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A review by mosalah314
Burmese Days by George Orwell
3.0
"There is no armour against fate."
Orwell praised Evelyn Waugh as a first-rate writer, but condemned him for his religious attitudes. I think I personally prefer Evelyn Waugh's religious sentiments to Orwell's insidious cynicism. Waugh's stories have a bit more soul, his optimism is neither naive nor dull. Orwell feels like drinking cough syrup; it's good for you, but tastes like shit. Both men are excellent authors whose stories are deeply embedded with a sense of fate, but I much prefer Waugh's version of fate to Orwell's. Being in an Orwell novel would truly be a nightmare, everyone just seems to eat shit and die.
Overall, this was a rather boring book. Burmese Days is a lot less daring than 1984. Orwell doesn't exactly pull his punches, but the scope of the book is underwhelming. The suicide at the end ties it together perfectly, but the build-up felt dreary, tired, and quite pedantic at times.
Orwell paints a crisp, lucid, and vital picture of imperialism, racism, and moral bankruptcy. He paints a little portrait of hell, that the British expertly established for themselves in Burma. The characters are developed well, especially the protagonist Flory, but with the exception of the doctor there isn't a single likeable character in the book.
The prose is obviously robust, polished and effective, but nonetheless Orwell's descriptions of Burma were not overly entertaining or inspiring for me. I laughed a few times, but less than I expected. It felt like this book could have been 100pgs shorter. This reminded me a bit of Camus, if Camus was severely interested in politics and a lot more British.
Not a book I'd reccomended, really, but also not a waste of time. I feel a bit more jaded having read this book. There were a few moments of deeply moving psychological exposition which is why I love Orwell, and what I expected more of to be honest. Orwell has a profound insight into the human psyche, he understands the tortured kind of darkness and disgusting sort of egotism which moves people to participate in the more banal forms of evil. The banality of evil is one thing this book captures expertly.
I'd rate this 3.5 stars, but I've given Orwell the benefit of the doubt and rated this 4 stars. An excellent writer, who apparently decided that this particular story needed to be boring for some reason. The last 5 pages hit pretty hard, but I don't know if 295 pages of build-up really justified the impact.
Orwell praised Evelyn Waugh as a first-rate writer, but condemned him for his religious attitudes. I think I personally prefer Evelyn Waugh's religious sentiments to Orwell's insidious cynicism. Waugh's stories have a bit more soul, his optimism is neither naive nor dull. Orwell feels like drinking cough syrup; it's good for you, but tastes like shit. Both men are excellent authors whose stories are deeply embedded with a sense of fate, but I much prefer Waugh's version of fate to Orwell's. Being in an Orwell novel would truly be a nightmare, everyone just seems to eat shit and die.
Overall, this was a rather boring book. Burmese Days is a lot less daring than 1984. Orwell doesn't exactly pull his punches, but the scope of the book is underwhelming. The suicide at the end ties it together perfectly, but the build-up felt dreary, tired, and quite pedantic at times.
Orwell paints a crisp, lucid, and vital picture of imperialism, racism, and moral bankruptcy. He paints a little portrait of hell, that the British expertly established for themselves in Burma. The characters are developed well, especially the protagonist Flory, but with the exception of the doctor there isn't a single likeable character in the book.
The prose is obviously robust, polished and effective, but nonetheless Orwell's descriptions of Burma were not overly entertaining or inspiring for me. I laughed a few times, but less than I expected. It felt like this book could have been 100pgs shorter. This reminded me a bit of Camus, if Camus was severely interested in politics and a lot more British.
Not a book I'd reccomended, really, but also not a waste of time. I feel a bit more jaded having read this book. There were a few moments of deeply moving psychological exposition which is why I love Orwell, and what I expected more of to be honest. Orwell has a profound insight into the human psyche, he understands the tortured kind of darkness and disgusting sort of egotism which moves people to participate in the more banal forms of evil. The banality of evil is one thing this book captures expertly.
I'd rate this 3.5 stars, but I've given Orwell the benefit of the doubt and rated this 4 stars. An excellent writer, who apparently decided that this particular story needed to be boring for some reason. The last 5 pages hit pretty hard, but I don't know if 295 pages of build-up really justified the impact.