Reviews
** spoiler alert ** “Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were heading for shore.” *** I was happy to read this book because I’ve been meaning to read it for the longest time. Thankfully, it was required reading for the class. The story heavily reminded me of 1984 because it deals with censorship. However, the events didn’t feel as grim because of Bradbury’s colloquial writing style. I felt pity for Montag’s marriage because I felt like he wanted to fix their relationship—however, Mildred was indifferent to his requests. It didn’t surprise me that she eventually betrayed him. Beatty was also a morally grey character. On the one hand, he was their leader, but he never attempted to conceal his widespread knowledge considering books. I believe he was a secret reader just like Montag— this explains why he didn’t do anything to prevent his death. Perhaps it was his way of atoning for his sins. The plot was disjointed, though. I felt like I was watching everything go by so fast, even though plenty of major events were happening. Due to the lack of worldbuilding, the story failed to connect with me entirely. But overall, I still enjoyed the book because of its unique premise. Interesting how they only preserve the “classics” at the end. It’s bound to generate some discourse because what exactly counts as a classic?
people who called ray bradbury crazy are now rolling in their graves
This was to say, a very interesting book. The plot, characters, and the overall emotion the author was trying to convey were amazing. It made me want to read more. The author was amazing by building a visual by only words. I will definitely reread this book when I am older to understand it better. Guy Montag is a fireman. However, instead of putting out fires, like in the real world, he burns books and the houses that contain it. He claims his hands have a mind of its own, and over the years he has worked, he has stolen a number of books. After he has seen a woman committing suicide for the honour of books and what they mean, he begins to question the very order of the world. In the city, where he lives, everything is superficial and fake with no one loving no one. With the help of an old man, he tries to make the world understand but fails. However, he does seem hopeful for a future where people will listen, waiting in the country with similar people like him. It made me question a lot of things in life, and to me, that means it is a good book. It made me realize how important books were, and that it lets us experience life even though we have never lived in place of that character or in this setting. This book, written over 60 years ago, holds true to our present world, and that, to me, is the most frightening thing ever.
The US is too "Christian" of a country to ever ban the Bible.
some dystopian mixed with bitter truth of reality. second time around reading this and I’m more appreciative of this text. The parallels are unfortunate lol
He could feel the Hound, like autumn, come cold and dry and swift, like a wind that didn’t stir grass, that didn’t jar windows or disturb leaf shadows on the white sidewalks as it passed. The Hound did not touch the world. It carried its silence with it, so you could feel the silence build up a pressure behind you all across town. I was surprised. See, I DON’T LIKE CLASSICS. I don’t care how much you protest. Classics are the only good literature! Far better than that drivel we have nowadays! You know what? nowadays, while there is plenty of drivel (trust me, I’ve read it (Prince of Wolves)) but we also have books full of witty dialogue and well-developed, believable characters, well-constructed plots, in-depth world-building and some of them even have pretty nice writing to boot. Sorry bout the tangent. I did not read this book for a class or anything. I picked it up because one of my best friends told me to read it or else. And you know what? I’ll bet I missed a lot of the symbolism and shit I would’ve noticed had I read with a class. But whatever. THIS IS THE FIRST (non-Shakespearian) CLASSIC I’VE EVER LIKED. I could have done with a little more character development, but I liked it anyway. I liked the plot. The plot was about a man discovering that his world was more than he thought, and that he had to escape. There was some good action to keep me interested. I liked the characters. Montag, Clarisse (view spoiler)[even though I think Clarisse’s death came a little out of nowhere (hide spoiler)], Faber (Especially Faber) And I loved the concept. The concept, while undoubtedly terrifying (a world where books are illegal? Where they are burned?) it seems… plausible. Honestly, that it is the BEST way to try to control a populace. By taking away their knowledge. By taking away their books. Think about that thought. Scary, isn’t it?
