Part Two, Chapter 2 — Teaching Companion

What it asks It asks the student to follow one bunch of flowers through the first part of the afternoon. Winston kneels and picks bluebells “partly to pass the time away, but also from a vague idea that he would like to have a bunch of flowers to offer to the girl”. Then comes “the unmistakable crackle of a foot on twigs”. It might be the girl, or he might have been followed, so he goes on picking: “He picked another and another.” A hand falls on his shoulder, and he follows her through the wood “still clasping his bunch of flowers.” In the clearing, just before he takes her hand, “The bluebells had cascaded onto the ground. They seemed to have fallen of their own accord.” The student decides what the flowers have become by then. The card must not say he ever gives them to her, since the chapter does not.

One reading

A disguise. The gift turned into cover the moment the twig cracked. He picks “another and another” so that he will not look round, and he is still holding them as he follows her, as if he has forgotten to stop. Fear gave the flowers a job, and they keep doing it after the danger has passed. The gift is never handed over.

• He went on picking bluebells.
• Winston followed, still clasping his bunch of flowers.

Another reading

Nothing any more, and that is the point. They have fallen by the time he finally takes her hand, once she has told him “We’re all right here.” He needs no gift and no cover now. Letting go of them is the first thing he does that afternoon without a plan, and the flowers stay on as part of the place: she pulls one out of her hair.

• They seemed to have fallen of their own accord.
• The girl picked herself up and pulled a bluebell out of her hair.

Listen for

• Weighs the word “vague”. The gift was only ever “a vague idea”, half a plan beside passing the time.
• Notices that the flowers are not simply lovely. Their scent is “faint sickly”, and they grow so thick “that it was impossible not to tread on them.”
• Weighs “To look round was to show guilt.” Alone in a wood, Winston still acts innocent for a watcher who may not be there.
• Keeps to the page: Julia never mentions the flowers, and the chapter never says he offers them.

If stuck

• What does Winston do with the flowers after the hand falls on his shoulder?
• What does he do when he hears the twig crack behind him?
• Can the same act be a gift and a disguise at once?

A strong answer A strong response says what the bluebells have become by the time they fall, and argues from the footpath and the clearing. One reader says a disguise: from the twig on, he picks so as not to look round, and he is still “clasping” them as he follows her, so fear has taken the gift over. Another says nothing at all: they fall “of their own accord” just before he takes her hand, because he no longer needs a gift or a cover. The best answers weigh how “vague” the gift was, notice the “sickly” scent, and do not claim he gives them to her.

What it asks It asks the student to read the sash of the Junior Anti-Sex League as Winston feels it, before and after. On the path he watches “the strong slender body moving in front of him”, with the sash tight enough to show her shape, and “the sense of his own inferiority was heavy upon him.” In the clearing he confesses that he hated her and once thought of smashing her head in with a cobblestone. She laughs “delightedly”, taking it as “a tribute to the excellence of her disguise”, and blames the sash: “It’s this bloody thing that does it.” She rips it off and flings it onto a bough. Later, walking with their arms round each other, “He noticed how much softer her waist seemed to feel now that the sash was gone.” The student says what the sash was doing to him. The card must not give Julia’s surname, or say that she sees the sash in political terms; she treats it as a disguise.

One reading

Keeping him away. The sash is the League’s sign of purity, and it worked on him just as it was meant to. He took her for a true believer, and hated her for it. Julia names exactly what he thought. Once the sign is off, the warning goes with it, and what felt stiff with rules feels soft.

• You thought I was a good Party member. Pure in word and deed.
• It’s this bloody thing that does it

Another reading

Pulling him in and pushing him back at the same time. The sign of chastity is tight enough to show her body, and on the path, watching it, he feels “the sense of his own inferiority”. The sash held the body and the ban on it together. The softness he feels afterwards may be in his own arm: her waist only “seemed to feel” softer.

• His first feeling was relief, but as he watched the strong slender body moving in front of him, with the scarlet sash that was just tight enough to bring out the curve of her hips, the sense of his own inferiority was heavy upon him.
• He noticed how much softer her waist seemed to feel now that the sash was gone.

Listen for

• Hears what follows the sash at once: as though touching her waist had reminded her, she brings out the chocolate, so the League’s sign comes off and the black market comes out in one movement.
• Weighs “seemed to feel”: the narrator does not say her waist is softer. Did she change, or did his touch?
• Notices the laugh. She is delighted to have been hated, because it proves the costume works. A student may ask what kind of person is pleased by that.
• Keeps to the page: Julia speaks of the sash as a disguise and nothing more, and a good answer works from what she says and does.

If stuck

• What is the sash, and what does wearing it tell people?
• What did Winston think of Julia before today, and what made him think it?
• Can a piece of clothing change how someone feels to you?

