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1984
Mountaineers · 10th–12th
Winston decides that the best books tell you what you know already. Has reading Goldstein made him stronger, or only more comfortable?
The tension The man who spent a week anxious “that the forgery should be perfect” ends the same week certain that “if you clung to the truth even against the whole world, you were not mad”; and while he reads in “bliss”, Julia, who asked him to read aloud and explain, drifts off before “the central secret”.
Notice how Winston spends the week of Hate Week and how he spends the free afternoon after it, and what each leaves him feeling.
The chapter opens on Winston, drained by more than ninety hours of work in five days, walking to Mr Charrington’s shop with a heavy brief-case. Inside is the book, which he has carried for six days and not yet opened. It then goes back to the sixth day of Hate Week. At a night rally in a London square, an Inner Party orator is listing the crimes of Eurasia when a scrap of paper is slipped into his hand. Without pausing, he goes on with the same speech, but the enemy is now Eastasia and Eurasia is an ally. The crowd decides that the posters with “the wrong faces” are the work of Goldstein’s agents and tears them down, and within minutes the Hate goes on as before. In the confusion a man whose face Winston does not see hands him the brief-case. Looking back, what impresses Winston is that the speaker switched in mid-sentence “without even breaking the syntax.” The staff of the Ministry of Truth go straight back to work. For six days they rewrite every record so that no reference to the war with Eurasia remains, working eighteen hours in the twenty-four and sleeping on mattresses in the corridors. Winston is not troubled that every word he puts into the speakwrite is a lie; he is as anxious as anyone that the forgery should be perfect. When it is done, no one can prove by documents that the war with Eurasia ever happened. Given the afternoon free, he climbs to the room above the shop, puts water on for coffee and opens the book: The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism, by Emmanuel Goldstein. He reads the opening of Chapter I, stops simply to enjoy reading in safety, and skips to Chapter III, “War is Peace”, which explains the endless war between three super-states as a way to use up the products of industry and keep the Party’s mood at fever pitch. The book reassures him more than it fascinates him: it tells him nothing new, but says what he would have said if he could have set his thoughts in order. Julia arrives after more than a week apart and shows little interest in the book. In bed, she asks him to read it aloud and explain it as he goes. He reads on through Chapter I: the High, the Middle and the Low, the Party’s structure, the alteration of the past and doublethink. As the book reaches “the central secret”, the motive behind it all, he finds that Julia has been asleep for some time. He shuts the book and lies down. He has learned how, but not why. Yet he knows better than before that he is not mad, and that clinging to the truth against the whole world does not make a person mad. With the sun on his face and Julia beside him, he feels safe and confident, and falls asleep murmuring “Sanity is not statistical.”
Before reading, remind the student that Winston has been waiting for a copy of Goldstein’s book, and that he and Julia meet in the room above Mr Charrington’s shop. Then read the chapter in four stretches: the walk and the rally, to “except that the target had been changed.”; the brief-case and the week of rewriting, to “barely more than tepid.”; Winston alone with the book, through Chapter III, to “since they had seen one another.”; and the reading aloud to Julia, to the end. The two passages from the book are long. Let the student read them through, but keep the talk on what reading them does to Winston rather than on Goldstein’s argument. In each stretch, mark one moment where Winston feels sure of something and one where something is left unsaid. Leave open what the chapter leaves open: who wrote the book and whether it is true, why the Party wants power, and what happens to Winston and Julia next.
Retell The student retells the chapter in the order things happened, not the order the chapter tells them: the rally and the switch from Eurasia to Eastasia, the brief-case handed over in the confusion, the six days of rewriting, the free afternoon, Winston alone with Chapters I and III, Julia’s arrival, the reading aloud, Julia asleep before “the central secret”, and Winston falling asleep. Look for the week of forgery, which a hurried retelling skips on the way to the book, and for the detail that Winston, not Julia, closes the book.
Imitate the author After copying, the student writes two short passages of their own, one about a hard task and one about the relief after it. The first is three sentences: a comparison that splits into two clauses pulling against each other, as “the right to refuse” and “nevertheless neurotically anxious” do; a sentence that opens on a hedge, holds its main clause back, and sets two parallel phrases before a short, flat verdict; and one plain sentence. The second is three sentences: one that runs a correction on after a comma, as “it had merely systematised” does; one that turns on “But”; and one that repeats a word and narrows it, as “a minority, even a minority of one” does.
