The Saint Hubert Press

No matter where you go, you are never alone. He sees your every action, hears your every word, and knows your every thought. His likeness is plastered in all places: on coins, on stamps, and on everything else that belongs to him. Everything belongs to him. The only property you own is the few cubic centimeters inside your skull. There is no running from him, and nothing you can do about it. Big Brother is watching you.

Winston Smith is no different from any other Party member. He works sixty hours a week in the Ministry of Truth, under constant supervision of Big Brother. The telescreens, or two-way televisions, were in all places, capturing all that you said and did. Never did you know for certain that you were being watched at the moment, but there is always the possibility. The people of the time now instinctively showed no facial expressions, nor did they ever talk to themselves. Doing this might imply you were against the Party, an act punishable by death. One wrong move, one wrong expression, could set the Thought Police on your track. You are then basically done for, vaporized. All records of your existence destroyed. You never existed.

At least thirty of Winston’s acquaintances have been vaporized. Some were publicly hanged, others killed by the Thought Police, others simply never heard of again. Nothing could prove that they ever existed. Once vaporized, all references to a person were tracked down and “updated.” They then did not ever exist. Winston knew of this because his job was just that; he edited texts from newspapers to magazines to books, so that history read however Big Brother pleased. Nobody could prove otherwise, for nothing existed to do so, and an attempt to go against the Party would result in death. In this way, the Party controlled the people, and they always believed that they were better off with Big Brother since the Revolution, when in fact life was terrible. Homes were falling apart, and there were always shortages of everything, but nobody knew of a time when it was not that way, and those that did knew they must be wrong; therefore, everyone was happy.

Winston was unfortunately aware of all of this, for he seemed to be the only one possessing a memory. His adventure started with a terrible act; he began a diary. This was forbidden, but his room to live in consisted of a pocket not within the range of the telescreen’s view, so he was safe. But not from the Thought police.

Throughout the story there are long, very descriptive love scenes and the like, but most of the book is very deep. The philosophical ideas and ways of thinking that are depicted are extraordinary. This excellent work of literature will force you to ponder about the meaning of life and love. George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-four opens new doors, and will challenge the way you think and everything you believe in. I never would have imagined that the totalitarian civilization of this book would ever work or even be possible, even in someone’s mind.

Nineteen Eighty-four, similar to Orwell’s Animal Farm, will expand your views on life and the world you live in. Though it was sometimes hard to follow the lengthy descriptions of various topics, I recommend this book to anyone looking for a new perspective on civilization and the value of life of love.