Title: Fahrenheit 451
Author: Ray Bradbury
Publication date: 1953
Genre: Dystopian fiction
What’s it about?
In this dystopian version of America, books have been outlawed due to their potential to cause unhappiness and dissent among citizens. Guy Montag is a fireman, whose job it is to burn any books found, but his position is compromised when he himself is discovered to have hidden a number of volumes at his home. The novel follows what happens to him and his hopes for the future.
Where did I get hold of the book?
Rather ironically, I wasn’t able to get hold of a print copy of this book from either of the two libraries near to me, so I ended up downloading it on to my Kindle app. Given that the novel deals with the unpleasant consequences of technological innovations overtaking books as a leisure activity, this feels very wrong! So at some point I intend to go out and purchase a print copy, to take pride of place on my shelves.
- Find the book in a library near you (worldwide).
- Support local independent bookshops by buying the book from Hive (UK).
What did I learn from it?
I got a sharp reminder of the many ways we can be prevented from being alone with our thoughts. This is frowned upon in Bradbury’s vision of the future, because having space and time to think means we could potentially come up with criticism of the way the country is governed and take action against the powers that be.
The situation described in the book is extreme, but even now we suffer from multiple distractions. Television, radio, and of course the internet chafe away at our peace of mind, tempting us to be ‘always on’, to constantly seek out the next hit of soundbites, connection and noise, to feel we are keeping in touch with the world. Who has time to stop and think when there are tweets to be sent to complete strangers about our lunch, cats or political opinions?
Of course, it’s possible to resist succumbing to this never-ending stream of status updates, but Fahrenheit 451 is a salutary reminder of how easy it is to become attuned to this white noise and believe it normal. Even as I write, I am wearing earplugs, as my neighbour is singing very loudly to herself in her back garden, destroying my ability to focus. Cars are whizzing past, the television is humming away downstairs, and soon the ice cream van will come jingling round the corner in all its irritating, high-pitched glory.
It takes effort to distance oneself from the ongoing babble of modern life, but if we are to retain any control over our lives and our futures, it is vital that we at least try.
How did it make me see the world differently?
One of the reasons given for the burning of books in this novel is that they make people unhappy. In other words, stories are written about things that some might find difficult to contemplate. And the government of this fictional society has declared that, because people just want to be happy, they should not be exposed to views that upset them, whether politically or emotionally.
This reminded me very much of trigger warnings, which we see much more frequently these days than I recall seeing in the past. While, on the one hand, this is likely due to an increased awareness of the real harm that can be caused by forcing people into potentially traumatic or combative ‘conversations’, there is another school of thought that believes people should not be protected from attitudes they find objectionable, because this is life: it is full of differences of opinion, and being able to challenge any views we consider misguided is only possible if we know these views exist.
There is currently no consensus on whether trigger warnings are a good or a bad thing; as with most nuances of opinion, it depends on your personal circumstances and experience as to whether you believe they protect or mollycoddle. I will simply say that Fahrenheit 451 offers a somewhat chilling vision of what the future might look like if all dissent and offensive opinions were banished or burned.
What changes will I make to my life as a result of it?
I don’t think there’s been a single book during this challenge that I haven’t enjoyed to some degree – but I will admit that it is usually difficult for me to make myself pick them up and get on with them. Once I’m reading, it’s fine – the story carries me away – but getting started is generally a problem. ‘Oh, I’ve got to read my next Book Diaries book…‘ I usually end up squeezing them into weekends, which can be annoying if I have other plans.
Until this one.
I can’t remember the last time I was so carried away by a book, but I found myself wanting to pick it up and devour the next few pages even if I only had minutes to spare; consequently, I got through it much, much quicker than I was expecting to. Early weekday evenings were my best time for reading: the time I’d usually put my feet up after work, pour a glass of wine and scan the news (yup, that technological distraction…) – all that got put aside as I tore my way through this book.
It made such a pleasant change from my usual routine that I’ve decided to try and stick with it. If I can get in an hour every evening, I’ll free up more time at weekends, and with my freelance work taking over more and more of my week, I’m going to need my Saturdays and Sundays if I’m to do anything even vaguely creative. And I think this could be my way of grabbing back some time.
A musical interlude
Initially I thought I’d be able to find a song about books, but none of the ones that came to mind hit the right note. Everyday I Write the Book by Elvis Costello? Great song, but not quite there. I then, almost flippantly, was on the verge of picking The Trammps’ Disco Inferno – but, again, I decided the vibe was (not surprisingly) completely wrong.
My wonderful subconscious then took over and presented me with my final choice: The Unforgettable Fire by U2. The song title references an artwork about the bombing of Hiroshima – not inappropriate, given the events that occur in the last few pages of the novel (that’s not as much of a spoiler as you might think). Fire is also an obvious connection with the book’s subject matter. And the song itself is not flippant, not trite, but hauntingly beautiful, which I feel is a fitting tribute to one of the very few books I have ever given a 5-star rating to on Goodreads.
Don’t just listen to the song, though. Go out and read the book.