Wednesday, December 8, 2021

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury -- a review by Elleanore G. Vance

 



Guy Montag is a fireman. No, not that kind of fireman, a Salamander fireman. He sets the fires. Hes not just burning books, but setting entire houses alight with kerosene. The reason for the legal arson; the crime? Owning books. 


Then a new family moves in and their niece begins to accompany Montag part of the way to work. They talk and Guy begins to question his entire life and his livelihood. 


His wife's most recent suicide attempt has him worried, but she is in denial that anything at all has happened. Suicide seems to be a well acknowledged issue in this society as some white-coveralled, cigarette-smoking men show up to transfuse your blood and pump your stomach. All very routine and boring. I honestly suspect that a healthy dose of anitdepressants is given with the new blood, given how we see Mrs. Montag develop over the last two acts. 


In the first act, Guy awakens to his world, and in the second his wheels begin to spin. In the third, he secures his escape from the oppressive community of idiotic dullards. 


Throughout, Montag has the conviction of a religious convert, complete with a sanctimonious holier-than-thou attitude. His mind seems fractured, similar to some trauma victims, as he struggles to recall basic life events, like meeting his wife.  His whole life seems to have been a blur, but what do you expect when you zip along at 150 mph? 


Bradbury may have been groundbreaking in his day, and he is eloquent... But he is also preachy. The entire third act is little more than a sermon. 


I hadn't read this since a binge i pulled in college,  which included 1984 (Orwell) and Anthem (Rand).  I think my mind blended them all together,  because events I anticipated never happened in this text. 


Reading this book felt like reading the rabbi's Yom Kippur sermon: repetitive. I was less than impressed 


⭐⭐2/5

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