Got a lot of time for this story There were two things I loved about this book: firstly, I adored the writing style. Ray Bradbury knows how to make a scene feel quick and urgent with the way he writes and he's got a great way of using metaphors and illustrating the characters feelings. Secondly, I love the message this book gives. A future where books are banned because they give people ideas and get them talking. The story goes that headlines became shorter, stories became less informative and eventually it was thought a better idea to simply rid the world of print media. Does that sound like a lot of clickbait and "fake news" you've read recently? Unfortauntely we can't burn the internet like books.
Read it first in 8th grade and then again as an adult. It's interesting to read in the context of TV and social media.
"Stuff your eyes with wonder. Live as if you'll drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping its life away. To hell with that, shake the tree and knock the great sloth on his ass."
Prior to this week, I had never actually read Fahrenheit 451, I'd just managed to consume at least 70% of it by osmosis via quotations, articles, and online arguments. Surely, I thought going into this, there has to be more to the book. Nope! The ideology of Fahrenheit 451 promotes complex narratives over simple ones, specificity over mass appeal, and discomfort over safety. People describe this ideology as pro-free speech or pro-intellectualism, although I'd say within the text it'd be more accurate to say it's anti-censorship and anti-anti-intellectualism, in that it shows the deleterious effects of censorship and anti-intellectualism and not the benefits of the opposites and doesn't equip anyone to argue in favor of them, which is not a great place to stand on rhetorically. Less discussed is that the ideology is equally pro-individualism, and this is crucial, particularly in the Cold War context. Television serves as the main (although not the only; Beatty also specifically points to comic books and pulp novels) symbol of what the ideology stands against. The problem is that Fahrenheit 451 itself is narratively and rhetorically at about the same level as a mid-century Western film. There's very little humanity (by which I mean literally no one remembers this book for the strength of its characters), just good guys and bad guys and blowing sh*t up, and one barely has to think to realize which ideology is the "right" one. It's not like Montag actually becomes a more discerning or compassionate person or something over the course of the novel, he just changes ideologies. People who make the distinction of literature as a subset of fiction (like Bradbury does in the text) often place Fahrenheit 451 as literature, and I'm not usually one to participate in defining any distinction, but wow that assessment is wrong. And so Fahrenheit 451 renders its central ideology silly and the whole time I wished I was reading a better book. In conclusion, I interpret Fahrenheit 451 as a novel with a very specific goal, and Bradbury failed to attain it because the text is too facile to stand on any other merits outside of ideology.
three stars because i'm not a fan of the writing. other than that, i really liked it! it definitely leaves you thinking.
Great book! Exceptional writing.
Wow
Even better on the second read. Bradbury simply doesn’t miss
I never read this in school, and reading it as an adult was such a treat. It was a quick page turner. Full of lush passages to chew, swallow, and digest. I’m looking forward to reading more from Bradbury.
Ehm, gimana ya nulisnya? Karena judul buku ini "Fahrenheit 451", saya mengira yang dibahas adalah sejarah mengapa buku-buku dilarang dan pemberontakan dari para pecinta buku. Ternyata saya salah. Ini adalah tentang Guy Montag yang mencari alasan kenapa dia tidak bahagia yang, sejujurnya, tidak nyambung sama sekali dengan judul buku ini. Bab 1 dan 2 sangat amat lambat perkembangannya ditambah lagi terjemahannya kurang bagus sampai saya hampir menyerah membaca dan memahami jalan cerita. Saya baru tertarik menyelesaikan buku ini saat memasuki bab 3. Yah, mungkin kalau yang versi bahasa Inggris-nya lebih enak dibaca dan dipahami.
