Fahrenheit 451

I first picked this up at 18 and was so bored I took it back to the library. I had been reading classics voraciously that summer along with PBS's The Great American Read program, and thought this would be an easy thing to tick off the list. Oops. I picked it up again at 23 and understood immediately why I'd returned it. But I continued on, and I'm proud of myself, but... Ugh.

So... I think I'm too old for this. I have a feeling my reaction to this book was like when someone over the age of 17 reads The Catcher in the Rye--It feels way too juvenile for serious thought.

I don't exactly know what happened here. I think this book suffers from what I call the "H.G. Wells Issue", where the idea of the text is so groundbreaking it somehow show more transcends the outdated-ness of the prose. The text here isn't dry like Wells', thank god, and the ideas are revolutionary for its time (it does have something to say for the public that first picked these pages up), but man, it has aged like bad wine. Not in sensibilities, but in naivety. Perhaps this is why the book is so overwhelmingly taught to middle and high schoolers--it's a simple book with themes trying to crack open your skull every paragraph. It doesn't have room for any nuance, and it makes its view of the world very clear. Is my distaste just because I have no palate for Sci-Fi? You can just tell it was written in 9 days, and that is in no way a compliment. It read like a first draft published way too soon because the author was established enough to get away with it.

Which leads me to my last, and the most petty point, is that I just don't like 20th-century "men's fiction". You know the type. I'm glad it exists (woe be male readers in today's XX litfic zeitgeist), and some of it can be quite beautiful, but as a taste of mine it generally reads as too naive, self-aggrandizing, and chauvinistic. If it has something relevant to say I don't mind as much, but unfortunately this book is a time capsule of Red Scare, Cold War, and post-war Capitalist neuroses. We are all far too jaded for this threat to mean anything anymore.

Oh well. It wasn't the worst thing ever. There is a real prosody I found and devoured in its pages, but I am glad it's off my list. show less

I read this for the first time since high school, and I was continually amazed at what I had missed at that point. I knew how important this book was as a dystopian depiction of what can happen in a society without books, but it was far richer than I imagined in details that paint how dreary Montag's life had become. Clarisse is a brilliant foil to Montag in the early stages of the book, and her appearance serves as an excellent juxtaposition to Mildred. I enjoyed how Montag was a flawed protagonist who was both rash in his decision making and self-aware of his shortcomings that resulted from his longtime ignorance. The contrast between Montag, a non-reader, and Beatty and Faber, who were both clearly well-read, was stark. The book was show more rife with irony, perhaps none more cutting than the fire chief clearly being well-read and articulate. However, as Montag recognized his unhappiness with his own life, he very much acted on his own intentions and was not influenced by Beatty any longer.

The role of the media in this book is a metaphor that felt much more salient today than ten years ago. Mildred, along with many other characters, constantly being tapped into programming that's devoid of substance was reminiscent of doomscrolling that is so common with the advent of short form video content. This feels even more significant when nearly every social media platform rushed to copy the model that TikTok pioneered. To me, this is an important reminder of how easily we can get wrapped up in these forms of media at the expense of books. Really, books are just one of many media that challenge us and require critical thinking. I found it to be particularly important how much of this media was altered, as well. When Montag brought a real bible back to Faber, Faber marveled at the details that no longer existed in the parlor depictions of the bible. This all culminated in the coverage of the chase for Montag after his crime, which is very much sensationalized and must end with capturing someone, even though they have lost Montag. This underscores how vital these media are in controlling and subduing the population in the face of a society that is fundamentally flawed.

Above all else, I loved how fire was depicted throughout the book. Man has an inherent connection to fire, and the continued appearance of fire in different contexts reminded me of this Blood Meridian quote: "The flames sawed in the wind and the embers paled and deepened and paled and deepened like the bloodbeat of some living thing eviscerate upon the ground before them and they watched the fire which does contain within it something of men themselves inasmuch as they are less without it and are divided from their origins and are exiles. For each fire is all fires, and the first fire and the last ever to be." I found multiple ideas from this quote to be salient: fire as a living being, men being less without fire, and all fires being connected. Fire is personified throughout this novel, as it has taken on a central role in this future society and is the means of destruction. I think that the association between men and fire is also established from the very beginning: "It was a pleasure to burn." Beyond the satisfaction that the firemen take in doing their job are the physical marks that it has left on them from years of burning. Even when they are not actively burning, the fire stays with them in the form of rosy cheeks and the odor of kerosine. Finally, I think that the connection between all fires is significant in this novel, particularly once Montag encounters fire outside of the context of destruction. He sees the fire in the forest and recognizes it as simply being warm, not hot, and how comforting that is. I think that the fundamental connection here between the fires of his job and this campfire represents the difference in the attitudes of these men compared with people who live in the cities. Being under the authority of the state in the city, each person is complicit in the destruction of books, knowledge, and noncompliance. On the other hand, these men who live in exile carry this knowledge rather than destroy it, and maintain fires for warmth and comfort rather than destruction.

