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tessamoose's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.25
mattjamesod's review against another edition
dark
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
_eleanorblackman1's review against another edition
dark
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
renart's review against another edition
challenging
informative
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.75
willywoolley's review against another edition
adventurous
emotional
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
worldlibraries's review against another edition
5.0
I started this book, by chance, immediately after #HarryandMeghanonNetflix aired. Upon reading the first thirty pages, I felt like I had never left the vitriol directed at the couple via social media. The British people in the book sounded as mean and hate-filled as the British people condemning Harry and Meghan! And the premise of the book also matched the premise of Harry and Meghan’s drama! Should a Black member be allowed to join the Club [it would be called ‘the Firm’ in H& M’s case]? Has any progress been made in the ensuing 90 years? It seems not! This book is a damning portrait of white ‘civilization.’
It’s astonishing this was George Orwell’s debut novel. His talent was extraordinary, especially his talent for seeing people or characters in a full 360-degree portrait of scheming machinations, moral frailty, and awe-inspiring physical detail. The experience of a policeman, of seeing people at their worst, was put to good use here; the mystery is that Orwell was so beset by shame and disgust at his role in oppressing people he saw as worthy, cultured human beings. This does not fit the present-day stereotype of a policeman. How was he so reflective and able to see his culture as an outsider?
How little it seemed to take to maintain the British Empire! It seemed white people did little more than drink, whore, and feel superior. The portraits of natives were equally fascinating. Dr. Veraswami had a slave mentality, and U Po Kyiv’s ending was particularly satisfying.
Should a student from Myanmar read this book? I thought it should be, of course, di rigueur. Now I think the opposite after reading it. I think it would be traumatizing. Yes, it’s white society that shows itself so poorly, but if there was even a chance that any of the things said about Burmese people in this book could be taken in and internalized, what an utter shame that would be. We know that happens too. I would be very interested in hearing a Black educator's opinion on the matter.
Reading this book has made me want to read the entire Orwell oeuvre, plus other titles that speak of colonialism’s crimes.
Here are two snippets of text from Burmese Days that stopped me cold:
"It is one of the tragedies of the half-educated that they develop late, when they are already committed to some wrong way of life".
From Chapter 5: ''It is a stifling, stultifying world in which to live. It is a world in which every word and every thought is censored. In England it is hard even to imagine such an atmosphere. Everyone is free in England; we sell our souls in public and buy them back in private, among our friends. But even friendship can hardly exist when every white man is a cog in the wheels of despotism. Free speech is unthinkable. All other kinds of freedom are permitted. You are free to be a drunkard, an idler, a coward, a backbiter, a fornicator; but you are not free to think for yourself. Your opinion on every subject of any conceivable importance is dictated for you by the pukka sahib™ code.
In the end the secrecy of your revolt poisons you like a secret disease. Your whole life is a life of lies. Year after year you sit in Kipling-haunted little Clubs, whisky to right of you, Pinkâ™un to left of you, listening and eagerly agreeing while Colonel Bodger develops his theory that these bloody Nationalists should be boiled in oil. You hear your Oriental friends called â˜greasy little babusâ™, and you admit, dutifully, that they are greasy little babus. You see louts fresh from school kicking grey-haired servants. The time comes when you burn with hatred of your own countrymen, when you long for a native rising to drown their Empire in blood. And in this there is nothing honourable, hardly even any sincerity. For, au fond, what do you care if the Indian Empire is a despotism, if Indians are bullied and exploited? You only care because the right of free speech is denied you. You are a creature of the despotism, a pukka sahib, tied tighter than a monk or a savage by an unbreakable system of tabus.
Time passed and each year Flory found himself less at home in the world of the sahibs, more liable to get into trouble when he talked seriously on any subject whatever. So he had learned to live inwardly, secretly, in books and secret thoughts that could not be uttered. Even his talks with the doctor were a kind of talking to himself; for the doctor, good man, understood little of what was said to him. But it is a corrupting thing to live one's real life in secret. One should live with the stream of life, not against it. It would be better to be the thickest-skulled pukka sahib who ever hiccupped over a ''Forty years on,'' than to live silent, alone, consoling oneself in secret, sterile worlds...
