Boozy Books: Apparently, I was saving 1984 until it was needed.

Hey, guys! Welcome to today’s Boozy Books.

I am going to keep this short.

There are already posts for Brave New World, Fahrenheit 451, and Animal Farm, all of which are books I think everyone needs to be reading. Yes, we all want to joke (re: laugh hysterically) about the Hunger Games coming, but the books that most accurately describe what’s happening now are the ones we’ve been talking about for years.

I have a special loathing for 1984. It’s actually a good read, so that’s not what I hate about it so much. To this day, George Orwell’s dystopian novel about Big Brother is the only book I have ever–ever–thrown at a wall. And I gave Twilight a chance. (Granted, I got two pages in before I realized the entire thing was trash, but I just laughed and dropped it back at the library the day after I borrowed it.) It’s the last line that gets me. ‘He loved big brother.’ It enrages me. It goes against every American ideal I possess, mostly especially that rebellions against shitty governments should work. And, ultimately, we can make our world better through active resistance. The idea that Winston could be re-programmed still sits like lead in my stomach, and I first read this book over a decade ago.

George Orwell doesn’t have that positive outlook. At least not in this book (if you read the pairing for Animal Farm, you’ll see what I mean). The state completely overwhelms Winston and Julia’s rebellion, torturing them and forcing them to each betray the other. In the end, Big Brother wins. And I am not happy with that. Never have been, never will be. I grew up in a nation where we threw tea in the harbor for a tax that actually meant we paid less than everyone else. And I am not about to think resistance is futile (OK, I know I’m mixing fandoms now. Sorry.)

I think everyone knows why I chose 1984 this week. You can’t possible not know. Not in a week with ‘alternative facts’ being bandied about completely seriously by representatives of the new administration.

I think, perhaps, whiskey is in order. Straight, no chaser, not even whiskey stones to keep it cold. Keep the bottle right next to you and pour until you can’t hit the glass anymore. I know that’s what I’ve felt like doing for the past week.

On a very-much-related note: make sure to toast John Hurt. RIP, Winston Smith.


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