The Books: Arguably, ‘On Animal Farm’, by Christopher Hitchens

Arguably Hitchens

On the essays shelf:

Arguably: Essays by Christopher Hitchens

Christopher Hitchens wrote an entire book on Orwell called Why Orwell Matters (it’s great, no surprise). His mentions of Orwell in print probably run into the hundreds of thousands. And not just the books, the novels and war reportage books, but all of the essays as well. I imagine if you are not familiar with Orwell, or if you only know Animal Farm and 1984, some of Hitchens’ commentary would be too complex, too shorthand-ish, to ever understand. Orwell died pretty young, and he wrote like he knew he wouldn’t be here long. His essays are high watermarks of the form, both personal (shooting the elephant, boarding school days) and political, sometimes at the same time. He has written some political essays that are so masterful they have yet to be matched. He is one of those figures that come along rarely, a figure who can see above and beyond his own time. What is incredible about him is that he was also fully immersed in his own time. He didn’t sit in a tower, observing from afar. He fought in the Spanish Civil War. He was, how you say, highly involved. But that’s the case with other similar figures – Arthur Koestler, Rebecca West.

The following essay by Hitchens was an introduction written for a new edition of Animal Farm.

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The essay is broken up into three parts. One is the “Historical Background” of the novel, the “fairy story,” as Orwell termed it. It’s a damn near perfect allegory of the Russian Revolution, and yet it remains broad enough that it speaks to other revolutions, other oppressed peoples, it speaks to the totalitarian mindset in general. But for students of the Russian Revolution, it’s amazingly accurate (although, as Hitchens points out, there is no “Lenin pig.” Fascinating.) Also, you just have to consider the fact that Animal Farm was written at a time when the news coming out of Russia was not just unreliable, but flat-out inaccurate. You had to sift through the record looking for the real truth, you had to read the samizdat literature, which started coming out almost immediately. And Orwell, working with that defect, still understood all. The second part of the essay is the “Story of Publication.” Publishers did not want to touch the manuscript, sometimes because they understood the allegory and were frightened to put their name on such a thing (not to mention the fact that Russia was an ally of Great Britain at that time), and sometimes because they didn’t understand the allegory at all and were like, “Talking animals? We’re not interested in children’s books.” It also was sometimes rejected because certain editors who received the manuscript thought Stalin was a good guy, Communism was awesome, and they wouldn’t put into print such inflammatory stuff that hurt their cause.

You know. Your basic charlatans.

Finally, a small publisher was brave enough to put out a tiny edition. Orwell was paid forty-five pounds. The book, to put it mildly, did not make a splash.

Until …

And that’ll be the excerpt I post today. How the book was “discovered.”

The final section of Hitchens’ beautiful essay has to do with the “afterlife” of Animal Farm, and how it continues to be a revelation to those who live in dictatorships. There’s a reason the book is banned in Iran. It’s never been published in China, Burma, or North Korea. (Hitchens relates a quote from a citizen of Burma: “George Orwell wrote three books about our country: Burmese Days, Animal Farm and Nineteen Eighty-Four.“)

But here is Hitchens on what happened after Animal Farm was published.

Arguably: Essays by Christopher Hitchens, ‘On Animal Farm‘, by Christopher Hitchens

It is thinkable that the story could have ended in this damp-squib way, but two later developments were to give the novel its place in history. A group of Ukrainian and Polish socialists, living in refugee camps in post-war Europe, discovered a copy of the book in English and found it to be a near-perfect allegory of their own recent experience. Their self-taught English-speaking leader and translator, Ihor Ševčenko, found an address for Orwell and wrote to him asking permission to translate Animal Farm into Ukrainian. He told him that many of Stalin’s victims nonetheless still considered themselves to be socialists, and did not trust an intellectual of the Right to voice their feelings. “They were profoundly affected by such scenes as that of animals singing ‘Beasts of England’ on the hill … They very vividly reacted to the ‘absolute’ values of the book.” Orwell agreed to grand publication rights for free (he did this for subsequent editions in several other Eastern European languages) and to contribute the preface from which I quoted earlier. It is affecting to imagine battle-hardened ex-soldiers and prisoners of war, having survived all the privations of the Eastern Front, becoming stirred by the image of British farm animals singing their own version of the discarded “Internationale,” but this was an early instance of the hold the book was to take on its readership. The emotions of the American military authorities in Europe were not so easily touched: They rounded up all the copies of Animal Farm that they could find and turned them over to the Red Army to be burned. The alliance between the farmers and the pigs, so hauntingly described in the final pages of the novel, was still in force.

