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In a world where George Orwell died in Spain, thus depriving the world of works like Animal Farm, Homage to Catalonia, and Nineteen Eighty-Four, Britain, or Tucland (from Trades Union Congress) as it is known in 1985, languishes under the doleful lash of syndicalist trade unionism. Having padded his book with 102 pages of essay, Burgess launches into the novella portion of his work. Some passages are vaguely interesting if you don’t know much about Orwell’s works (in which case you’d be better off reading Orwell himself) other passages illuminate the darker corners of Burgess’s mind.
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The book (published in 1978) begins with a series of essays about George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty Four. So, have a review! A review resentful that I read this crap at all. That might relieve my feelings, but it would not be amusing or instructive to read. That would be a suitable riposte to a book that consists of a book’s worth of an elderly 1 conservative moaning on about how the trade unions, women’s lib, gay homosexuals 2, and Those Darn Kids ruin everything, leaving poor Britain supine before the virile might of the Islamic world. What this book deserves is 1111 words of me screaming incoherently. Today’s review features a book that should be more obscure than it is, Anthony Burgess’s 1985, a thematic sequel of sorts to Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. Yesterday I complained about a novel that was more obscure than it merited.