Dispatch IV: 7 November 2004. Dystopias
Some weeks ago, preparing for my literature class, I realised that I hadn't read many of the great dystopian novels--Brave New World, for instance, or A Clockwork Orange. So I picked a Tuesday and read a handful; at the time the class was doing 1984, and I wanted something to compare it to aside from This Perfect Day or somesuch. So I read Brave New World and A Clockwork Orange as well as The Giver by Lois Lowry, and Prometheus Unbound by Ayn Rand, and I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream. Then last week I read Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood.
Today as I was finishing One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest I realised that it, too, really belongs in the dystopian pantheon. It's decently well-written (there are some noticeable errors--Kesey writes 'of' in place of 'have' in phrases like 'would have,' 'could have,' etc) and certainly engaging; I read most of it in one sitting. At any rate it portrays a rather dark world where people are tortured and confined for their own benefit, and it poses some questions about this. We are left, I think, sympathising with our protagonist and his compatriots, which of course may be somewhat problematic: they are, in the end, insane.
From the point of view of O'Brien, though, 1984's Winston Smith is also insane. He completely fails to realise what is truly important in this world, and he is dangerously opposed to the Orthodoxy, and the system. Wherefore he is brought in for treatment. It should be noted, of course, that this does cure him--Winston himself notes this. By all rights it might be a happy ending. Most people are inclined to read it somewhat differently, though.
It's nice when novels make you think. For all its compelling imagery and what have you, Handmaid's Tale doesn't leave you a whole lot of room to think. Many dystopian authors have agendas, which means that the range along which their books can be interpreted is fairly narrow. My professor claims that we can critique people like Winston Smith or Atwood's Offred for their indecisiveness and their complicity, but I find this somewhat unsatisfactory. They are nonetheless highly sympathetic characters and we are intended to view their struggles as just.
It's somewhat different in the Kesey novel. These people are in the institution for their own benefit, yes? They're there to be helped, right? Some of them are dangerous criminals, is this not so? Who's to blame the Combine for keeping them down? If they weren't, there'd be problems innumerable, no doubt. Blame we do though--nor do I think this is undesired. But at the very least it's easier to argue the other way than it is to take the side of Big Brother.
So. Read the book. Props to the genius who instructed me to read it. You know who you are--though, ironically enough, you don't know that I'm directing this at you, because you don't know about the Dispatches yet.
Yes.
Peace, yo.
-Alex
Today as I was finishing One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest I realised that it, too, really belongs in the dystopian pantheon. It's decently well-written (there are some noticeable errors--Kesey writes 'of' in place of 'have' in phrases like 'would have,' 'could have,' etc) and certainly engaging; I read most of it in one sitting. At any rate it portrays a rather dark world where people are tortured and confined for their own benefit, and it poses some questions about this. We are left, I think, sympathising with our protagonist and his compatriots, which of course may be somewhat problematic: they are, in the end, insane.
From the point of view of O'Brien, though, 1984's Winston Smith is also insane. He completely fails to realise what is truly important in this world, and he is dangerously opposed to the Orthodoxy, and the system. Wherefore he is brought in for treatment. It should be noted, of course, that this does cure him--Winston himself notes this. By all rights it might be a happy ending. Most people are inclined to read it somewhat differently, though.
It's nice when novels make you think. For all its compelling imagery and what have you, Handmaid's Tale doesn't leave you a whole lot of room to think. Many dystopian authors have agendas, which means that the range along which their books can be interpreted is fairly narrow. My professor claims that we can critique people like Winston Smith or Atwood's Offred for their indecisiveness and their complicity, but I find this somewhat unsatisfactory. They are nonetheless highly sympathetic characters and we are intended to view their struggles as just.
It's somewhat different in the Kesey novel. These people are in the institution for their own benefit, yes? They're there to be helped, right? Some of them are dangerous criminals, is this not so? Who's to blame the Combine for keeping them down? If they weren't, there'd be problems innumerable, no doubt. Blame we do though--nor do I think this is undesired. But at the very least it's easier to argue the other way than it is to take the side of Big Brother.
So. Read the book. Props to the genius who instructed me to read it. You know who you are--though, ironically enough, you don't know that I'm directing this at you, because you don't know about the Dispatches yet.
Yes.
Peace, yo.
-Alex
posted by Alex Osaki at 9:50 pm
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