4.5 stars My oh my, what a difference time and format can make. I remember the first time I read this book. It was probably 2005, maybe 2006, and I was working in the "Consumer Relations" department at my customer service job. Basically, I was the helpdesk, tech support, and the person you talk to when you call somewhere pissed off about something and ask for a manager, but you aren't connected to a manager - you're connected to me. (Believe me, we hate that just as much as you do - we got all the shit and none of the pay. But I also hope you believe me when I say that usually talking to me was the better option. Not all managers know or can do customer service. Just sayin'.) Anyway, I remember that we had a really slow period, and one of my co-workers had this book on her desk, and so I read it between calls. And... Meh. It was OK. I could see why some people would really like it, but for me, it just didn't do much. Now, I should mention that the copy she had was the American version with only 20 chapters. I'm not sure if that last chapter would have really made a difference to me way back when... but I think it does now. So, when this was selected for my bookclub for May, I was actually really excited to read it again and see if I felt the same way, or if maybe reading it in fits and starts while at work had been the problem, or if maybe getting back into an appropriate mental place after getting yelled at on a call had given me trouble. Who knows? Back then, I was 23 and I likely assumed the fault was in the book, not in my reading of it. This time, I also made sure to get the author's preferred version with 21 chapters, and opted for an audiobook. Of course, I still listened to it at work, but I have a different job now, and interruptions are less frequent and much less angry. ;)I think listening this time allowed me to really experience the story in a way I hadn't before. Nadsat was hard for me to wrap my head around when I read this before (though that could have had to do with HOW I was reading it), so I probably skimmed, and probably didn't get as much out of the text as I could have. It was like there was no connection there between the slang and the meaning, and I didn't take the time to put them together. But listening, I couldn't skim. I listened to every word, and in context, it was perfect. It no longer felt like work to figure out what Alex was saying. It no longer felt awkward at all - it was just this boy telling me his story, and me drinking it in. I will say the reader read extremely slowly. I understand this, actually, because if I were to read this book out loud, it would be a catastrophe. The language just doesn't roll off the tongue easily - it's like a tongue twister in another language. So he took his time reading it, and I can't blame him for it, but it was hard for me to listen like that. Thankfully though, I could adjust the play speed to 2x. At that setting, it was maybe just a hair faster than normal talking speed, and sounded SO much more natural for Alex, him being, like, used to the lingo and all. If it was only Alex that was read so slowly, I'd think it was intentional to make him seem more relaxed, more in control and sure of himself. He's the brains and the leader of his little band of droogs, and even at home he speaks and others listen... if they know what's good for them. But, the other characters in the book were read at the same slow pace, so I think it was more a concern for reading clearly and not tripping over the Nadsat.Anyway, moving on to the story itself, I was really impressed this time around. (Fair warning, I discuss the plot from this point on.) The book jumps right into showing us Alex in all his unapologetic depravity. He's a real shit. And at only 15, it's frightening to think of how long his reign of terror could go on if it weren't for his friends turning their backs on him and turning him in. Let's be honest here, he's a little naive in thinking that his leadership is absolute - but he is extremely smart, and had the potential, if he were only a little more observant of human nature, to put down the quiet plot against him and continue in his ways for as long as he cared to. But his way has always been one of smash and grab. Take what you want, don't ask, and it doesn't matter if the person doesn't like the taking - strength and audacity are key. Subtlety is lost on him, except in music, and to him, it's impossible that any of his group could be harboring resentment toward him for anything - or if they are, that they'd ever act on it. But they do, and Alex finds himself caught, and now on the receiving end of the brutality. And here's where things get impressive for me - because I knew I was being manipulated to feel certain ways, but I couldn't stop it from happening. I started to feel sorry for Alex, and want to stand up for him, especially when it comes to the Ludovico treatment. Actually, I'm not sure if it's Alex specifically, or human nature and choice and freedom, that I felt this way about. Alex was just the representative body showing the extremes... as well as the danger of an uninformed decision. It was kind of heartbreaking for me to watch his reconditioning being flaunted and praised, because his freedom of thought was taken from him. He had no choice, and even thinking of defending himself against the man they hired to attack him, or having sex with the woman they hired to entice him, made him so sick that he felt like he was dying. That's a much worse fate than simply being in prison. At least there, your mind is still your own. And it bothered me, a lot, that he was basically told not to complain about the process or the horrifying fact that the music he loved and appreciated would carry such awful associations and cause such sickening physical reactions (though he couldn't express it in those terms), because "he made his choice". Ugh. It probably seems ridiculous, considering some of Alex's crimes, but for me, this was one of the most horrifying concepts in the book. That they wouldn't tell him exactly what he was signing up for, and that they'd use the process on a teenager, is criminal in itself. Yes, he is a criminal, and one of the absolute worst because he does it for fun. His M.O. is random mayhem and destruction