Debate Take sides on the last written question. One side argues that the book has made Winston stronger, and gathers “Being in a minority, even a minority of one, did not make you mad”, “it had merely systematised the knowledge that he possessed already”, and the week of erasing a war from every record that makes such a reminder matter. The other argues that it has made him only more comfortable, and gathers “The best books, he perceived, are those that tell you what you know already”, “The book fascinated him, or more exactly it reassured him”, “Solitude and safety were physical sensations”, the sun and Julia’s body, and the why he did not read. Each side must answer the other’s best line, and both must deal with the week he spent anxious that the forgery should be perfect. Neither may supply the Party’s motive, say who wrote the book, or reach ahead to what happens next.
Purpose Close on two sentences at either end of Winston’s week. Near the start, the orator changes the enemy “without even breaking the syntax”. Near the end, the book breaks off in the middle of the sentence that would give the why: “This motive really consists…” Ask why Orwell might frame the chapter between a sentence that changes everything without a break and one that breaks before it can change anything, and what that shape does to the last line, where Winston falls asleep sure of “a profound wisdom”. Keep the answer to what this chapter shows.
Easier Read the chapter aloud in its four stretches, and skim the book’s long passages if needed. As you go, list two columns: what Winston does during the week, and what he feels on the free afternoon. Talk through the third and fifth discussion questions, then answer the last written question aloud, using the two columns, before writing it.
On level Talk through all five discussion questions in order, then write both written questions as a thesis, the strongest objection and a revised thesis, each with lines from the chapter.
Harder Ask for one argued essay on the two copied passages read side by side: is “The best books, he perceived, are those that tell you what you know already” a reader’s wisdom or a reader’s trap for the man in the first passage? The essay should use “neurotically anxious”, “a deliberate lie”, “merely systematised” and “even a minority of one”, and should meet the objection that a man alone against the whole world may need reassurance more than news. It must not supply the Party’s motive or reach ahead to what happens to Winston.
1. The first thing Winston enjoys in this chapter is a word that fits how tired he is: “Gelatinous was the right word.” Why might Orwell begin with that small pleasure?Author's choice
What it asks It asks the student to read the chapter’s first lines. Before the rally, the week of rewriting or the book, Winston is walking to the shop: “Winston was gelatinous with fatigue. Gelatinous was the right word. It had come into his head spontaneously. His body seemed to have not only the weakness of a jelly, but its translucency.” Only afterwards does the chapter go back to the rally and the six days in which Winston and the whole Ministry rewrote the records. That afternoon the book will please him in a way that sounds similar: “It said what he would have said, if it had been possible for him to set his scattered thoughts in order.” The student says why Orwell might open on the pleasure of a word that fits. The card must not turn the talk into a drill on the Party’s coined words, and must not settle in advance whether the book will make Winston stronger or only more comfortable.
A hunger the week has made. After six days of putting lies into the records, one word that fits, and that came from his own head, is a pleasure in itself. The book will give him the same pleasure on a larger scale that afternoon: words for what he already knows. The opening shows in small what Winston wants from reading.
It had come into his head spontaneously.
It said what he would have said, if it had been possible for him to set his scattered thoughts in order.
A drained man’s pleasure. The word is about his own body, and the chapter opens on a man whose world has shrunk to what he can feel: his overalls, the pavement, his creaking joints. A small fit of language is enough to please him now. The opening warns that his pleasures this afternoon may be the body’s as much as the mind’s.
All sensations seemed to be magnified.
His overalls fretted his shoulders, the pavement tickled his feet, even the opening and closing of a hand was an effort that made his joints creak.
A strong answer A strong response says why Orwell might open on the pleasure of a fitting word and argues from the first paragraph and what follows it. One reader sees a hunger the week has made: after six days of lies, a word that fits, and that came “spontaneously”, is a pleasure in itself, and the book will give him the same pleasure on a larger scale when it says “what he would have said”. Another sees a drained man’s pleasure: the word is about his body, and a chapter that opens with “All sensations seemed to be magnified” may be warning that his comforts this afternoon are as much the body’s as the mind’s. The best answers hear “spontaneously”, notice that the word describes his own body, and leave the verdict on the book open.
