I’ve been keeping up with Out of Print Clothing’s Book Madness competition. I entered. I’ve done pretty well, but I won’t win.
I had The Hobbit beating some other story in the final four and then going on to beat Harry Potter in the final round. That didn’t happen. 1984 beat The Hobbit in the final four. I think I had 1984 out in the second round.
But I have to say…I think I seriously misjudged how much people love 1984. As I look around more and more on the web, it seems clear that this book is BELOVED. And I have to say…I don’t get it.
Don’t get me wrong. 1984 is a compelling book, very interesting, more and more relevant as time goes on, and a worthwhile read every once in awhile.
But I didn’t close 1984 and love it. Not like I loved The Hobbit or Harry Potter when I closed them. There isn’t anything particularly loveable about 1984. There isn’t. In fact, it’s one of the more hopelessly spiritually crushing books I’ve ever read.
There is no real hope at all in 1984, and the hope that Winston does have is crushed under interrogation and torture, and he’s certain in the knowledge of his own eventual death at the hand of the always watching government.
Maybe it’s just me, but I have to feel something besides utter despair at the end of a story for me to really love a book and for that book to find a warm spot in my heart. Maybe it’s because I spend a lot of time feeling enough despair in reality that I don’t want it to be all consuming in my fiction, and it’s the opposite for other people? I don’t know.
Whatever it is, I seriously underestimated the love other people have for 1984. Unfortunately because of this, I will not win a $500 shopping spree at Out of Print Clothing.
words in scarlet ink 