of lives, and that's unforgivable. But the adults, the doctors who hold his whole future in their hands, are the ones who really frighten me. And if you consider the implications of music being used, it really hits home just how terrible this could be. Hearing music isn't something that one has control over. It's not a conscious decision, robbing someone, or beating or raping them. There's music everywhere, and using a popular classical piece of music that one might hear in a store, or museum, or in a movie or any other innocuous place or event is just short sighted and horrific. Even if the treatment worked, and Alex completely retrained his thought processes to avoid triggering the sickness, he could be subjected to it time and again, without warning or any means of prevention. And of course, what happened is pretty much exactly that, only used purposefully against him rather than him just encountering it accidentally. In that situation, his only means of escape was to try to kill himself.Is it any wonder that as soon as he was healed from his attempted suicide he'd go back to his old ways? He wasn't cured of anything - he was just tortured every time he thought. Of course he'd want to go back to "normal" after that! Stanley Kubrick ended his movie there, and for American editions of the book, that's the end of the story. That some people are unable or unwilling to change and are unrepentant and irredeemable. But Burgess's story doesn't end there, and Alex does grow out of his rampaging ways. He just loses the "mood" to tear things down. This epilogue, for lack of a better word, seems almost too abrupt for such a change of heart. But I didn't think so. He likely wouldn't have had it if he hadn't gone through the Ludovico Fiasco, but he did, and I think it made him see pain in a new way - not as something done for fun to others and never thought of again (as he'd likely always seen it before), but as something that can ruin lives - including his own. And I think that seeing the grovelling, begging thing he became in the midst of his Ludovico sickness made him feel too close to his victims, and it was no longer fun. I'm just speculating at Alex's feelings here - the final chapter is brief, and really all that happens in it is that Alex meets his old droog Pete, and Pete's new wife. He visualizes himself married, and has a vision of his own son, of what it would be like to be a father, trying to teach your kid right and wrong, and realizing, I think, how his own father must have been frustrated by his failure to do so. But he embarks on this new chapter in his life anyway, which, I think is rather commendable and wise for someone only just turned 18 and so used to the ultraviolence on the streets. Sometimes, it just takes a little perspective to make a change, not being forced into it. Go figure that.
If the eating of the cake is in the pudding, then the reading of the book is in the language. A Clockwork Orange (1962) by Anthony Burgess is a dystopian coming-of-age sci-fi and is one of the TIME Magazine's Best 100 Novels. For me, what makes this novel unique is the use of a fictional language that Burgess invented and called nadsat which is a mix of modified Slavic words, rhyming slang, derived Russian (like "baboochka"). In his interview, Burgess said that the reason why he invented a language for this novel is for the story to be kept dated and to muffle "the raw response of pornography" from the acts of violence. Very clever. A new language to keep the book dated. During my younger years my female classmates spoke "colegiala English" now many young people speak "jejemon language." I finished this 140-page novelette in one full (weekend) day but I struggled understanding the language. However, like what Burgess said in the interview, the meaning of some of his words can be deduced by their contextual usage. This is the reason why in my edition of this book (Penguin), there is no glossary unlike in William Burrough's Junky where the drug addict words and their meanings are listed for easy reference.Yesterday, The Filipino Group here in Goodreads had our Meet-Up 2. Just for fun, I will try to use Burgess' Nadsat. It was a horrorshow event. To viddy once again the people who already became my droogs during the first meet-up last April was fun. I wore the new risp that my lawyer-brother gave me as birthday present. The slovos, as always, were interesting and filled so many horrorshow thoughts in my gulliver. There were 7 malchickiwicks or I should say vecks and 5 devochkas . Jam still has a best listo while Ace, according to Jam looks like a prestoopnick. The yahzick of Ace was tied up maybe because it was the first time he saw Jam. Jam says that she likes bad malchick but she also says that she does not want malchick who cancers. The food was horrorshow that I don't think anyone of us ate malenky. After Yam Cha, we proceeded to Cafe Breton in Trinoma. There, we talked about mostly books and sinny. Jam was the only one who viddied Leonardo the Caprio's Inception so Ranee did not want to hear what she was saying. I hope I am not talking like cal. Because I hate being like cal. If you have the patience to figure out the meaning of those words, go ahead and give this novel a try. The book is divided into 3 parts and each part is composed of 7 chapters. Burgess said that 21 is the age of a man when he is supposed to reach the age of maturity. This is apt because Part I is basically the introduction of who the main characters in the story are: Alex de Large, 15-y/o narrator and main protagonist who is the leader of a gang composed of himself and his three cohorts: idiotic but best fighter in the group, Dim; the second-in-command George and the conscience of the gang, Pete. They are not as viscious as Patrick Bateman of American Psycho, another Time 100 best novel, but the fact that this novel, A Clockwork Orange was written in 1962 and all the four of them are 15 years old makes this as chilling and sad as American Psycho.Part II basically talks about the cure for the violent-tendency of Alex while he is being cured in the jail hospital. The cure is called Ludovico Technique which is based on Pavlovian principle. While listening to classical music and showed pictures of violence, Alex is given drugs