a personal need on my part. What I mean is, for once in our lives, ONCE in the history of life, we need to think beyond our conceit.

4,000,000,000 years of evolution, and we are finally on our way to the most important questions in life. 3,000,000,000,000 cells in each of us, triumphing in their evolutionary success, and we are able to contemplate that from which we spring. We must not waste these numbers.

off topic

Absurdism. I'm contemplating it, or what about it there is to contemplate. It's closely related to Nihilism and Existentialism, which for me is admirable.

Yes, if I am given the opportunity to contemplate a philosophy, I will do it. I have been contemplating this one.

For me, it's as if I can't really find meaning in anything, so we are on each others' level there. It is not my duty to live for any ideal, or moral, or and especially religion, so it agrees with me. I like to focus on what I am, a human. A member of a very large group of organisms and that is absolutely all there is to it.

So from that perspective, my perspective, the only thing I can do that is remotely productive and positive is to help people and make them happy. It is what I like to do, it's the only thing I care to do. I wish I was better at it. I have no wish to "satisfy myself" with the opportunities my lifespan could provide, no. Not marriage, children, money, pride or otherwise. I am not a person of ideals and morals. I am realistic, and the realistic nature of my life is that I am a member of a group. It is my best interest to better that group in any way that I can. I'm trying to slide along the corridors of existence with as little negative interference as possible, to act as a positive being in all respects...

For that matter, I am no kind of moral individual. Life has taught me that death is essential even if sudden, even if painful. Death is not to be regretted. Memories and opportunities may be a thing to be mourned, but there is no respect in death. Death is as primal as time itself. Do I fear death? No. Do I wish it upon others? No. But deaths are a tragedy and an atrocity when initiated between the hands of brothers. War should not exist for this reason. We cannot consider ourselves even remotely responsible for anything if we allow war and nuclear weapons to continue in this world.

So, what then? This too is human conceit, isn't it? I'm beginning to think that human conceit it the root of all evil, if you consider evil the destruction of the environment, society, and the world. Well why not? We like being conceited. There isn't, obviously, any other force that we would call "equal" that could even attempt to challenge our position in this world. And yet with every gallon of gas burned, we're ensuring the downfall of our species and so many others. Eh, it seems like I can't help but to get apocalyptic every now and then. I just like thinking about the future.

I can't really expect much to change right now. There's simply too much stupidity for anything to get done. Stupidity and conceit, that is. What can I even hope to expect from my own generation? If history is any kind of lesson, then probably not much if anything at all. Sure, there are small steps we can take. But these steps are indeed too small, and much too far in between. In my lifetime, the realization of climate change has occurred, but not much else. The iron grip of the rich and frantic has prevented any major progress. The more I see of the world around me, the less hope I have for my generation and thus future generations. Frighteningly contrary to my usual enthusiasm, I find myself feeling a need for an apocalyptic event. What if humanity could start over? What if we could take our knowledge of sciences and mechanics and history and create a world in which we wouldn't have to worry about any of this?

That's what I would call a utopia. A balanced and controlled population of people devoid of conceit or small mindedness. People who progressed for the good of their people rather than the good of themselves.

Some people would say humans are too primal to achieve peace. I beg to differ. If we can send a fucking spaceship full of living organisms to the moon and back, our possibilities are essentially endless. Excuses should have no effect on our reality.

It might not make sense to everyone, but it makes perfect sense to me, not that my sense is worth much.

FAHRENHEIT 451

Dear me,

I decided to read this book, a classic, because I am interested in propaganda and it seemed like a good choice. It's much shorter than my last book, 179 pages. It's fiction, and figurative. It's well written and melancholy, real but more surreal... It's a lot of things. I suppose I should analyze a quote, then.

He felt his smile slide away, melt, fold over and down on itself like a tallow skin, like the stuff of a fantastic candle burning too long and now collapsing and now blown out. Darkness. He was not happy. He was not happy. He said these words to himself. He recognized this as the true state of affairs. He wore his happiness like a mask and the girl had run off across the lawn with the mask and there was no way of going to knock on her door and ask for it back.

This is the moment in which Guy takes her words to heart, her being the girl he met, Clarisse. He takes them to heart perhaps too much. Yes, it is perhaps an act of over-contemplation. But he knows that he is not happy, and it comes at him not like a baseball or an orange, firm and ripe and aimed square in the face, it comes to him rather like a swift and unforgiving tide. In a single pulse, the cover is wrenched away, the cover that lay stagnant for as long as he chose to ignore it. It is him, now, she has discovered him, and he is alone in his house with his wife who has downed sleeping pills like a child might candies, her breath faint as the dull flicker of a cat's ear in a quiet room. He is left unsettled, yes, for his wife had quite scared him half to death, only to retreat obliviously in the morning. Guy is bored. He is not happy. He is perhaps, what he knows is wrong with his actions manifest, and it hangs around his shoulders like a limp but grotesquely weighty corpse. It is such a thing you cannot forget.

And then, in this quote below, we see some of Clarisse's nature, perhaps. She is told she is peculiar and their conversation reflects it, she is observant but carefree, really.

They walked still further and the girl said, "Is it true that long ago firemen put fires out instead of going to start them?"
"No. Houses have always been fireproof, take my word for it."
"Strange. I heard once that a long time ago houses used to burn by accident and they needed firemen to stop the flames."
He laughed.
She glanced quickly over. "Why are you laughing?"
"I don't know." He started to laugh again and then stopped. "Why?"
"You laugh when I haven't been funny and you answer right off. You never stop to think what I've asked you."

It is, of course, a story of a man who does atrocious things but never stops to question them until he realizes how atrocious they are, until he realizes that law is not a pair with righteousness, that some laws can and should be broken for the greater good. Of course he would not stop to think yet, then, no such person would search for meaning, for thought. His thoughts were bland. However after this conversation his thoughts are errant, intense, pounding upon his conscience as roughly as a furious lion, as quickly as a bat out of hell. It's admirable, entertaining. We'll see.

Until next time,
Irene