a lot better than i remember! still doesn't even touch 1984 or bnw, but its creative use of animalistic imagery is really effective. pleasantly surprised this time around
This review was written on 14-March-2015 For ages, I remembered the first line of Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love. It's one of the best opening lines, in my opinion. It stays true to its story. After having read Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, its first line seems to be the greatest now. It was a pleasure to burn. Fahrenheit 451, set in an unknown dystopian era, follows a fireman, Guy Montag. Firemen start fire in his time; they burn banned books. As the first line goes, they set fire to books without a trace of regret. If the owners protest, they face the fate of their books too. Montag meets an interesting teenager: Clarisse McClellan. In a world, where people watch TV for endless hours, engage in pointless conversations, and allow the Government to make decisions for them, McClellan is a thinker. She walks alone in the wee hours, taking time to enjoy nature's gifts, genuinely trying to make friends. She wakes Montag up from a comfortable dream. She makes him think. She makes him question. And life becomes a bed of thorns for Montag, for he begins to read. Fahrenheit 451 explores censorship, totalitarianism, and the shadow that electronic media can cast on human race. Beyond all the important themes, what looked more appealing to me was Bradbury's narration and his imagination of a world where books have no place. I haven't read many books. But of all the writers whom I have read, not many used fragments as brilliantly as Bradbury. Each line gives a fantastic visual. The clutter in Montag's mind travel to mine seamlessly. The dialogues between Montag and McClellan are classic examples of his language mastery. I wanted them to walk more, talk longer. But Bradbury disappointed me there. :( He felt she was walking in a circle about him, turning him end for end, shaking him quietly, and emptying his pockets, without once moving herself. Perhaps, just to bask in the beauty of his prose, I would want to read Fahrenheit 451 again. The story might not be layered. I might not remember the plot five years from now. Also, I might not rave about the book and arm-twist my friends into reading it. To me, as a reader, as a sucker for English, Fahrenheit 451 worked to a great degree, only because of the fantastic writing. The story came next. Maybe, on a random day, I would pull out this little book from the shelf, to read only the conversation between Montag and McClellan. Their words keep ringing in my ears. Her face, turned to him now, was fragile milk crystal with a soft and constant light in it. It was not the hysterical light of electricity but -- what? But the strangely comfortable and rare and gently flattering light of the candle. In a way, Fahrenheit 451 is a tribute to readers, who seek solace in the parallel worlds of books. It reinstates our love for papers and printed words. Fahrenheit 451 is also a fair warning to book-lovers: Devour books! Hog them! Read! Keep reading! Read till the sun stops burning! Most of us can't rush around, talk to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven't time, money or that many friends. The things you're looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine per cent of them is in a book.
** spoiler alert ** really good, wasnt the biggest fan of the ending tho
ending gives me great gatsby vibes, more fun to read though. i don't get why some things happened, but it's okay!
3.75/5 Apathy is not a solution to pain. Sadness is part of life, like joy it leads to our growth.
I just loved how poetic this book was. I loved the concepts Ray Bradbury presented. It was all just executed and arranged so well. It was a nice read.
“The things you’re looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine per cent of them is in a book. Don’t ask for guarantees. And don’t look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore.”
✦ had high hopes for this american classic esp since ph 2022 is a similar book-burning, media-glued dystopia ✦ another rage read but one that had unfortunately ended lukewarm for me
Highlights
"Well," she said, "I'm seventeen and I'm crazy. My uncle says the two always go together. When people ask your age, he said, always say seventeen and insane.“
“In these days when we worry and we argue about whether ebooks are real books, I love how broad Ray Bradbury’s definition of a book is at the end, when he points out that we should not judge our books by their covers, and that some books exist between covers that are perfectly people-shaped.”
Why do we need the things in books? The poems, the essays, the stories? Authors disagree. Authors are human and fallible and foolish. Stories are lies after all, tales of people who never existed and the things that never actually happened to them. Why should we read them? Why should we care?
The teller and the tale are very different. We must not forget that.
Ideas—written ideas—are special. They are the way we transmit our stories and our thoughts from one generation to the next. If we lose them, we lose our shared history. We lose much of what makes us human. And fiction gives us empathy: it puts us inside the minds of other people, gives us the gift of seeing the world through their eyes. Fiction is a lie that tells us true things, over and over.
