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dianaandthebookhunt's review against another edition
4.0
Sharp and witty, especially when I think about how much thought is put into it for the time when it was written. Even nowadays people don't connect 2 & 2 when seeing how much they are spending on useless habits (cigarettes) vs what they think they can't afford (books & travel etc.).
sloatsj's review against another edition
4.0
I never expected to read this, or really anything by Orwell beyond Animal Farm. But there I was at the bookstore and all the “Penguin Great Ideas” books looked so crisp and pithy that I picked out nine or ten, then forced myself down to six, then to five, then three, of which this was one. This little economics exercise turned out to be pretty relevant considering the topic of the eponymous essay “Books v. Cigarettes.”
I remember my father raving about what a great essay “Such, Such Were the Joys” was when I was younger, and me nodding along all the while saying “no more Orwell…” I don’t know why I suffered this slight aversion. It wasn’t as if Animal Farm wasn’t good.
Anyway, my father was right. “Such, Such Were the Joys” and “How the Poor Die” were the two outstanding essays of this little collection, with the latter being my favorite. This is because I love misery. Or reading about misery. Dank misery. Loveless misery. Misery of body, of mind and of heart. The essays about books and literature, which were for me the draw of the book, paled in comparison.
(If you want to read something terrific about how much something actually costs, go for Lydia Davis’s “Break It Down” in the book of the same name. Much better than “Books v. Cigarettes.” Very different, of course, but way more entertaining and less obvious.)
People admire Orwell mostly for his clean prose, and indeed that is enviable. Still, it doesn’t make you go “wow” at every turn; it works more subtly. For example, I realized how much the prose of another book I was reading simultaneously annoyed me. When I’d open “Books v. Cigarettes” it was like the doctor in the comedy sketch had come in and started the “Out with the bad air! In with the good air!” operation.
I admit to having a trouble identifying what exactly the “Great Idea” is in this book. But I don’t think you should let that bother you.
I remember my father raving about what a great essay “Such, Such Were the Joys” was when I was younger, and me nodding along all the while saying “no more Orwell…” I don’t know why I suffered this slight aversion. It wasn’t as if Animal Farm wasn’t good.
Anyway, my father was right. “Such, Such Were the Joys” and “How the Poor Die” were the two outstanding essays of this little collection, with the latter being my favorite. This is because I love misery. Or reading about misery. Dank misery. Loveless misery. Misery of body, of mind and of heart. The essays about books and literature, which were for me the draw of the book, paled in comparison.
(If you want to read something terrific about how much something actually costs, go for Lydia Davis’s “Break It Down” in the book of the same name. Much better than “Books v. Cigarettes.” Very different, of course, but way more entertaining and less obvious.)
People admire Orwell mostly for his clean prose, and indeed that is enviable. Still, it doesn’t make you go “wow” at every turn; it works more subtly. For example, I realized how much the prose of another book I was reading simultaneously annoyed me. When I’d open “Books v. Cigarettes” it was like the doctor in the comedy sketch had come in and started the “Out with the bad air! In with the good air!” operation.
I admit to having a trouble identifying what exactly the “Great Idea” is in this book. But I don’t think you should let that bother you.