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Courting the Classics: Fahrenheit 451

Reviewed by Erica R Hopper

“It was a pleasure to burn.”

From the very first sentence Fahrenheit 451 gives promise of writing that is both skilled and beautiful and a gateway to a dystopian place with which we are unfamiliar. Burning causing pleasure? In our reality, if burning were pleasurable you would be labeled a pyromaniac. But as you are engulfed by the world of Guy Montag, similarities to our world begin to appear. Censorship reigns, and the burning of books and suppression of knowledge is common. The fear that citizens will know more than they should is a driving force for those in power to control those around them. Suddenly you are reconsidering your initial opinion of this book. Suddenly you feel that this place may be a little too familiar for your tastes. Suddenly it seems an awful lot like the world we live in today.

Guy Montag is a firefighter…more like firestarter. Alarms send him to the homes of those who hoard books of any kind. The firefighters go to the home, set it ablaze, and leave it and all the books within to burn while the hoarder is dragged off to Somewhere Else. When Guy meets Clarisse, a seventeen year old who lives near one of his fires, she opens his mind to the possibility of non-conformity and therefore pushes him into examining reasons for the fires. He begins to look onto the meaning of the books he burns and questions what society has become. Who is “The Family” his wife obsesses over? Why are the citizens under such lock and key, and prevented from gaining knowledge? Why are these people being forbidden to educate themselves? Finally, Guy Montag must run for his life, because he questions the control of the government and the way people think.

Fahrenheit 451 is a widely-known novel and a go-to for high school teachers, but it is also popular in another way: it is often banned. From the year 2000 to 2009 Fahrenheit 451 was one of the 100 most challenged books in America because of its questionable themes and use of the phrase “God damn.” Funny that a book which highlights burning of books and control of the written word is a frequently challenged book. Fahrenheit 451 isn’t the only book to be challenged in America; it’s a prominent enough problem that the American Library Association has celebrated thirty years of freedom to read in retaliation for the numerous challenges against books in public settings. People have gone so far as to burn books that they disliked, such as the Lord of the Rings, in defiance of “Satanic” themes. Maybe Bradbury wasn’t creating as much of a fictional world as we all thought.

It’s a common belief that Bradbury’s book focused solely on the banning of books, but Bradbury stated four years prior to his death that people had actually misinterpreted his intentions with the book. Bradbury intended its message to be about the controlling nature of television.

“Bradbury, a man living in the creative and industrial center of reality TV and one-hour dramas, says it is, in fact, a story about how television destroys interest in reading literature. ‘Television gives you the dates of Napoleon, but not who he was,’ Bradbury says, summarizing TV’s content with a single word that he spits out as an epithet: ‘factoids.’” (Source: Ray Bradbury: Fahrenheit 451 Misinterpreted)

Whether or not readers have misinterpreted Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, the dystopian world he created still is dangerously like the world in which we exist. Many movies and television shows have been based on published material, and a good number of the fans of these productions have never picked up the original book. How often is there commentary about teens not going out to play, not peeling themselves away from the TV or computer? By definition dystopia is “an imaginary place where people lead dehumanized and often fearful lives.” Our current world may not have banned books completely in favor of The Family on TV or replaced firefighters with firestarters, but Bradbury’s creation of the world in Fahrenheit 451 does not dwell too much in the world of imagination. Have we become mindless creatures controlled by produced entertainment like the people in this book? Or are we of the hunted, those who still cling to knowledge and fight against brainless inactivity? This novel may be a work of fiction, but it may be closer to real life than anyone is willing to admit.