I enjoyed one of the most central messages at the end of the book, that was repeated multiple times by Granger: "you are not important." Despite the important role that this group is taking on collectively of remembering a great body of literature, there is a strong emphasis on the fact that no individual among them assumes a greater significance. It is simply an important component of being human to remember the important stories that precede our time so that we may draw upon their important lessons. This to me is reminiscent of a quote I heard yesterday in a webinar: "humanity is the sum total of all of the arguments that we have accepted or rejected until this point." This is something that must be done on a societal level, and the role of each individual is to remember a component of this sum so that we may maintain and build upon our collective humanity over time.

Ultimately, this is a brilliant book that includes a great deal of important social commentary and underscores the importance of books as a means of carrying our humanity forward. show less

It's always startling to find a novel written in a bygone era that speaks as powerfully to today as it did to its own time. Originally published in 1953--64 years ago--Ray Bradbury's tale of book burning seems, if anything, more relevant than ever. In a world where people are lulled into a stupor of "happiness" by a surround of television walls and "Seashell" listening devices (what today we'd call earbuds) that feed them endless drivel, it's a crime to read a book. Houses are fireproof, so firemen no longer put out fires--they come with kerosene and flame to destroy books squirreled away by those few who still cling to them.

You may already know this, and more. Fahrenheit 451 is one of those classic novels you read in school, if nowhere show more else. I read it long ago myself, and am only now catching up to it again. Rediscovering the novel, though, was only half the treat. This edition gives us not only the novel, but all the "bonus tracks" that help place it in time and bring it forward to our day. Bradbury's own comments on it, including his rant over the censorship that, in an incredible twist of irony, made it "safe" for schools without his knowledge, are priceless.

But perhaps the most striking things about this novel are how we can see in it events swirling around us. Bradbury warned of the "tyranny of the minority," those who insist upon making speech "safe" or "appropriate" by requiring concessions to their own points of view. More than ever, we are surrounded by exactly this behavior. He warned against immersion in lowest common denominator entertainment, and here we are, plugged into our electronics, heads down, thumbs perpetually on the virtual keyboards, oblivious to all else. A mere week before I began my rereading of F.451, I was setting out the trash when a young man walked by and nearly blundered into and over my garbage can because he was so focused on his cell phone. I'm not kidding. And that isn't the only or worst such incident I've witnessed. We've become a nation, if not a world, of whiners, moaning about how bad people make us "feel" when they don't agree with our point of view. In Bradbury's novel, the firemen aren't the chief destroyers of books; most people simply don't want them anymore. They'd rather be safe, dumb, and happy than deal with significant, potentially disturbing thoughts.

If you haven't read F.451, you really should. And if you already have, it might be time to do so again. show less

As a kid Ray Bradbury was to me an author represented by the twin pillars of The Martian Chronicles and Fahrenheit 451. The first of these I read numerous times and enjoyed it greatly, with even the dull 1980 miniseries holding a certain nostalgic charm for me. The latter, though, was a book I never felt compelled to read despite its reputation and my enjoyment of Bradbury’s other works. My first exposure to it wasn’t even through reading it but from watching Truffaut’s 1966 film, which has shaped my mental images of the book ever since.