But in the part-acrimonious closing scene, usually best-remembered for the way in which men and pigs have become indistinguishable, Orwell predicted, as on other occasions, that the ostensible friendship between East and West would not long outlast the defeat of Nazism. The Cold War, a phrase that Orwell himself was the first to use in print*, soon created a very different ideological atmosphere This in turn conditioned the reception of Animal Farm in the United States. At first rejected at Random House by the Communist sympathizer Angus Cameron (who had been sent the book by Arthur Schlesinger Jr.) and then by a succession of lesser publishers, it was rescued from oblivion by Frank Morley of Harcourt, Brace, who while visiting England had been impressed by a chance encounter with the novel in a bookshop in Cambridge. Publication was attended by two strokes of good fortune: Edmund Wilson wrote a highly favorable review for the New Yorker comparing Orwell’s satirical talent to the work of Swift and Voltaire, and the Book-of-the-Month Club made it a main selection, which led to a printing of almost half a million copies. The stupidity of The Dial Press notwithstanding, the Walt Disney company came up with a proposal for the film version. This was never made, though the CIA did later produce and distribute an Animal Farm cartoon for propaganda purposes. By the time Orwell died in January 1950, having just succeeded in finishing Nineteen Eighty-four, he had at last achieved an international reputation and was having to issue repeated disclaimers of the use made of his work by the American right-wing.

* In an especially acute feuilleton entitled “You and the Atomic Bomb” in Tribune in October 1945.

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Bloomsday 2014

Emcee Colum McCann kept things running smoothly, no small feat with the amount of readers participating, Guinness in hand.

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Larry Kirwan, of Black 47, who’s been to every Bloomsday celebration at this venue since its inception (and I was at the first one as well!). Kirwan always reads the Gertie passage. It’s a hoot. He said, by way of introduction, “I am the world’s foremost male interpreter of Gertie.”

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The table where Therese and I sat, my book on the right, hers on the left. She is my Bloomsday buddy! We’ve gone to this event, we think, three times now? Four?

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I did not catch this man’s name but he brought down the house. Or, the alley. He recited – nay, acted the shit out of – the Citizen’s confrontation with Leopold Bloom – from memory. And he didn’t just recite. He became all of these different characters, and you could really feel how that interaction escalated into something vicious and ugly in a flash. At one point, he, as the Citizen, was chanting over and over, “SINN FEIN SINN FEIN SINN FEIN”, followed by some more bellowing about “ISRAEL” and Therese and I cracked up at what that must have sounded like a couple blocks away to people who didn’t know what was going on. Some rabid political rally. He got a standing ovation. It was extraordinary.

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A song.

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Where we were. And at the bar at the far end of the alley was a group of people, a crowd, watching the World Cup and occasionally ROARING into sound. It was exciting, a great counterpoint.

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Even the trashcans are nerdy.

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Had a wonderful time with Therese, got to read a bit from the Scylla and Charybdis section, had a blast listening to the other readers and singers, and met some new nice people, in particular Jonathan and Satish. There was a funny moment between the four of us having to do with the infamous big “dot” in Ulysses, and Therese and I have different versions of the book, mine with the nice big dot, and hers with the dot too small. Satish had looked at both of our books and pointed at mine, “I like that one because the dot is big.” Only Ulysses fans would even know what he was talking about. I flipped to the page to find the dot. Satish gestured at Therese’s copy – “I had that copy but I didn’t like it because the dot was too small.”