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To read more of Erica Hopper’s book reviews, please visit her blog at http://soonrememberedtales.blogspot.com/

Courting the Classics: The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

Reviewed by Autumn Markus

The setting is North America, Gilead, to be exact, in the not so distant future. The world has been ravaged by pollution, fertility is at near zero, and war is an everyday matter between a shifting group of super powers (shades of Orwell’s 1984). Gilead is ruled by a highly conservative religious cabal, whose primary function seems to have been to strip women of all rights—not only can’t they vote or have possession of money or property, they are even forbidden to read. Contraception and abortion have become hanging felonies. Fertile females have been rounded up as babymaking machines, passed between one powerful man to another, with the hope of creating another generation in a dying world. We are introduced to Offred (not her real name–Handmaids are identified only by their relationship to her current ‘owner’– our protagonist is in service to Fred, thus she is Offred), and through her, to our view of how her world disintegrated under religious rule. Offred takes us through the steps: first, she’s cautioned to keep her opinions to herself; next, her bank account (accessed only by a card, and don’t imagine I don’t think of that every time I use a debit card) is assigned to her husband; then, she is forbidden to work at all—in fact, she and her husband decide, maybe it’s better that she stay home nearly all of the time. As conditions deteriorate and children are openly being taken from ‘substandard’ parents and reassigned to the Chosen, Offred and her family decide to escape. Instead, she is captured, ‘reeducated’, and assigned to a Commander as Handmaid (babymaker). Her husband is missing, presumed dead, and her child is taken anyway.

The reeducation did not quite take with Offred. This book offers the reader a view of Gilead through her eyes: it’s ugly, demeaning, and cruel. We see a fellow Handmaid give birth to a healthy baby (these are rare, we are lead to believe), only to have it taken from her immediately and given to her Commander’s wife with all the pomp and circumstance of that woman having gone through the actual delivery. It’s heartbreaking. Offred herself journeys from mental insurrection to actual outright rebellion when she has an affair with the Commander’s driver. As we as readers watch her day to day life unfold, we are by turns fascinated and horrified by the line between rejection and acceptance Offred walks.

And this is where The Handmaid’s Tale gets me: right in the “I would never…” bone. I think what brings me back to this novel year after year is the absolute believability of Offred as a human being. When I was younger, it was very easy to be self-righteous, to claim to myself “I Would Never” take the road Offred appears to take near the end of the novel, the point at which she seems ready to do anything to keep the little bit of life and warmth she’s created with Nick (the driver). Even she seems to be appalled by her acceptance of the status quo. As I get older, though, life becomes more precious and my own estimation of my powers of ‘stick-it-to-the-man’ goes down. Bucking the system is damn difficult, and life wears you down. Offred is a lovely character because she is so very human—she’s fine with her little rebellions, but wavers when offered the chance to openly rebel. She wants to see her daughter (a prospect quite cruelly offered by the Commander’s jealous wife). She wants to have her stolen moments of peace and human contact offered by Nick. She wants to keep breathing in and out, even if it’s just for a little while longer. Is that so unbelievable?

The Handmaid’s Tale is a beautifully told story. It brings up several issues that have troubled our nation and our world for decades. Given the current political climate in America, some of Atwood’s musings seem particularly apt. It is perhaps the most accessible book by a modern literary genius, and well worth a reading.

Personal note: I had to refer to Sparks Notes to keep my facts on this novel straight, as I handed my copy of The Handmaid’s Tale to my 11^th grade daughter, to read for her Advanced Placement English class. It was confiscated, with the note that it “Might not be appropriate reading for a young woman of her age.” I pick it up today, with a grim sort of tip of the hat to Ms. Atwood, the visionary.

Autumn Markus contributes regularly to Courting the Classics, and recently published her first novel, Cocktails & Dreams. Her website is http://autumnmarkus.com/

Courting the Classics: Welcome Fall!

August 30, 2012 Courting the Classics, Our Programs No Comments

by Autumn

We may be a couple of weeks from brisk weather, but I’m already dreaming of soup. Homemade bread. Baked apples. Jackets in the evening around the firepit. Death and wholesale destruction.

*SCREECH*

I hear you going back to read that last bit again, so let me explain. Fall is always a time that draws me to my favorite chair (or even better, my favorite wicker loveseat on the back deck), wrapped in a quilt, a mug of tea in hand… to read about harsh times. Dystopias, to be exact. Fall is my season to read King’s Dark Tower series, and 1984. I read Fahrenheit 451 and Brave New World. I even find myself drawn to The Road (a dark, modern dystopia), a book I swore I’d never read again. Most particularly (and aptly, this year), Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale is calling from my shelf of favorites. I’m sure you all have your, likely newer, favorites in this genre—I personally enjoyed The Hunger Games and Cronin’s The Passage (awaiting the sequel, due in October!).