to induce extreme nausea. The result is that when he feels like committing violence he would feel sick and nauseous. Part III talks about Alex's transformation towards better life. Chapter 7 in other editions of this book is omitted because the US publishers in the 60's, felt that the Alex's full transformation to a better man tames the whole point of shocking violence and apathy. However, luckily, my Penguin edition has this last chapter.Overall, this is a strange nice novel. The only reason why I rated this with a star less than perfect is the initial difficulty I had understanding those words. However, I understand to point of having this always dated and it also muffles the impact of violence (like what American Psycho does so it got 1 star rating from me). It also ended nicely what with Alex transformation from a criminal to somebody who looks forward to become a father someday.As for the meaning of the title, Burgess gave 3 explanations: the phrase "as queer as a clockwork orange" that he heard in an English pub; orange comes from the word "monkey" in Malay where he worked as a young soldier; and he also said that the title is a metaphor for "...an organic entity, full of juice and sweetness and agreeable odour, being turned into an automaton."The reading of the book is in the language. Nadsat language that is. Brilliant but risky thing to do for a writer. But it worked well for Burges making this the strangest but one of the most beautiful novels I've ever read.
What do You think about A Clockwork Orange (1995)?
3.5/5Modern Library, Time Magazine, 1001 Books to Read Before You Die, The Guardian 1000, McCaffery, Barthelme, decoders of descendants of Rabelais, deciders of classics and producers of TV shows, all kowtowers to this work, one that says even more about the day and age when it is known that the last chapter was cut out of both US books and British movies for being too 'redeeming', leastwise till '86 rolled around and the editions reverted back to the intended 21, mark of the age of adulthood here in the States, if nowhere else. I wouldn't have known that last bit had not my own edition been one of the shortchanged, but the last chapter is easily found online these days, virulently popular thing that it is.There are books I value more for my resulting recalibration processes than my instinctive appreciation. This is one of them. ..but it was like nice to go on knowing one was making the news all the time, O my brothers. Every day there was something about Modern Youth...What's one relationship between comic books and video games? One, and in my mind the most important one, is the common outcry against the two media as propagators of violence in our youth and sundry, along with movies and rap music and anything else the generation currently in power didn't have their fill of to the tune of "Back in my day...!" You don't hear much about the former, of course, because it has been long ago and long appropriated by the new ringleaders of our sensationalist news and persnickety papers. You don't hear anything at all about the military industrial complex and its enormous sway on life, livelihood, and politics. And god forbid the word 'patriarchy' mutters its way across any amplified platform, for a gutpunch of 'Feminists!' and 'Intellectuals!' and 'America haters!' is guaranteed.I don't like violence. I can deal it out if needed, I can watch it for as long as necessary, and it's been a long time since the smell of blood and guts phased me in any physical way, but I still don't like it. I especially don't like violence being excused as the format of a particular message, no matter how potent or powerful or prescient. It's the bread and butter of the patriarchy, it's a rat race glorified for its seeming eternity in the context of a bell jar, it's been done to death and will continue to rear its ugly head so long as humanity forgoes empathy for the individuals. This particular edition's afterword calls the book's government a socialist one. I say capitalism runs red just as easily.All that made for my not liking the book very much. Sure, it's praised to high heaven and the linguistic acrobatics were rather nifty, but neither aspect appeals much to my humanity. For in the end, whatever chapter your edition ends with, it's far too easy to trap oneself in the book's dichotomy of free violence vs. emasculated peace; the fact that the word 'emasculated' exists in the first place without a consequential converse of 'enfeminated' and the like guarantees the world's bloodlusty cry of an answer from the get-go. What is needed is to break down the boundaries of this book completely and branch out into areas where the interplay is not always one of beat downer and beaten down, but of a realization that beating should be condemned, period. Boys don't beat up girls out of the chivalric urge of pedestal pinning (for however long that wins out against the objectifying need for proof of masculinity), but boys shouldn't be beating up boys either. If you don't want to deal with the aftermath embodied in A Clockwork Orange, don't breed them from birth.Am I a weak-willed pussy for saying that? Sure, why not. One, the pussy is one of the strongest and most resilient muscles in the human body, unlike the much praised balls that do the frightened snail whenever there's the smallest drop in temperature. Two, all that contemptuous passive aggressive pansy scaredy-cat etc etc of the schoolyard catcalls and business place joshing? It's bullshit. Utter bullshit. If baby-boomers want to know where all their sweet children have grown their fangs and spines, look no further than their "Back in my day...!" tripe.Finally, I liked the bits warning about governments deeming what is to be punished and acting accordingly, I really did. However, as it would take a sizeable US-centric leap to the current prisoner pipeline 'War on Drugs' fiasco of racial disenfranchisement and constitutionalized slavery (look up the 13th Amendment if you don't believe me), it's too much of a free range cliché for me to accredit. I can't fault Burgess for not knowing about it as much as I do, but that was then. US readers of today need to be connecting the dots, and until that happens, this book is as much of a cauterization as it is a plague.
