A Clockwork Orange - Review

I've been wanting to read this novel for quite awhile. But at the same time, I was hesitant - unsure I would like it, or appreciate it. I wrote about some of those hesitations and about my thoughts on the author's introduction to the novel here.

Now that the bar is over and I have considerably more brain power and my attention span has returned, I dove in ready for whatever Mr. Burgess had in store for me. Boy was I surprised - this novel wasn't as difficult, uncomfortable or unlikable as I thought. I really liked it.

A Clockwork Orange

By: Anthony Burgess

W.W. Norton & Co. 1987




The Language:

The language and vocabulary of this novel were challenging at first, but it was a very interesting aspect of the novel. It took me a while to get into the rhythm of the language, and to learn the vocabulary, but I eventually learned that rot means mouth and tolchock means a punch. I still am honestly unsure of what the word "horrorshow" means - but I do know it's an adjective that denotes something happy or good or cool or hip or fun or something similar.

Teenagers always have their own language - using and creating new words - but this was crazy. The trick to reading it is to just accept it and let it slide on by. Because I was so confused by the language the first few pages, I considered giving up the book. But after a few pages I began to understand words from context, and after a couple of chapters, the language was no longer a barrier.

In fact, the language really is a character all itself - a character I grew to appreciate, if not love. A quote from William Burroughs on the back of the book sums up the language element nicely: "I do not know of any other writer who has done as much with language as Mr. Burgess has done here - the fact that this is also a very funny book may pass unnoticed."

The Story

The story is simple: young, sociopathic hooligan eventually gets careless; goes to jail; government creates controversial "cure" for criminal and violent behavior; hooligan becomes the test subject; hooligan is "cured;" anti-government group uses "cured" hooligan as a poster boy for their cause; hooligan's "cure" is undone by the government because of all the bad publicity.

It's a simple story, but the characters and philosophical questions are complex. These are teenagers committing these horrible crimes. Alex is 15(!) and he's committing random and senseless thefts, assaults, rapes, and eventually murder. These are sociopaths - no human emotions or empathy - just the desire for entertainment at the expense of others with no regret. It's horrible. Somehow, though, the language used makes the fully described crimes seem dulled and at least less horrible.

The Philosophical Question

The controversial "cure" mentioned above is essentially behavior modification. The doctors give the subject a shot that will make him physically ill. They then sit the subject in front of a movie screen, prop his eyes open and make it impossible for him to move while they show him hours upon hours of violent films. Over a two week period, the subject learns to associate violence and criminal behavior with feelings of physical illness, and eventually without the medication, he feels sick whenever he considers violent behavior.

It seems like a great idea, if you are looking for a less criminal society. It saves space in jail and cuts down on the costs of rehabilitation. Also, it makes for a more thoughtful and considerate, law-abiding society.

The argument against it, of course is that now the subject has lost his freedom of choice. His motivations do not change - only his behavior does. He doesn't choose non-violent behavior, he basically has no choice. He isn't automatically good - he just appears to be. So it's a debate about what's more important: "Does God want goodness or the choice of goodness?" (p. 95 of my edition, a question by the prison chaplain.)

The "cure" doesn't make Alex a better person - he still wants to do bad things to people. He doesn't want to get a job and become a productive member of society. He is still horribly mean to his parents who have always been his doormats. He hasn't grown or become more understanding of his parents or of others. He is still wholly self-centered. He only refrains from violence and thieving because it makes him physically ill. It's almost like the "cure" made him more self-centered. "Self-interest, fear of physical pain, drove him to [act in a way contrary to his inclinations]." It's an interesting debate, but also, the author is obviously in favor of choice.

The Extra Chapter / Conclusion

This is a novel of change and evolution. It's only fitting that my feelings about the novel changed so drastically from start to finish. After reading the first couple of pages, I expected the book to be a chore and the character of Alex to be unlikeable. However, in the end I really enjoyed the philosophical questions and the evolution of Alex - even though his evolution wasn't really internal.