I’ve found myself thinking about this dystopian craze, and my own predilection for dystopias in the fall, and I think they come from the same place: when it’s dark and cold, we look for something that reflects our exterior world, magnifying it so we, by comparison, sit in more light and heat. Sometimes the cold is literal and sometimes it’s figurative—we could be experiencing a climate change or a change in economy. Did you know that interest in dystopian fiction, as well as horror fiction, waxes as the economic climate gets worse? It could be worse—racism also increases with an economic downturn. I, for one, will take a dystopia over that any day.

So here’s your challenge: along with your Hunger Games and Divergents, take a look at classic dystopian fiction. We’ll have a few reviews here to get you started, but feel free to go beyond that. Take a good look at how bad things could be, then be thankful for what you have. It’s only natural.

Courting the Classics: The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin

September 19, 2011 Courting the Classics, Our Programs Comments Off

Review By Duskwatcher

When I heard that the Fictionista Workshop people were looking for reviewers to share the classics, I was intrigued, but it wasn’t until they consented to reviews of science fiction classics that I jumped at the chance. Speculative fiction, as it’s sometimes called, is more than just fiction set at some point in the future; at its best it holds up a mirror to ourselves. It shows us what could be, what can be, what the experience of being human actually entails.

So, for the start of what I hope is a series of reviews, I wanted to start with a modern classic of science fiction, The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin. I prefer my sci-fi with an anthropological or sociological, rather than techno-centric slant, and this one delivers. And it is appropriate that we start this off during the “Banned Books” month at Fictionista, as this book has seen its share of controversy since its initial publishing in 1969. A winner of both the Hugo and Nebula awards, it is stunning in both the sweep of its imagining of the milieu in which the story is set and the characters that inhabit it.

Genly Ai is the First Envoy for the Ekumen, a federation of planets. It is his mission to arrive on a potential member planet alone, armed only with his message that beyond the stars is a galactic federation that wishes to arrange peaceful trade and an exchange of ideas. He has been assigned to the planet Gethen, a cold and forbidding place where winter rules.

Gethen’s inhabitants are human, with one huge difference: they have no gender. Instead they are androgynous, possessing both male and female potential, which is only expressed during a brief mating cycle. Whether that is male or female is variable; the mother of several children might be the father of several more. It is something the Envoy struggles with.

When you meet a Gethenian, you cannot and must not do what a bisexual naturally does, which is to cast him in the role of Man or Woman, while adopting towards him a corresponding role dependent on your expectations of the patterned or possible interactions between persons of the same or the opposite sex. Our entire pattern of socio-sexual interaction is nonexistent here. They cannot play the game. They do not see one another as men or women. This is almost impossible for our imagination to accept. What is the first question we ask about a newborn baby?

Yet you cannot think of a Gethenian as “it.” They are not neuters. They are potentials, or integrals.

