Caleb calls it satire, a piece of dry reportage on the subject of animal farming lensed by its social implications, saying the key to elucidating its humour is in the specifics of its objectivity. I wonder aloud whether it’s alright to make light and Caleb clucks his tongue. ‘Light,’ he says, again, ‘is defined by its darkness and deceptively perceptual.’ Orwell, apparently, was alight. ‘The spirit of the times boiled inside that man before he splashed them on the page.’ I really wish I cared but I’m too engaged by all the animals to monitor his thoughts right now.
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.
05/03/2014 at 03:39
What about 1Q84?
05/03/2014 at 23:05
Tell me more…it’s the one Murakami I haven’t read yet.
05/03/2014 at 23:59
I’ve heard it’s supposed to be his 1984. I’ve only read the first few chapters. I typically dislike reading about writers or writing in fiction.
06/03/2014 at 00:05
I understand, sometimes it can feel a little too proud of itself, like ‘look at how clever and well read I am.’