—Aubrey
I'm updating this after reading Burgess' autobiography, "You've Had Your Time." He did write the book after WWII (he was a pilot). While he was away, his wife claimed that she had been gang-raped by four American GIs who broke into their home. Burgess wavers in his belief of this event taking place; the perpetrators were never found. He also frequently accuses his wife of cheating on him and expresses an intense desire to cheat on her with younger women. He also spends a great deal of time slamm
—Lindsay
A Clockwork Orange is one of those books which everyone has heard of but which few people have actually read –- mostly, I think, because it is preceded by a reputation of shocking ultra-violence. I’m not going to deny here that the book contains violence. It features lengthy descriptions of heinous crimes, and they’re vivid descriptions, full of excitement. (Burgess later wrote in his autobiography: ‘I was sickened by my own excitement at setting it down.’) Yet it does not glorify violence, nor is it a book about violence per se. Rather it’s an exploration of the morality of free will. Of whether it is better to choose to be bad than to be conditioned to be good. Of alienation and how to deal with the excesses to which such alienation may lead. And ultimately, of one man’s decision to say goodbye to all that. (At least in the UK version. The American version, on which Stanley Kubrick’s film adaptation was based, ends on a less optimistic note.) In short, it’s a novella of ideas which just happens to contain a fair bit of violence.It is also quite an artistic and linguistic achievement. Those who have seen the film will know that Alex (the anti-hero) and his droogs (friends) speak a made-up language full of Russian loanwords, Shakespearean and Biblical influences and Cockney rhyming slang. Initially this nadsat language was nearly incomprehensible to me, and my first response to it was bad. I found myself cursing Burgess, telling him that it wasn’t fair to put his readers through something like that. (If I want to read an incomprehensible book, I’ll read Finnegans Wake, thank you very much.) However, Burgess takes great care to introduce his new words in an understandable way, so after a few pages I got the hang of the nadsat lingo, and after a few more pages I actually began to enjoy it, because I’m enough of a linguist to go in for that sort of thing. I found myself loving the Russian loanwords, rejoicing when I recognised a German loanword among them and enjoying the Shakespearean quality of Alex’ dialogues. I finished the book with an urgent wish to learn Russian and read more Shakespeare. I doubt many readers will respond to the book in that way (not everyone shares my enthusiasm for languages and classical stuff), but my point is: you’ll get used to the lingo, and at some point you’ll begin to admire it, because for one thing, Burgess is awfully consistent about it, and for another, it just sounds so damned good. I mean, if you’re going to come up with a new word for ‘crazy’, you might as well choose bezoomny, right? Because it actually sounds mad. Doesn’t it?Anyhow, there’s more to A Clockwork Orange than just philosophical ideas and linguistic pyrotechnics. The writing itself is unexpectedly lyrical, and not just when it deals with violence. Some of the most beautiful passages in the book deal with music. More specifically, classical music, because for all his wicked ways, Alex has a passion for classical music. He particularly adores Beethoven, an adoration I happen to share. I came away from the book thinking I might consent to becoming Alex’ devotchka (woman, wife) simply because he is capable of getting carried away by Beethoven’s Ninth and hates having it spoilt for him. He’s cultured, is Alex, and while his culturedness obviously does not equal civilisation and goodness (a point he himself is quick to make), it does put him a notch above the average hooligan. It’s the apparent dichotomy between Alex’ tastes in art and his taste for violence which makes him such an interesting protagonist and which keeps you following his exploits to their not entirely believable (but good) conclusion.In short, then, A Clockwork Orange is an excellent book –- a bit challenging at first, but gripping and interesting and full of style and ideas. Not many books can claim as much.
—Martine