A strong answer A strong response says what the sash was doing to Winston and argues from the path and the clearing. One reader says it kept him away: it told him she was “Pure in word and deed”, and Julia herself blames it, “It’s this bloody thing that does it.” Another says it did two things at once: it showed her shape and forbade it, and on the path it left him with “the sense of his own inferiority”. The best answers weigh “seemed to feel”, notice that the chocolate comes out as the sash comes off, and do not give Julia views she does not state.

What it asks It asks the student to set two moments in the clearing side by side. Asked what he thought of her before the note, Winston feels no “temptation to tell lies to her”: “It was even a sort of love-offering to start off by telling the worst.” He has already listed his age, his wife, his varicose veins and his five false teeth; now he tells her he hated her and once thought of smashing her head in with a cobblestone. Julia laughs. Minutes later she gives him half her chocolate. “Even before he had taken it he knew by the smell that it was very unusual chocolate”, and “The first whiff of its scent had stirred up some memory which he could not pin down, but which was powerful and troubling.” While she talks, the memory stays “like an object seen out of the corner of one’s eye”, and “He pushed it away from him, aware only that it was the memory of some action which he would have liked to undo but could not.” The student explains why he can say the worst aloud but will not look at this. The card must not say what the memory is; the chapter keeps it “not reducible to definite shape.”

One reading

Because what he confessed were thoughts, and this is a deed. Everything he tells her is something he felt or pictured: hate, a wish, a plan with a cobblestone. Thoughts can be handed over, and she laughs at them. The memory is of “some action”, something done that he “would have liked to undo but could not.” Saying a thought aloud takes some of its weight away; saying a deed aloud would only make it real.

• Two weeks ago I thought seriously of smashing your head in with a cobblestone.
• He pushed it away from him, aware only that it was the memory of some action which he would have liked to undo but could not.

Another reading

Because he cannot see it, and he chooses not to. The confession was a gift he could shape: the worst he knew, laid out in order. The memory will not take a shape at all. To look at it straight would be to find out what it is. On the day he stops hiding from one person, he goes on hiding from himself.

• It was even a sort of love-offering to start off by telling the worst.
• But there was still that memory moving round the edges of his consciousness, something strongly felt but not reducible to definite shape, like an object seen out of the corner of one’s eye.

Listen for

• Notices that the smell comes first: he knows the chocolate “by the smell” before he takes it, and “The first whiff” stirs the memory.
• Hears where the chocolate comes from. It is Julia’s, from the black market, brought out the moment the League’s sash comes off: her gift to him, minutes after his “love-offering” to her.
• Hears the footpath in it. There he went on picking rather than look round; here he sees the memory only “out of the corner of one’s eye” and does not turn to it.
• Keeps to the page: the chapter never says what the memory is, and a good answer does not guess.

If stuck

• What does Winston tell Julia about himself, and why does he start with the worst?
• What happens in his mind when he smells and tastes the chocolate?
• Is it easier to tell someone a bad thought you had, or a bad thing you did?

A strong answer A strong response explains why Winston can confess the worst but pushes the memory away, and argues from the confession and the chocolate paragraphs. One reader says the difference is thought against deed: he confesses what he felt and pictured, and she laughs, but the memory is of “some action” he cannot undo. Another says he cannot confess what he cannot see, and he chooses not to look: the memory stays at “the edges of his consciousness” and he pushes it away. The best answers notice that the smell comes first, hear the habit of not looking round from the footpath, and never say what the memory is.

What it asks It asks the student to explain a turn of thought at the chapter’s most beautiful moment. A thrush lands on a bough “not five metres away” and pours out its song, “never once repeating itself”. Winston and Julia cling together, “fascinated”. He asks himself, “For whom, for what, was that bird singing?” No mate or rival is watching it. Then: “He wondered whether after all there was a microphone hidden somewhere near.” Their whispers are too low for it, but “it would pick up the thrush”, and he pictures “some small, beetle-like man” listening at the other end. Then “by degrees the flood of music drove all speculations out of his mind.” The student explains why the microphone comes into his head just then. The card must not say a microphone is there; Winston only wonders.

One reading

Habit. Fear is where his mind rests, and it comes back fastest when he is off guard. All day he has checked: backward glances on the walk from the station, Julia’s talk of mikes in the lane. The moment he feels something close to holy, he checks for the listener, as he checked for followers.

• However, no patrols had appeared, and on the walk from the station he had made sure by cautious backward glances that he was not being followed.
• He wondered whether after all there was a microphone hidden somewhere near.

Another reading

Scorn. The thought is close to a joke at the Party’s expense. Their whispers are safe; the machine would catch only the bird. He pictures a small man bent over his instrument, straining to hear birdsong. Set beside the song, the watching looks small and silly, and then the music washes it away.

• Perhaps at the other end of the instrument some small, beetle-like man was listening intently – listening to that
• But by degrees the flood of music drove all speculations out of his mind.

Listen for

• Hears the question just before: “For whom, for what, was that bird singing?” The song is for no one, and at once Winston imagines someone it might reach.
• Weighs “listening intently – listening to that”: the sentence says “listening” twice, as if he turns back to stare at the picture.
• Notices that the thought does not win. The music drives it out, and only then does he stop thinking.
• Keeps to the page: the chapter never says a microphone is there, and the beetle-like man is Winston’s picture.

If stuck

• What is the thrush doing, and how do Winston and Julia react?
• What would a hidden microphone pick up, and what would it miss?
• Why might fear come back just when you feel safest?

A strong answer A strong response explains why the microphone enters Winston’s mind at the height of the song, and argues from the hazel bushes. One reader says habit: he has checked for watchers all day, and fear returns when he is most off guard. Another says scorn: the microphone would catch only the bird, and the “beetle-like man” straining at birdsong makes the Party look small. The best answers hear the question “For whom, for what” just before it, notice that the music drives the thought out, and never claim the microphone is real.

What it asks It asks the student to hear Julia’s voice against Winston’s. Back in the clearing, she tells him she has done this “scores of times”, always with Party members. His heart leaps; “Anything that hinted at corruption always filled him with a wild hope.” He tells her, “The more men you’ve had, the more I love you. Do you understand that?” She says, “Yes, perfectly.” Then he cries, “I hate purity, I hate goodness! I don’t want any virtue to exist anywhere.” Her answer takes his own phrase: “Well then, I ought to suit you, dear. I’m corrupt to the bones.” Asked if she likes “the thing in itself”, she says, “I adore it.” The student judges how seriously she takes his speech. The card must not take Winston’s outburst as the author’s view, and must not say Julia calls the afternoon political.

One reading

Lightly. She is teasing him. Her answers are short and cool beside his speeches, and she calls him “dear”, as she did when his first embrace came to nothing. In the clearing she had already watched him with an ironical smile. He builds a theory; she turns his words into a joke and gets on with the afternoon.

• She stood before him very upright, with a smile on her face that looked faintly ironical, as though she were wondering why he was so slow to act.
• Never mind, dear. There’s no hurry.

Another reading

Seriously, in her own way. She means every word, just not his words. She has done this “scores of times”, and she says plainly that she adores it. She does not need his speech: her pleasure needs no reason beyond itself.

• Of course. Hundreds of times – well, scores of times, anyway.
• I adore it.

Listen for

• Hears her give his phrase straight back: he wants everyone “corrupt to the bones”, and she says she is.
• Weighs “Yes, perfectly.” Does she understand more than he says, or less, or not care?
• Notices what he wanted above all to hear: not merely “the love of one person” but “the animal instinct”. He is gladder of “I adore it” than of anything she says about him.
• Keeps to the page: the cry against purity is Winston’s, made against the Party’s rules, and neither the chapter nor Julia says goodness is bad in itself.

If stuck

• What does Winston say about purity and goodness?
• How does Julia answer, and what does she call him?
• Can someone agree with you and still be laughing at you a little?

A strong answer A strong response judges how seriously Julia takes Winston’s speech, and argues from the clearing. One reader says lightly: her answers are short, she calls him “dear”, and she gives his phrase back as a joke, with the same ironical smile she wore earlier. Another says seriously but differently: she means what she says, “scores of times” and “I adore it”, but her pleasure needs no theory. The best answers notice that what he wanted above all to hear was “I adore it”, and keep the outburst as Winston’s, not the book’s.

What it asks It asks the student to explain one small, odd reaction in the clearing. Julia has told him why she picked him: “As soon as I saw you I knew you were against them.” “Them” means the Party, “and above all the Inner Party, about whom she talked with an open jeering hatred which made Winston feel uneasy, although he knew that they were safe here if they could be safe anywhere.” Her swearing does not bother him. Party members “were supposed not to swear”, and Winston “very seldom did swear, aloud, at any rate”, yet hers seems “natural and healthy, like the sneeze of a horse that smells bad hay.” Minutes earlier she has listed her loyal life, from troop-leader in the Spies to “Always yell with the crowd”. Later he will think, “Anything to rot, to weaken, to undermine!” The student builds a thesis on why her hatred unsettles a man who hates the Party too, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not say Julia shares Winston’s political reading of the afternoon, and must not say how the affair goes.

One reading

Because it is said out loud. Winston’s hatred has lived in silence: backward glances, picking flowers rather than looking round, swearing kept inside. Hers is spoken, and jeering. He knows the clearing is safe, but the habit that kept him from looking round on the footpath does not switch off because he knows it. Hearing his own secret said aloud is frightening, even from her.

• Them , it appeared, meant the Party, and above all the Inner Party, about whom she talked with an open jeering hatred which made Winston feel uneasy, although he knew that they were safe here if they could be safe anywhere.
• Winston himself very seldom did swear, aloud, at any rate.

Another reading

Because it is a different hatred from his. Hers jeers at people, “those swine”, and sits easily beside the banner, the cheerful face and the rule of yelling with the crowd. His is an idea about the whole system, and he wants it brought down. A hatred that lives so comfortably inside the Party’s life makes him unsure what kind of rebel he has found.

• Always yell with the crowd, that’s what I say. It’s the only way to be safe.
• Anything to rot, to weaken, to undermine!

Listen for

• Hears the two reactions side by side: the hatred makes him “uneasy”, the swearing seems “natural and healthy”. What is the difference between the words and the hatred behind them?
• Weighs “although he knew that they were safe here”. If he knows he is safe, the unease is not only fear of a microphone.
• Notices how Winston explains her to himself: the swearing is “merely one symptom of her revolt against the Party and all its ways”. He reads her through his own politics. A student may ask whether she would put it that way.
• Revises by asking what the unease says about Winston rather than Julia. A strong revision may hold that he is used to a hatred that thinks and stays silent, and hers jeers aloud and needs no theory.

If stuck

• How does Julia talk about the Party, and what words does she use?
• What does Winston feel about her swearing, and what does he feel about her hatred?
• Can someone who agrees with you still make you nervous by the way they say it?

A strong answer A strong response states why Julia’s hatred unsettles Winston, meets the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says it is the open voice: his hatred has lived silently, and the habit of hiding does not switch off, “although he knew that they were safe here”. The strongest objection is that her swearing, just as open, seems to him “natural and healthy”, so loudness alone cannot be the cause. A good revision might hold that it is the kind of hatred: hers jeers at “those swine” while she yells with the crowd, his wants “to rot, to weaken, to undermine” the whole Party, and he cannot yet tell what her rebellion is for.

What it asks It asks the student to judge the chapter’s last thought against the afternoon before it. Watching Julia sleep, Winston feels “a pitying, protecting feeling. But the mindless tenderness that he had felt under the hazel tree, while the thrush was singing, had not quite come back.” He thinks that “In the old days” desire was simple, “But you could not have pure love or pure lust nowadays.” Then: “Their embrace had been a battle, the climax a victory. It was a blow struck against the Party. It was a political act.” Earlier, under the hazel bushes, the song had driven out his thoughts: “He stopped thinking and merely felt.” The student builds a thesis on whether his label is right, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not say Julia calls the afternoon political, must not say a microphone is there, and must not say how the affair goes.

One reading

He is right. The Party has made desire a crime, so in this world it cannot stay private. Everything about the day was shaped by the Party’s watching: the hide-out where no mike could fit, the whispering, the sash on the bough. Winston had thought out what the act meant before it happened, and the label only names it.

• 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.
• No emotion was pure, because everything was mixed up with fear and hatred.

Another reading

The label misses it. The best moment of the day had no politics in it. Under the hazel, with the thrush, he stopped thinking, and the kisses were “quite different” from the hard ones before. The label comes only after that tenderness has gone, and even then he feels “a pitying, protecting feeling” that no battle explains. The political act is what his mind makes of the day once the feeling has faded.

• He stopped thinking and merely felt.
• But the mindless tenderness that he had felt under the hazel tree, while the thrush was singing, had not quite come back.

Listen for

• Traces how his feelings shift: “incredulity and pride” in the first embrace, the thrush, “a pitying, protecting feeling” as she sleeps, then the battle. Where does he feel, and where does he reason?
• Hears the last sentences grow shorter, down to “It was a political act.” The thought hardens as it goes.
• Weighs “In the old days, he thought”: a claim about a time he never lived in. Is “No emotion was pure” true of the world, or of Winston?
• Revises by noticing that Julia never calls any of it political. The world may make the act political, and Winston may still choose to call it nothing else.

If stuck

• When in the afternoon does Winston stop thinking?
• What does he decide about the afternoon while she sleeps?
• Can one act be both a private feeling and a public blow?

A strong answer A strong response states whether “a political act” is the right name for the afternoon, meets the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says he is right: the Party has made desire a crime, the whole day was shaped by its watching, and he had thought of desire as “the force that would tear the Party to pieces” before the act. The strongest objection is the thrush: under the hazel “He stopped thinking and merely felt”, and the label comes only when that tenderness “had not quite come back”. A good revision might hold that the world makes the act political, but the label is Winston’s choice, and leaves out the “pitying, protecting feeling” he still has as she sleeps.