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imjustadow 's review for:
Fahrenheit 451
by Ray Bradbury
i can't help but feel a bit like montag at times. i have access to more books, to be sure, but i also know just enough about the world to know that i know absolutely nothing about the world. that disconnect, that disorientation, seemingly described as near psychotic episodes for montag in the book, is something i have felt a lot recently as the world has gotten progressively more insane and 2020 has stretched on for two decades. i feel the primal instinct to escape, to run, to find a way to outlive the wreckage of the building as it crumbles down around you
this book isn't a plea to love books, to value them, to fight back against censorship; it's a plea to think for yourself, to do something that is *meaningful* to you. because fuck it. the world's already on fire anyway
this book isn't a plea to love books, to value them, to fight back against censorship; it's a plea to think for yourself, to do something that is *meaningful* to you. because fuck it. the world's already on fire anyway