We all nodded, agreeing. Then, the best button of the moment was Therese opening her copy to the “dot” page to show how she had made the dot larger herself, coloring it in to a bigger size. I’m still laughing/crying about the beauty of the moment: it was one of those moments where you feel, you know, that you can totally be yourself. Nobody was like, “You people are insane” or “Get a life” or “Who cares what size the dot is?” or “What’s Bloomsday?”

These may be people I hadn’t met before, but they are people I know. You see the same faces year to year. You say, “Hi, how’ve you been!” It’s relaxed, it’s humorous, it’s occasionally quite moving. It’s one of my favorite days in New York. I also attended the Symphony Space celebration one year, an all-day event, and it was very interesting but a little bit more formal, and I did tell Jonathan that by the time Fionnula Flanagan took the stage at 1 in the morning to start Molly Bloom, I felt like I had been “waterboarded all day.” I prefer the one at the Ulysses bar down in the financial district, sitting at picnic tables in an alley, food, drink, a microphone, lots of people singing, lots of talkback, a great warm crazy little community. I’ve been going for 10 years now. It’s wonderful.

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Happy Bloomsday From Your Hostess-Pirate

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At any Bloomsday celebration, you will see yahoos wearing eye patches, in solidarity with the blind Stephen Dedalus in Ulysses, as well as with its mostly-blind creator, the great James Joyce. I own an eyepatch, because I am a douchebag.

It represents the “ineluctable modality of the visible.”

Ulysses is, as with most things Irish, tied up with my father, and I first read the book under his guidance, calling him up randomly: “Now, WHAT is going on here?” He always knew.

My big Bloomsday post is here.

I love today.

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Ulysses Full House

“The pity is that the public will demand and find a moral in my book, or worse they may take it in some serious way, and on the honour of a gentleman, there is not one single serious word in it.” – James Joyce

My deck of Ulysses playing cards.

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Supernatural: Season 1, Episode 21: “Salvation”

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Directed by Robert Singer
Written by Sera Gamble & Raelle Tucker

Robert Singer has said openly that he is a character-guy, not a plot-guy. He was brought on early on as an executive producer, to not only help Eric Kripke make the show a success, but to also bring his expertise to bear. If Kripke had his way, it would be all-gore all-badass all the time, and he has admitted that. He joked that he couldn’t believe his name was on anything as “classy” as the “Faith” episode, but he was very very proud of it, that the story he thought up would lend itself to such a mood. Singer is drawn to the characters and relationships. He feels the plot will work itself out, but his primary focus is the relationships (and you can hear it in his commentary tracks. He points out tiny acting moments, things he can’t take credit for, but loves: “God, look at how he does that …” “Look at this moment coming up …”)

Robert Singer is my kind of guy, in other words.

Salvation is a place in Iowa but here it enters the show on not only an existential level but a spiritual one. Pastor Jim has been mentioned a couple of times, as a friend of John’s, and someone who would take care of the boys on occasion when they were young. It’s interesting to consider Sam and Dean in a religious environment. The show handles matters of faith somewhat delicately, which is funny because they pretty much lampoon religion wholesale, turning angels into bureaucratic dicks and God into a deadbeat Dad, for example. But in terms of whether or not to believe, the show doesn’t come down on either side. Arguments are made in favor of both. And the brothers get into it a bit in Season 2, a fascinating precursor of what is to come. “Faith” was the first gauntlet thrown down. A statement of purpose: We will feel free to go HERE, just so you know.

“Salvation” isn’t the abyss of “Dead Man’s Blood,” although it does have its disorienting moments, as is usually the case when all three Winchester men are in a scene at the same time. The season is racing to its conclusion now, so “Salvation” is where things start to wrap up. Meg re-enters and we know she’s always big bad news.