Also, it is impossible to talk about this novel without discussing its conclusion, so sorry for any spoilers (but not that sorry since this book was first copyrighted in 1962 - you've had plenty of time to read it). In my previous post about this novel (find it here) I wrote about how the author was so upset that the final chapter was left out of the original publications in the U.S. I can understand him being upset because he wrote it the way he did for a reason. But also, I can understand now why the U.S. publishers (and Kubric in his film) ignored the last chapter.

I found the last chapter to be disconnected and incongruous with the rest of the novel. It doesn't make sense. Why would a sociopath like Alex, suddenly cured of the "cure" suddenly just grow out of his violent tendencies? Does the author mean to tell me that all the raping, pillaging, destruction, and violence was just boys being boys? That's what it seems like - he just went through a violent phase, and now that he's an adult and he's been to jail for a couple of years, he's over that part of his life. It's almost insulting to my intelligence. Or maybe I'm just cynical. I know the author's point is that anyone can redeem his character, but I haven't seen any evidence of redemption in Alex. He still only wants things for himself - he wants a wife because he wants companionship. He is bored with his friends so he wants new ones. It's not a change in his way of functioning - it's only a change in what he wants.

Since reading the novel, I reread the introduction. In it, Burgess recalls his American publisher telling him the last chapter was a sellout. And I can see the publisher's point - it doesn't seem to match and it seems like it was put there to make the book more appealing. And, to give Burgess all the credit he deserves, he admits that his "aesthetic judgment may have been faulty. Writers are rarely their own best critics."

In the end, 21st chapter or not, the lesson to be learned from A Clockwork Orange is best stated in the words of the author: "It is as inhuman to be totally good as it is to be totally evil. The important thing is moral choice. Evil has to exist along with good, in order that moral choice may operate."

Do you know what "A Clockwork Orange" Is?

Because studying for the bar sucks so much and I spent all day today hunched over a book with 200 multiple choice questions, I decided to reward myself with a bath tonight. My back needed to calm down and I needed to escape. I considered listening to a civil procedure lecture via the iPod while laying in the bubbles, but quickly dismissed that idea.

The whole point of taking a bath is to relax with a book. Unfortunately, everything I'm in the middle of reading right now is on a Kindle or an iPad and those don't go anywhere near a tub. So I checked out my TBR shelf. I chose three books I've been wanting to read, and I figured I'd give them all a chance to hook me.

My mom sent me "The Literary Guernsey and Potato Peel Society" for Christmas, and while it seems like a decent (easy) read for a lazy afternoon someday, it's written all in letters, and I just don't have the patience for that right now. The other book I looked over is one my brother sent to me: "Warbreaker." It seems like it will be a good story, and I have always liked the books my brother sends me, but it's a fantasy / adventure type novel, and I don't have the brain power or desire to learn about a whole different world/society right now.

My third option is a book I've been wanting to read for years, but somehow never quite got around to: "A Clockwork Orange." I've seen the movie, of course, and I think I remember liking it. Although all I really remember is that there is a lot of violence, and in one scene they beat up someone while "Singing in the Rain" plays in the background. I remember thinking it was a really significant movie, but I was 19 and dating a boy who loved it, so who knows what I really thought. Anyways, because I've never forgotten that juxtaposition of violence and a song from a musical I grew up watching with my mother, I've always wanted to know more about it. I'm not sure quite what has kept me from reading it until now, other than the fact that I am afraid I won't get it or that it will be something other than what I've built it up in my mind to be.

I still can't start reading it right now, though, because I have enough to think about with the bar studying, and I don't want to read this until I can spend some serious time with the text - preferably when I have nothing else going on at all - like August when I'll be unemployed.

But tonight, I read the introduction written by Anthony Burgess himself, and I have some thoughts on it that I wanted to get out. I bought this copy of the book at a used book store in Fort Collins this past March, while visiting my brother (he's coming up a lot in this post), and it's published by W.W. Norton & Company in 1986. I only mention this, because I'm not sure whether this particular introduction is in other printed editions.

