Book 8 - Ray Bradbury "Fahrenheit 451"

Just finished reading this classic SF novel, which became a really good film version directed by Francois Truffaut


Ray Bradbury writes in his introduction that it took him just nine days to complete this book in the basement of the U.C.L.A. library, on a rented typewriter. "Fahrenheit 451" was first published in 1953 as featured in Hugh Hefner’s "Playboy" magazine after being rejected by every book publisher Bradbury approached. It later became a best selling novel and now carries the reputation of being a classic.

"Fahrenheit 451" is a futuristic dystopia novel. In some unnamed city during an undisclosed time, life as we know it no longer exists. The government uses mind control to insure everyone is always in a happy peaceful frame of mind. Guy Montag is a fireman, though his job is not to put out fires. Like every other fireman in the country, his job is to start fires. Reading is prohibited and every time a citizen is suspected of concealing books, the fire alarm blares and the firemen rush to the site and burn the house down. The resident family is then imprisoned. Bradbury originally titled the book "The Fireman" but changed the title to "Fahrenheit 451" because that is the temperature at which paper catches fire.

The opening line of the book is “It was a pleasure to burn.” Guy loves his job, and while he is busy putting out fires every day, his wife Mildred is at home, pacified by government provided entertainment. The government brainwashing tactics are clever and the futuristic life style Bradbury imagines is astonishingly intuitive considering home computers did not become available until the 1970’s and the idea of virtual reality was generally unheard of until much later. Entire walls in the Montag house were constructed of computerized screens where Mildred interacted with televised characters. And when she wasn’t tuned in to her “computer family” she wore a headset that provided background music to prevent her from thinking. Thinking was considered to be a very dangerous pastime.

Everything was going just fine until Guy has a chance encounter with a very unusual little girl who has some strange ideas. As a result, Guy begins having an occasional thought or two of his own.

This is a very entertaining book, that simply ended too soon. A sweet 158 page novel with a story that may not be far-fetched from the life our planet’s increasing population and simultaneous shrinking resources could lead us to in the future.

The Faversham To Rye Transition

Whilst cousin is borrowing the dongle to vent his vituperative vitriol against the Brit Awards this evening, I am upstairs away from it all, composing this blog entry, and making sure my ears are not contaminated by the aforementioned television programme.

Having said that, I would like to see Adele and P J Harvey get something out of it, but then I am thinking, well do we need these self congratulatory awards, especially when Joe Public have a say in it, which lowers the tone to the de facto lowest common denominator. Hence , crap like No Direction.

This is where the annual Wire magazine top fifty is much more circumspect, critically aware, and right on the musical button.

This morning I took another journey around this glorious part of England. However my usual ten o'clock bus did not arrive as the bus was in an accident with a car, as I ascertained from another driver. Finally, when I arrived in Faversham, I put a two quid bet on the Napoli v. Chelsea game. (Yet again lost the bet as the Italians trounced Chelsea 3 -1).

Then from there via Ashford , and the rail replacement bus to the lovely cinque port town of Rye, just tucked inside East |Sussex. The famous Grammar School Records record shop is still going trading in secondhand vinyl, CD's and DVD's, but I did not have time to peruse their wares as I had a charity shop visit.

I picked up five books from the Sue Ryder charity shop, of which four of them were crime novels, including a Peter James “Roy Grace” novel (“Dead Man's Footsteps”). The other paperback was a poetry book , John Wilkinson “Effigies Against The Light” (Salt Publishing), and after purchasing them, I found a cut out article reviewing this collection of poetry from the Guardian (dated 19/10/2002) stuffed in the back page of this book.

I did one more visit in Ashford on the way back, and caught the last bus back to Teynham.