“I still had four francs a day for drinks, and four francs was wealth.”
This book captivated me far more than 1984 or Animal Farm. I have never been partial to tell-not-show, in-your-face stories. Instead, I rely on compelling characters and relationships. In this book, I was shown that just a sprinkle of compelling characters and relationships was enough for me, for Orwell’s observational skills and relation of anecdotes kept me thoroughly captivated.
“I believe that this instinct to perpetuate useless work is, at bottom, simply fear of the mob.”
I have surprised myself with how much I enjoyed reading about poverty and homelessness from the perspective of a writer. Perhaps all my previous encounters with written poverty and homelessness have been tainted by a plot driven motive, and most impoverished or homeless writers do not write so directly about their own experiences. As a result, this tale, peculiar and directionless as it was, found its place in my heart as a unique, special story.
“If you set yourself to it, you can live the same life, rich or poor.”
On the way, we meet a few main characters: Boris and Paddy, namely. It’s fascinating to see how Orwell associates with them, sharing in his last pennies and food, despite the fact that they might be his last for days and that he may be better off without them. This generosity towards humanity shows the worth of Orwell’s values, along with his observations at the end of his bad luck in Paris and London. Though, to call it bad luck is a stretch. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t fault him for subjecting himself to these living conditions in order to procure more writing material, for I have no doubt he endured what he said he did, and I was all the more enriched as a result of it.
“‘One good turn deserves another - here y’are.’ And he put four sodden, debauched, loathly cigarette ends into my hand.”