Three things I learned from the introduction: 1) when published in England (and almost every other country in the world) it was published with 21 chapters, but the original publication in the US was published without the final chapter - more on this below; 2) the phrase "a clockwork orange" is a phrase used to describe something bizarre - like "he's as queer as a clockwork orange." I always just assumed (not totally incorrectly it turns out) that the title was something weird and made up to go along with the weirdness of the story; and 3) I can't decide whether I like Anthony Burgess or not. I'm leaning toward not.

First, let's talk about the difference in the US version. Burgess tells us that his US publisher made him leave out the last chapter as a condition of publication in the US, and he was so desperate for money that he agreed (against his better judgment, of course). The publisher adds his own little note later saying that he remembers things differently, but it doesn't really matter which story is true, what matters is that they are now publishing the novel as Burgess intended. This seems like a petty little note to include and it's clear there's no love between these two.

The significance of leaving off the last chapter is important. In the 21st chapter, apparently, something that happens to make the protagonist more human. He sees the pointlessness and futility of his actions and his remorse makes him more human. As Burgess says:

"There is, in fact, not much point in writing a novel unless you can show the possibility of moral transformation ... When a fictional work fails to show change, when it merely indicates that human character is set, stony, unregenerable, then you are out of the field of the novel and into that of the fable or the allegory."

He makes a good point, and I agree. Apparently his US publishers thought it would be more interesting to portray the character and leave off the change of heart (i.e. it would sell better to Americans). Stanley Kubrick made his movie based on the American novel, also leaving out the change in the protagonist. Certainly it made the film the work of art that has interested and (scared?) us all to this day - an unrepentant and unchanged character.

All of this is very interesting, and it's great background information, but the point I want to bring up is that the way he writes his explanation makes me dislike Burgess some. I almost always dislike artists that put their work out into the world, and then act like they didn't want it to be a commercial success. Burgess, in this introduction goes on for several paragraphs about how this isn't the work that means the most to him, and compares himself to Rachmaninoff and Beethoven who were not appreciated for their later, more developed work, but were known for the work created when they were young and less experienced. He goes on about why it was so important to him to have 21 chapters and having only 20 threw off the whole numerological point he was trying to make (something about reaching an age of maturity).

But then he freely admits that he wrote the book for money. He agreed to whatever the publisher asked of him simply so that he could make a buck. He admits to appealing to our sinful natures and to the baser interests of the human race to make a point about moral choices- right and wrong, free will, etc. - which is kind of an elementary, or at least simple, theme. He writes that this novel "is a work too didactic to be artistic," and he seems to be ashamed of it.

This is what bothers me. Here is this brilliant man who has written this great work, which has inspired other great works, and has infiltrated the imagination of people worldwide, and he is too much of a snob to be proud of or glad that he wrote it. I dislike this so much. I also hate it in actors who later in their careers become ashamed of the commercial and (in their minds) "silly" projects they did while building a career - like they're above that now because they only do independent films. But it's necessary. It's part of becoming an artist, and there's no use looking down on it - it's the experience and the creativity and the product they've put out into the world, and which has shaped them as a performer / artist, and which has shaped our perception of them.

Inherent in those kinds of statements is the idea that if we (as consumers an patrons of art) like this novel, or those commercial films, or their other early pieces, we don't have good taste. We can't possibly understand their art or their point of view. It's snobbery, but it's also arrogance. And I just don't like it.

But, having said all that, I'm obviously still going to read the book. The fact that I dislike the author won't have anything (much) to do with how I read the novel. I believe I'm capable of divorcing the art from the artist. An honestly, it's the artists who are infuriating and unbearable in reality that create the best works. And with this much to say about the Introduction, imagine what intellectual treats await me within the actual story!

Have I embarrassed myself with this post? I've just re-read it, and I sound kind of snobby. Oh well, those are my impressions. In the final words of Burgess from this introduction: "Eat this sweetish segment or spit it out. You are free."