Eventually, thanks to the recommendation of a friend, I did read the novel itself, and when I did I was struck by how powerful a statement it was about the importance of reading. With me Bradbury show more was preaching to the choir, but it wasn’t until I reread the book that I gained a fuller measure of its genius. Revisiting it helped me to appreciate more fully the prescience of his critique of American society, particularly its rejection of the stimulating benefits of culture in favor of vapid entertainment. The effects of this are shot through the story in ways both large and small, and while I recognized the visible ones the first time around (such as Montag’s confrontation of his wife and her friends with a poetry reading) it was the smaller ones that stood out for me when I reread it. Especially powerful was the presence of suicide in the story: while we first encounter it at the beginning of the novel when Montag discovers his wife overdosing on sleeping pills, casual mentions of an epidemic of suicides are shot throughout the text. Together they make it clear that this is a society of people who are profoundly unhappy.

All this, of course, occurs despite the constant attempts to drown out everyone’s sorrows with an overwhelming barrage of media noise. People are inundated with omnipresent media, to the point where Montag’s discovery of silence near the end of the book is almost profound. Yet the most this can do is stiffly temporarily the collective unhappiness. Even Beatty, the most tangible of representation of authority in the story, chooses death over continuing on. Blaming the books as he does is to criticize the mirror for what he sees in it – and it’s clear that deep down inside himself he knows that.

That Bradbury’s novel is no less relevant today than it was when it was first published nearly seventy years ago is a testament to the perceptiveness of his critique of modern society. The issues he addresses – the importance of literature, the value of contemplation, and the damage that results from a society that falls victim to distraction – are, if anything, even more of a concern in a nation that prioritizes STEM education to the exclusion of the humanities and in which social media overwhelms us with trivialities. All of this makes it as important as ever to pick up a book and read what’s in it – and to ponder what it bestirs within ourselves when we do so. show less

Despite being a fan of sci-fi, this is my first Ray Bradbury novel... and in reading it I was quickly put under a spell. The language is lovely and adorned, but not pretentious. I read this via the audiobook, narrated by Tim Robbins, who did a wonderful job. I'll need to read it again at some point to pick up on some of the nuance, but what I was left feeling was an overwhelming sense that this is not too far askew from reality. This is a state we could find ourselves in. This is fiction, but it only feels two steps to the right of non-fiction. Fahrenheit 451 is an important book, about the perils of relinquishing control and losing sight of reality... and no matter what, I'll keep it stored in my memory as such.

Description: In Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury's classic, frightening vision of the future, firemen don't put out fires--they start them in order to burn books. Bradbury's vividly painted society holds up the appearance of happiness as the highest goal--a place where trivial information is good, and knowledge and ideas are bad. Fire Captain Beatty explains it this way, "Give the people contests they win by remembering the words to more popular songs.... Don't give them slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy."

Guy Montag is a book-burning fireman undergoing a crisis of faith. His wife spends all day with her television "family," imploring Montag to work harder so that they can afford a show more fourth TV wall. Their dull, empty life sharply contrasts with that of his next-door neighbor Clarisse, a young girl thrilled by the ideas in books, and more interested in what she can see in the world around her than in the mindless chatter of the tube. When Clarisse disappears mysteriously, Montag is moved to make some changes, and starts hiding books in his home. Eventually, his wife turns him in, and he must answer the call to burn his secret cache of books. After fleeing to avoid arrest, Montag winds up joining an outlaw band of scholars who keep the contents of books in their heads, waiting for the time society will once again need the wisdom of literature.

Thoughts: A little bit of personal history needs to be shared to understand my connection to this book. My dad has always been a reader, his favorite author is Hemingway and I think he owns everything ever written by or about him, but he isn't someone who talks about books or ever went out of his way to put books in front of me. I don't ever remember my mom reading until a few years ago and, now that she does read, we don't share book tastes at all. So, even from a young age, I was pretty much responsible for my own reading. For a long time that mostly meant reading whatever was assigned in school and the couple of books that would come my way from friends or family members.

When I was 13 or 14 I discovered the joys of the library. Of course, I'd been to the school library before, but it wasn't until then that I realized I could explore the library for exciting new books. So I started exploring. The first book that I found for myself was The Giver- talk about an education! I didn't know books could be so intriguing and thought-provoking and interesting. I needed more.

The next book I came across was Fahrenheit 451. This book just blew me away. Mostly it was the feeling that the plot of the book was close enough to be uncomfortable, but it was also Bradbury's prose and ideals that really spoke to me. The questioning of "modern society," the appeal of Clarisse who was so open and receptive, the book people who carried entire books in their heads... Reading Fahrenheit 451 opened me up to all the amazing books I would read after it, made me a sponge for literature.

I don't know if other people can pinpoint the specific moments in time when they became a different person, but I feel like I can. It started with The Giver but it blossomed with Fahrenheit 451 and I will forever be grateful to Ray Bradbury for that.

Here are some of my favorite bits:

"But everyone I know is either shouting or dancing around like wild or beating up one another. Do you notice how people hurt each other nowadays?"
"You sound so very old."
"Sometimes I'm ancient. I'm afraid of children my own age. They kill each other. Did it always use to be that way? My uncle says no. Six of my friends have been shot in the last year alone. Ten of them died in car wrecks. I'm afraid of them and they don't life me because I'm afraid. My uncle says his grandfather remembered when children didn't kill each other. But that was a long time ago when they had things different. They believed in responsibility, my uncles says."

"Once, books appealed to a few people, here, there, everywhere. They could afford to be different. The world was roomy. But then the world got full of eyes and elbows and mouths. Double, triple, quadruple population. Films and radios, magazines, books leveled down to a sort of pastepudding norm, do you follow me?...
Classics cut to fit fifteen-minute radio shows, then cut again to fill a two-minute book column, winding up at last as a ten- or twelve-line dictionary resume.... Do you see? Out of the nursery into the college and back to the nursery; there's your intellectual pattern for the past five centuries or more...
School is shortened, discipline relaxed, philosophies, histories, languages dropped, English and spelling gradually gradually neglected, finally almost completely ignored. Life is immediate, the job counts, pleasure lies all about after work...
Now let's take up the minorities in our civilization, shall we?... The people in this book, this play, this TV serial are not meant to represent any actual painters, cartographers, mechanics anywhere... Authors, full of evil thoughts, lock up your typewriters. They did. Magazines became a nice blend of vanilla tapioca. Books, so the damned snobbish critics said, were dishwater. No wonder books stopped selling, the critics said. But the public, knowing what it wanted, spinning happily, let the comic book survive... There you have it, Montag. It didn't come from the Government down. There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship, to start with, no! Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God. Today, thanks to them, you can stay happy all the time, you are allowed to read comics, the good old confessions, or trade journals."

"It's not the books you need, it's some of the things that once were in books... No, no, it's not books at all you're looking for! Take it where you can find it, in old phonograph records, old motion pictures, and in old friends; look for it in nature and look for it in yourself. Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us...
After all, when we had all the books we needed, we still insisted on finding the highest cliff to jump off. But we do need a breather. We do need knowledge. And perhaps in a thousand years we might pick smaller cliffs to jump off. The books are to remind us what asses and fools we are. They're Caesar's praetorian gaurd, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, 'Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal.' Most of us can't rush around, talk to everyone, know all the cities of the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine per cent of them is in a book."

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Guy Montag is a fireman. Not like we know firemen. He burns books since houses are now fireproof and it is illegal to own books or even to read them. However, Guy has been stealing books and hiding them in his house. When they go to a house to burn the books hidden there and someone dies, Guy starts to question why they are burning books. What is wrong with books? What happens to him when he reads one? Can he live with the answers? Can he live as a fugitive from society?

This is so timely. Bradbury was writing of a dystopian society, but I see so many parallels with today's headlines. Politicians want certain books banned. School boards are getting into the battle on censoring books. There are publishers who want to make books show more politically correct before children read them. I find all this so wrong.

Montag may lose everything with his behavior and thoughts, but he has woken up to see what he and society has lost because of the censorship and people not reading. When he meets a neighbor who is a teen, and she talks to him about so many things that no one talks of he realizes how much of living he has missed. With his wife so absorbed into her "wall family" and how hard she tries so hard to be happy, he realizes this is no life for him anymore. He wants her to join him, but she wants the status quo. Seeing their marriage fall apart is sad. Seeing Montag free himself gave me hope that the "everyman" can be the rebel in his own quiet way.

In his own way, Montag wins. He shows that we need some event to wake us up to the status quo and have us start questioning what is happening around us and if it is right. For us who are readers, we can best be like Montag by reading everything--banned books, censored books, politically incorrect books that are products of their times--then have them available in our homes for our children and others. Use them to teach. Use them to learn. Use them to grow. Use them to promote discussion. Do not let the status quo win. show less