If someone tells you what a story is about, they are probably right.
If they tell you that that is all the story is about, they are very definitely wrong.
Any story is about a host of things. It is about the author; it is about the world the author sees and deals with and lives in; it is about the words chosen and the way those words are deployed; it is about the story itself and what happens in the story; it is about the people in the story; it is polemic; it is opinion.
An author’s opinions of what a story is about are always valid and are always true: the author was there, after all, when the book was written. She came up with each word and knows why she used that word instead of another. But an author is a creature of her time, and even she cannot see everything that her book is about.
People think—wrongly—that speculative fiction is about predicting the future, but it isn’t; or if it is, it tends to do a rotten job of it. Futures are huge things that come with many elements and a billion variables, and the human race has a habit of listening to predictions for what the future will bring and then doing something quite different.
What speculative fiction is really good at is not the future but the present— taking an aspect of it that troubles or is dangerous, and extending and extrapolating that aspect into something that allows the people of that time to see what they are doing from a different angle and from a different place. It’s cautionary.
Sometimes writers write about a world that does not yet exist. We do it for a hundred reasons. (Because it’s good to look forward, not back. Because we need to illuminate a path we hope or we fear humanity will take. Because the world of the future seems more enticing or more interesting than the world of today. Because we need to warn you. To encourage. To examine. To imagine.) The reasons for writing about the day after tomorrow, and all the tomorrows that follow it, are as many and as varied as the people writing.
And on either side of the river was there a tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month; And the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. Yes, thought Montag, that’s the one I’ll save for noon. For noon … When we reach the city.
“I hate a Roman named Status Quo!” he said to me. “Stuff your eyes with wonder,” he said, “live as if you’d drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It’s more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping its life away. To hell with that,” he said, “shake the tree and knock the great sloth down on his ass.”’
he was a thing of horn and blood that would smell like autumn if you bled it out on the ground.
A deer. He smelled the heavy musk-like perfume mingled with blood and the gummed exhalation of the animal’s breath, all cardamon and moss and ragweed odour in this huge night where the trees ran at him, pulled away, ran, pulled away, to the pulse of the heart behind his eyes.
they say there’s lots of old Harvard degrees on the tracks between here and Los Angeles.
But remember that the Captain belongs to the most dangerous enemy of truth and freedom, the solid unmoving cattle of the majority. Oh, God, the terrible tyranny of the majority.
“The folly of mistaking a metaphor for a proof, a torrent of verbiage for a spring of capital truths, and oneself as an oracle, is inborn in us, Mr Valéry once said.”’
“The Devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.”
If you hide your ignorance, no one will hit you and you’ll never learn.
‘Do you know that books smell like nutmeg or some spice from a foreign land? I loved to smell them when I was a boy.
He ran on the white tiles up through the tunnels, ignoring the escalators, because he wanted to feel his feet move, arms swing, lungs clench, unclench, feel his throat go raw with air.
if you read fast and read all, maybe some of the sand will stay in the sieve. But he read and the words fell through,
She was beginning to shriek now, sitting there like a wax doll melting in its own heat.
Melting wax dolls also also appear in The Satanic Verses (a book that was burnt like those in Fahrenheit 451).
A special spot-wavex-scrambler also caused his televised image, in the area immediately about his lips, to mouth the vowels and consonants beautifully.
Anticipates deepfakes by 70 years.
Cram them full of non-combustible data, chock them so damned full of “facts” they feel stuffed, but absolutely “brilliant” with information. Then they’ll feel they’re thinking, they’ll get a sense of motion without moving.
The girl? She was a time bomb. The family had been feeding her subconscious, I’m sure, from what I saw of her school record.
‘Coloured people don’t like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don’t feel good about Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Burn it. Someone’s written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book. Serenity, Montag. Peace, Montag.
Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal.