1984

Part Two, Chapter 2

George Orwell · Mountaineers 10th–12th

Teaching Companion Print Adapt for your student

Copywork

The sweetness of the air and the greenness of the leaves daunted him. Already on the walk from the station the May sunshine had made him feel dirty and etiolated, a creature of indoors, with the sooty dust of London in the pores of his skin. It occurred to him that till now she had probably never seen him in broad daylight in the open.

An old, close-bitten pasture, with a footpath wandering across it and a molehill here and there. In the ragged hedge on the opposite side the boughs of the elm trees swayed just perceptibly in the breeze, and their leaves stirred faintly in dense masses like women’s hair. Surely somewhere nearby, but out of sight, there must be a stream with green pools where dace were swimming?

The field in the second passage is the one from Winston’s dream, and the stream he guesses is really there. Yet he calls it “the Golden Country – almost.” What stands between this field and the one in his dream?

For the educator Two passages, six sentences. The first comes on the path into the wood, just after Julia appears. Its subject is two pleasant nouns, “The sweetness of the air and the greenness of the leaves”, and only the verb, “daunted”, turns them against him. The next opens on “Already”, piles up what he feels (“dirty and etiolated”), adds a phrase with no verb, “a creature of indoors”, and ends on London’s dust “in the pores of his skin.” The third lets a thought arrive (“It occurred to him that”) and closes on two phrases of being exposed: “in broad daylight in the open.” The second passage comes at the edge of the wood. It opens on a sentence with no main verb at all, a list of what he sees. The next joins two slow movements with “and”, “swayed just perceptibly” and “stirred faintly”, and ends on a comparison, “like women’s hair”. The last is a question he puts to himself, opening on “Surely” and setting off “but out of sight” with commas: he sees what he cannot yet see. Students copying them practise a long subject turned by one verb, a sentence opening on “Already”, a phrase without a verb set beside a noun, a thought introduced by “It occurred to him that”, a sentence with no main verb, two clauses joined by “and” ending on a comparison, and a question that opens on “Surely”. Set side by side, the passages give two places: the London dust on his skin, and the field he knows from a dream. For the talk prompt, listen for more than one reading. One says the gap is fear: just before he sees the field, Julia stops him with “Don’t go out into the open. There might be someone watching.” They look at the dream country through leaves and do not walk into it. Another says the gap is only that the field is real, and it closes as the day goes on: the stream he guesses at is there, and later her gesture comes “almost as in his dream”, so “almost” is the word of a man who cannot believe his luck. A third notices what he does with the dream: he has told her his age and his worst thought, but of this he says only “It’s nothing, really.” A strong student may hear the dream’s “almost” come back in the clearing: “almost as in his dream”, then “Almost as swiftly as he had imagined it”. Keep to the page: the chapter shows the field, the stream, the fish and the gesture from the dream, and an answer needs no more of the dream than that. Do not let the field pass as pretty scenery; Winston has seen it before.

Discussion

Narration Tell back the afternoon, from the bluebells by the footpath, through the clearing and the edge of the wood, to Julia asleep and what Winston thinks as he watches her.

Winston starts picking bluebells partly to pass the time, and partly as a gift for her. When a foot cracks a twig behind him, he keeps picking, because “To look round was to show guilt.” By the time the flowers fall from his hands, what are they for? Inference
Julia blames her sash for what Winston thought of her: “It’s this bloody thing that does it.” Once it is off, her waist seems softer to him. What was the sash doing to him? Character
Winston starts by telling Julia the worst about himself, even that he once thought of killing her. Then her chocolate stirs the memory of something he did and would undo if he could. He pushes it away. Why can he say the worst out loud but not look at this? Character
Winston watches the thrush “with a sort of vague reverence.” Then he wonders whether a hidden microphone is picking up its song. Why does his mind go there, of all moments? Inference
Winston cries out that he hates purity and goodness, and wants everyone “corrupt to the bones.” Julia answers, “Well then, I ought to suit you, dear.” How seriously is she taking him? Tone

Make a Connection Winston thinks that in the old days love and desire were simple. Think of a love story from another time, in a book, a play or a song. Was love as simple there as Winston thinks it was?

Vocabulary

etiolated: Already on the walk from the station the May sunshine had made him feel dirty and etiolated, a creature of indoors, with the sooty dust of London in the pores of his skin. Pale and weak from being kept out of the light, like a plant grown in a cupboard (French étioler, to make pale). In the May sunshine Winston feels etiolated, “a creature of indoors”, beside a girl with a “strong slender body”. It is a gardener’s word, and it makes him a plant that has never seen the sun.
perceptibly: In the ragged hedge on the opposite side the boughs of the elm trees swayed just perceptibly in the breeze, and their leaves stirred faintly in dense masses like women’s hair. Enough to be noticed, but only just (Latin percipere, to take hold of, to notice). The elm boughs sway “just perceptibly”: a movement so small that only someone looking hard would see it. Winston is looking that hard, because he has seen this field before, in a dream.
obeisance: It spread out its wings, fitted them carefully into place again, ducked its head for a moment, as though making a sort of obeisance to the sun, and then began to pour forth a torrent of song. A bow or other movement that shows deep respect (Old French obeissance, obedience). The thrush ducks its head “as though making a sort of obeisance to the sun”. The word makes the song something close to worship, which fits the “vague reverence” Winston feels as he watches.
strenuousness: Who knew, perhaps the Party was rotten under the surface, its cult of strenuousness and self-denial simply a sham concealing iniquity. Great effort and hard work, kept up without rest (Latin strenuus, brisk, active). Winston calls the Party’s show of effort and self-denial a “cult of strenuousness”, and hopes it is only a sham. Julia’s “I never shirk anything” is that strenuousness worn as a disguise.
undifferentiated: Not merely the love of one person, but the animal instinct, the simple undifferentiated desire: that was the force that would tear the Party to pieces. All the same, with no part picked out from the rest (Latin differre, to carry apart, with English un-, not). Winston wants from Julia not merely “the love of one person” but desire that is undifferentiated: not aimed at him, not at anyone in particular. He wants more than a person: he wants a force.

Critical thinking

Julia’s swearing seems to Winston “natural and healthy.” Yet her open hatred of the Party makes him uneasy, even in the wood. Why would her hatred unsettle a man who hates the Party too?
Winston ends the afternoon by calling what happened “a political act.” Is he right, or does that label miss what he felt under the hazel trees?