Julia Worthing is a mechanic, working in the Fiction Department at the Ministry of Truth. It’s 1984, and Britain (now called Airstrip One) has long been absorbed into the larger trans-Atlantic nation of Oceania. Oceania has been at war for as long as anyone can remember, and is ruled by an ultra-totalitarian Party, whose leader is a quasi-mythical figure called Big Brother. In short, everything about this world is as it is in Orwell’s 1984.
Julia has known no other world than that of Oceania and, until she meets Winston Smith, never imagined one. She’s an ideal citizen of Oceania. Cheerfully cynical, believing in nothing and caring not at all about politics, she routinely breaks the rules but also collaborates with the regime whenever necessary. Everyone likes Julia. But when one day, finding herself walking toward Winston in a corridor, she impulsively hands him a note–a potentially suicidal gesture–she comes to realize that she’s losing her grip and can no longer safely navigate her world.
I didn’t expect to love this book.
I’m a sucker for dystopia, and 1984 is a classic − one of the founders, but, in my opinion, not one of the best.
As it turned out while I was reading Julia, it’s not its age or the world building that doesn’t click for me. It’s the bland, boring, self-obsessed narrator.
Now, let’s be clear: Julia is self-obsessed. But she’s a woman in a hostel, surrounded by interesting characters, characters that she cares about. She’s not alone in an apartment. She’s not convinced that she’s going to bring the whole totalitarian government down.
Julia is just trying to live, and that’s so much more interesting than everything that went on in Winston’s dreams, in the little comfortable space he got to inhabit at the heart of the system.
Note: my book review backlog has not made any progress since August. I might write a few but thought I should probably stop focusing on the backlog and start publishing as I go. So here’s my first review in a while!
👍
KCRouth 🍻