Spoiler Inside: The Left Hand of Darkness , continued	Select Show
Genly Ai becomes the unwitting pawn in a power struggle between political factions, and is aided by the powerful and enigmatic Prime Minister, Estraven. When Estraven is exiled by his mad king and Genly Ai is sent to a concentration camp, it is Estraven who rescues him and together, in a desperate and near suicidal move, they attempt to cross the polar ice cap to what they hope is refuge. Thus begins what is one of the most searing and intense journeys in science fiction. They struggle against the brutal arctic conditions daily while each evening share the confines of their small tent, forcing them to face and reconcile their alien differences. And I saw then again, and for good, what I had always been afraid to see, and had pretended not to see in him: that he was a woman as well as a man…He had been quite right to say that he, the only person on Gethen who trusted me, was the only Gethenian I distrusted. For he was the only one who had entirely accepted me as a human being: who had liked me personally and given me entire personal loyalty: and who therefore had demanded of me an equal degree of recognition, of acceptance. I had not been willing to give it. I had been afraid to give it. I had not wanted to give my trust, my friendship to a man who was a woman, a woman who was a man…But it was from the difference between us, not from the affinities and likenesses, but from the difference, that that love came: and it was itself the bridge, the only bridge, across what divided us. For us to meet sexually would be for us to meet once more as aliens. We had touched, in the only way we could touch. The whole Gethenian society revolves around the duality of its inhabitants. Many will see in the kingdom of Karhide a distinctly Eastern influence, as much of the societal influences come from a mystic philosophy. This is in contrast to their enemy and opposition, Orgoreyn, which is a chilling bureaucracy. Light and dark, yin and yang, male and female–the themes of duality pervade the novel. At a sparse 139 pages, The Left Hand of Darkness is a quick read. Le Guin’s writing is lyrical and beautiful, and her universe is detailed and completely evolved. Within the structure of a riveting story, she tackles such issues as sexual perception and cultural chauvinism. It is the best kind of story: one that leaves you satisfied as you turn the last page, yet continues to haunt you long after.

Spoiler Inside: The Left Hand of Darkness , continued

Select Show

Genly Ai becomes the unwitting pawn in a power struggle between political factions, and is aided by the powerful and enigmatic Prime Minister, Estraven. When Estraven is exiled by his mad king and Genly Ai is sent to a concentration camp, it is Estraven who rescues him and together, in a desperate and near suicidal move, they attempt to cross the polar ice cap to what they hope is refuge. Thus begins what is one of the most searing and intense journeys in science fiction. They struggle against the brutal arctic conditions daily while each evening share the confines of their small tent, forcing them to face and reconcile their alien differences.

And I saw then again, and for good, what I had always been afraid to see, and had pretended not to see in him: that he was a woman as well as a man…He had been quite right to say that he, the only person on Gethen who trusted me, was the only Gethenian I distrusted. For he was the only one who had entirely accepted me as a human being: who had liked me personally and given me entire personal loyalty: and who therefore had demanded of me an equal degree of recognition, of acceptance. I had not been willing to give it. I had been afraid to give it. I had not wanted to give my trust, my friendship to a man who was a woman, a woman who was a man…But it was from the difference between us, not from the affinities and likenesses, but from the difference, that that love came: and it was itself the bridge, the only bridge, across what divided us. For us to meet sexually would be for us to meet once more as aliens. We had touched, in the only way we could touch.

The whole Gethenian society revolves around the duality of its inhabitants. Many will see in the kingdom of Karhide a distinctly Eastern influence, as much of the societal influences come from a mystic philosophy. This is in contrast to their enemy and opposition, Orgoreyn, which is a chilling bureaucracy. Light and dark, yin and yang, male and female–the themes of duality pervade the novel.

At a sparse 139 pages, The Left Hand of Darkness is a quick read. Le Guin’s writing is lyrical and beautiful, and her universe is detailed and completely evolved. Within the structure of a riveting story, she tackles such issues as sexual perception and cultural chauvinism. It is the best kind of story: one that leaves you satisfied as you turn the last page, yet continues to haunt you long after.

Interested in reviewing?

If you would like to share your love of literature or rediscover the classics, sign up today to court the classics and enjoy the foundations of Western literature with us! If there’s a classic you want to see reviewed, email us at fictionistawksp@gmail.com.

Courting the Classics: September Welcome

September 7, 2011 Courting the Classics, Our Programs Comments Off

By Autumn

Happy September!

The kids are back to school, the weather is cooling off (for you, too, I hope), and it’s a great time to settle down with a good book. This month, we’ll be taking a look a Banned Books.

As long as there has been literature, spoken or written, there have been those that have disapproved of the content (remember, Socrates was forced to drink hemlock because his oral lessons were deemed unsuitable for youth. We only know of him and his teachings because Plato was brave enough to preserve his thoughts in writing.). It’s axiomatic–writing is an intensely personal thing, and words and ideas are very powerful. Some think that the point of all written or spoken communication should be to elevate the mind at best, or to entertain at worst, but I’d disagree. Of course, these goals are lofty and desirable, but stories at their best many times have a higher calling.

