I finished George Orwell’s 1984 yesterday evening. It was quite an enlightening read.
For those of you don’t know, it’s a dystopian novel showcasing a totalitarian regime in the superstate of Oceania that is perpetually at war with either of the two – Eastasia and Eurasia. The region and the lives of the people living there are bound by shackles of public manipulation and 24×7 government surveillance. It is very interesting considering the fact that a lot of the ideas and concepts – like Newsspeak, Thought Police, Doublethink, dwindling stance on war allies and enemies – have been taken from the life in Soviet Union during the second World War.
I personally like the structure of the novel a lot. It was different. There was no heroic ending. It was one of those few novels I’ve read that have a very human ending – the kind that stings you just enough but not too much because somewhere you’re already aware of it. It only portrays everything that is disheartening in the world in a more structured format.
But that’s pretty much it.
It wasn’t a great book. It was a good book. And I enjoyed reading it a lot. And I’d recommend it to you because it’s one of those books that must be read because of how different it is.
But what actually troubled me is the question that – where are the great books?
I can’t remember the last time I read a really really really good book. I’ve been reading but no book has given me that feeling of content.
A conversation with a friend sort of brought the issue to light and for a moment it made me feel better because at least I wasn’t the only one feeling it.
But that can’t be the end of it. I don’t want it to be.
I’m really looking forward to 2016 in terms of all the books I read. I hope I find something I can take home with me.
Till then, any suggestions?