The mood of the episode is gloomy and grey. “Dead Man’s Blood” was dark and shadowy; “Salvation” on the other hand is heavy, looming, low grey skies, with constant rain. You can see the rain dripping on their jackets, their hair, in the puddles around them. The wet-ness has a double function. It makes the world look unwelcoming, that’s for sure, but it also works thematically. “Salvation was created for sinners,” says Pastor Jim in the teaser. Baptism is obviously one ritual connected to salvation, and so the wet-ness throughout makes the entire episode feel like it’s a baptismal font overflowing. I mean, holy water is basically poured out through the pipes at one point. So the Winchester brothers, trying to understand what the demon wants (although John already knows), are entering a world of religious symbolism and iconography that threatens to drown the world in a flood. As the series continues, the brothers worry about their souls, for good reason. Souls are left behind. Souls can have a life of their own. Souls can be damaged irrevocably. Water is life-giving, essential. It can also be destructive. It has strong symbolic properties.

The Arc of the episode is simple (unlike “Dead Man’s Blood” which leads you into a Hall of Mirrors). There’s a lot of plot here. The Colt. Meg. The demon. Sam. Sam’s visions.

But the real interest is in the relationships. You can feel it in how Singer films those relationship scenes. He presents them with loving detail.

Only one episode to go in Season 1. I can’t believe it.

Continue reading

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Dad and Me

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My Version of “Beach Read”

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Super-relaxing.

YIKES. These maps STRESS ME OUT. The converging arrows! There are so many maps in this book (Catastrophe 1914: Europe Goes to War).

Even scarier, I understand them.

No, but seriously. I can’t put it down. I wrote on Facebook:

“I’m reading a book that breaks down every battle in 1914 in WWI in exhaustive detail. Who did what, whose flank was exposed, which regiment hid in the bushes, the horses, the messengers, the telephone lines, the movement through Belgium, the tactical strategies, the frantic disorganized withdrawals. I’m 300 pages into the book and we’re only in August 1914, so that’s the level of detail. I’m at the point where I feel like I could successfully command an Army. I fell asleep last night with the book open beside me, showing the collision of France/Britain/Germany in the battle in Mons. I felt like I knew every canal and every bridge and was thinking scornfully to myself, ‘Y’all might want to destroy those bridges, not just guard them…. I don’t know. Just an idea.’ I try to live up to my nickname Special Ops. But I woke up this morning and the first thing I saw was some scary war-map from 1914. I need a vacation.”

My nerd-goal is to complete the book by June 28, 2014, the 100-year anniversary of the assassination MacGuffin that started it all.

Here’s the book.

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Review: Hellion (2014)

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Painful. Heartbreaking. Aaron Paul stars as the floundering widowed dad of two young boys. Juliette Lewis plays a worried aunt. The two child actors are incredible, but particularly Josh Wiggins, the lead. He’s got a heavy burden with the role, a lot to do, a lot of complexity. He is amazing. Tough stuff, Hellion. It started as a short, and was developed with the help of the Sundance Film Institute. Kat Candler wrote/directed. Highly recommended.

My review of Hellion is up at Rogerebert.com.

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Review: A Coffee in Berlin (2014)

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A Coffee in Berlin, a German film, directed by Jan Ole Gerster (his first feature) swept many of the major awards at the 2013 German Film Awards. I am not sure what kind of release it will be getting in the US. Probably pretty limited. But God, I loved it. It’s funny in a way that hits that sweet spot for me. I guffawed throughout. Uproarious, but in a subtle very strange way.

If you can, seek it out.

My review of A Coffee in Berlin is up at Rogerebert.com.

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R.I.P. Ruby Dee

I was waiting for this, and here it is. My good pal Odie Henderson, and fellow Rogerebert.com contributor, who helped moderate the QA with Spike Lee at Ebertfest following the screening of Do the Right Thing (in which, of course, Ruby Dee appeared) has written a gorgeous and detailed tribute to Ruby Dee. The last paragraph made me cry.

Don’t miss it.

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