The purpose of some stories is to reveal us to ourselves. To bring our societies and rites into sharp focus. As human beings, we are not perfect. Our societies are even less perfect, as people in groups are wont to do things that an individual would not consider doing on his or her own. The strongest literature we have brings the things we don’t particularly like, the things we’d rather keep hidden, into the open, where the purifying strength of light can be shone upon them. Societies have changed from the power of books like these… and inevitably they are banned somewhere, by someone who would like to pretend that the ugly in life doesn’t exist, or would like to be able to continue to believe that their own role in the big ugly isn’t so bad.

Spoiler Inside: September Welcome, continued	Select Show
Other stories are banned just because they reveal a side of individuals that’s not particularly pretty. Cursing… yep, we do that. Violence, petty crimes, infidelity, other sexual peccadillos… yep, we do those, too. The best of human beings is no saint (exceptions exist, but not many in the grander scheme of things), and good literature will acknowledge that. I love a quote from the author’s note from his latest novel, Full Dark, No Stars: “The writer must acknowledge that even a serial killer can help an old lady across the street” (paraphrased). The opposite is true as well: even the best character does “bad” things (or at least not so admirable things). As a reader and a deeply flawed human being, I prefer to appreciate these characters’ reality rather than wish they showed an inhuman human being. The last category of Banned Books fall under the umbrella of those banned for not being part of an individual or group’s political or religious agenda. Harry Potter banned because witchcraft is immoral? Never mind that it also shows loyalty and courage, and a strength of character that has made it a classic. Come on. So, read a banned book this month. Think about it. Think about why the author has written what is on the page you’re reading. Think about why those particular words were chosen, because I guarantee you that there was a reason. In the end, you may decide that the author was wrong, and that’s fine–there are many books that personally I find to be a waste of time and the paper on which they’re printed. But I count myself lucky that I am able to make that decision for myself. On another note, I’d like to extend a personal invitation for anyone reading to try their hand at reviewing for Courting the Classics. Our pool of reviewers has shrunk, so if you like this feature and would like to see it continue, we need YOU. If you’re interested, please contact me at whynot425@gmail.com, or tweet me at @Classicista. We at Fictionista Workshop want to send out our sympathy and best wishes to all those hit by natural disasters this summer.

Spoiler Inside: September Welcome, continued

Select Show

Other stories are banned just because they reveal a side of individuals that’s not particularly pretty. Cursing… yep, we do that. Violence, petty crimes, infidelity, other sexual peccadillos… yep, we do those, too. The best of human beings is no saint (exceptions exist, but not many in the grander scheme of things), and good literature will acknowledge that. I love a quote from the author’s note from his latest novel, Full Dark, No Stars: “The writer must acknowledge that even a serial killer can help an old lady across the street” (paraphrased). The opposite is true as well: even the best character does “bad” things (or at least not so admirable things). As a reader and a deeply flawed human being, I prefer to appreciate these characters’ reality rather than wish they showed an inhuman human being.

The last category of Banned Books fall under the umbrella of those banned for not being part of an individual or group’s political or religious agenda. Harry Potter banned because witchcraft is immoral? Never mind that it also shows loyalty and courage, and a strength of character that has made it a classic. Come on.

So, read a banned book this month. Think about it. Think about why the author has written what is on the page you’re reading. Think about why those particular words were chosen, because I guarantee you that there was a reason. In the end, you may decide that the author was wrong, and that’s fine–there are many books that personally I find to be a waste of time and the paper on which they’re printed. But I count myself lucky that I am able to make that decision for myself.

On another note, I’d like to extend a personal invitation for anyone reading to try their hand at reviewing for Courting the Classics. Our pool of reviewers has shrunk, so if you like this feature and would like to see it continue, we need YOU. If you’re interested, please contact me at whynot425@gmail.com, or tweet me at @Classicista.

We at Fictionista Workshop want to send out our sympathy and best wishes to all those hit by natural disasters this summer.