It’s astonishing this was George Orwell’s debut novel. His talent was extraordinary, especially his talent for seeing people or characters in a full 360-degree portrait of scheming machinations, moral frailty, and awe-inspiring physical detail. The experience of a policeman, of seeing people at their worst, was put to good use here; the mystery is that Orwell was so beset by shame and disgust at his role in oppressing people he saw as worthy, cultured human beings. This does not fit the present-day stereotype of a policeman. How was he so reflective and able to see his culture as an outsider?
How little it seemed to take to maintain the British Empire! It seemed white people did little more than drink, whore, and feel superior. The portraits of natives were equally fascinating. Dr. Veraswami had a slave mentality, and U Po Kyiv’s ending was particularly satisfying.
Should a student from Myanmar read this book? I thought it should be, of course, di rigueur. Now I think the opposite after reading it. I think it would be traumatizing. Yes, it’s white society that shows itself so poorly, but if there was even a chance that any of the things said about Burmese people in this book could be taken in and internalized, what an utter shame that would be. We know that happens too. I would be very interested in hearing a Black educator's opinion on the matter.
Reading this book has made me want to read the entire Orwell oeuvre, plus other titles that speak of colonialism’s crimes.
Here are two snippets of text from Burmese Days that stopped me cold:
"It is one of the tragedies of the half-educated that they develop late, when they are already committed to some wrong way of life".
From Chapter 5: ''It is a stifling, stultifying world in which to live. It is a world in which every word and every thought is censored. In England it is hard even to imagine such an atmosphere. Everyone is free in England; we sell our souls in public and buy them back in private, among our friends. But even friendship can hardly exist when every white man is a cog in the wheels of despotism. Free speech is unthinkable. All other kinds of freedom are permitted. You are free to be a drunkard, an idler, a coward, a backbiter, a fornicator; but you are not free to think for yourself. Your opinion on every subject of any conceivable importance is dictated for you by the pukka sahib™ code.
In the end the secrecy of your revolt poisons you like a secret disease. Your whole life is a life of lies. Year after year you sit in Kipling-haunted little Clubs, whisky to right of you, Pinkâ™un to left of you, listening and eagerly agreeing while Colonel Bodger develops his theory that these bloody Nationalists should be boiled in oil. You hear your Oriental friends called â˜greasy little babusâ™, and you admit, dutifully, that they are greasy little babus. You see louts fresh from school kicking grey-haired servants. The time comes when you burn with hatred of your own countrymen, when you long for a native rising to drown their Empire in blood. And in this there is nothing honourable, hardly even any sincerity. For, au fond, what do you care if the Indian Empire is a despotism, if Indians are bullied and exploited? You only care because the right of free speech is denied you. You are a creature of the despotism, a pukka sahib, tied tighter than a monk or a savage by an unbreakable system of tabus.
Time passed and each year Flory found himself less at home in the world of the sahibs, more liable to get into trouble when he talked seriously on any subject whatever. So he had learned to live inwardly, secretly, in books and secret thoughts that could not be uttered. Even his talks with the doctor were a kind of talking to himself; for the doctor, good man, understood little of what was said to him. But it is a corrupting thing to live one's real life in secret. One should live with the stream of life, not against it. It would be better to be the thickest-skulled pukka sahib who ever hiccupped over a ''Forty years on,'' than to live silent, alone, consoling oneself in secret, sterile worlds...
geirertzgaard's review
4.0
Av mange regnet som Orwells dårligste bok. For meg den boken som gjorde mest inntrykk og som fugerte mest som en trigger til reiselyst og nysgjerighet. Leste den for mange år siden, så vurderingen foregår nok i minnenes rosenrøde skjær.
illymally's review against another edition
4.0
I would not have gotten very far in this book if the author's name were not so familiar. The portrait of imperialism is damning, to be sure, but the narrative voice is ambiguous enough at times as to make one unsure how deep the horrifying racism goes. It is clear that not one moment of sympathy should be offered to the degenerate collection of Europeans. If it weren't so terrible and true, it would be hilarious how pathetic they all are. Unfortunately, corruption decays everything it touches. Ultimately, this is a powerful vignette of the destruction imperialism and racism bring to all involved.
luciatoma's review against another edition
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0