2. At the rally, the speaker switches enemies in the middle of a sentence, “without even breaking the syntax.” Why is that what impresses Winston when he looks back?Character
What it asks It asks the student to read what Winston takes from the rally. A scrap of paper reaches the orator: “He unrolled and read it without pausing in his speech. Nothing altered in his voice or manner, or in the content of what he was saying, but suddenly the names were different.” The crowd tears down the posters, “Quite half of them had the wrong faces on them”, and within minutes “The Hate continued exactly as before, except that the target had been changed.” Then: “The thing that impressed Winston in looking back was that the speaker had switched from one line to the other actually in mid-sentence, not only without a pause, but without even breaking the syntax.” For the next six days Winston rewrites the records so that no reference to the war with Eurasia remains. The student says why the unbroken sentence is what stays with him. The card must not laugh at the switch as absurd while passing over Winston’s own week, and must not say who handed him the brief-case; the chapter gives only “a man whose face he did not see”.
A craftsman’s eye. Winston’s own trade is the change that leaves no mark, and he is about to spend six days doing on paper what the speaker did in one breath. He notices the syntax the way one worker notices another’s skill, and he will want his own work just as clean.
Often it was enough merely to substitute one name for another, but any detailed report of events demanded care and imagination.
Even the geographical knowledge that one needed in transferring the war from one part of the world to another was considerable.
Alarm at how little room it leaves. A pause or a broken sentence is a place where a listener might catch the change. With no seam, there is nothing to catch, and the crowd follows without being told. What impresses Winston is how completely the lie closes over.
Without words said, a wave of understanding rippled through the crowd.
The Hate continued exactly as before, except that the target had been changed.
A strong answer A strong response says why the unbroken sentence stays with Winston and argues from the rally and the week after it. One reader hears a craftsman’s eye: Winston’s own work is the change that leaves no mark, and he wants his forgery as clean as the speaker’s sentence. Another hears alarm: with no pause and no break there is nowhere for a listener to catch the lie, and the crowd follows “Without words said.” The best answers notice “in looking back”, set the speech beside the chapter’s colon in “Oceania had always been at war with Eastasia”, and do not mock the crowd while forgetting what Winston does next.
3. For six days, the book lies shut between Winston’s feet while he rewrites the records, and under him while he sleeps. What is it doing for him while it stays closed?Inference
What it asks It asks the student to read the six days Winston carries the book unopened. He takes the brief-case at the rally “abstractedly, without speaking. He knew that it would be days before he had an opportunity to look inside it.” Through the rewriting, eighteen hours in the twenty-four, the book “had remained between his feet while he worked and under his body while he slept”, and he is “as anxious as anyone else in the Department that the forgery should be perfect.” On the walk to the shop afterwards it is still a weight he feels: “The heavy brief-case that he was carrying bumped against his knee at each step, sending a tingling sensation up and down the skin of his leg.” The student says what the unopened book does for him through that week. The card must not say who handed him the book or who wrote it, and must not summarise its contents, which Winston has not yet read.
A private reserve. With the other side’s book at his feet, he can do the Party’s work without becoming the Party’s man. His real self is in the brief-case, waiting, and that may be why the lies do not trouble him: he knows where he will go when the week is over.
which had remained between his feet while he worked and under his body while he slept
In so far as he had time to remember it, he was not troubled by the fact that every word he murmured into the speakwrite, every stroke of his ink-pencil, was a deliberate lie.
Nothing yet. A shut book cannot change how a man works, and this one does not. He works the same hours as everyone and wants the same perfect result. Holding the forbidden book and doing the perfect forgery sit side by side all week without a quarrel, and that is what the week shows.
He had worked more than ninety hours in five days. So had everyone else in the Ministry.
something which one had the right to refuse and which one was nevertheless neurotically anxious to accomplish
A strong answer A strong response says what the unopened book does for Winston and argues from the week of rewriting. One reader sees a private reserve: with the book at his feet, he can do the Party’s work without becoming the Party’s man, and that may be why the lies do not trouble him. Another sees nothing yet: he works the same hours as everyone and wants the same perfect forgery, and the shut book changes none of it. The best answers notice where he keeps it, at his feet and under his body, and how it tingles against his leg on the walk; they weigh whether it changes the work at all, and do not say who handed him the book.
4. A few sentences into the book, Winston stops reading “chiefly in order to appreciate the fact that he was reading.” What is he enjoying at that moment?Character
What it asks It asks the student to read the pause at the start of Winston’s free afternoon. He opens the book, reads the opening of Chapter I as far as “The aims of these three groups are entirely irreconcilable…”, and stops: “Winston stopped reading, chiefly in order to appreciate the fact that he was reading, in comfort and safety. He was alone: no telescreen, no ear at the keyhole, no nervous impulse to glance over his shoulder or cover the page with his hand. The sweet summer air played against his cheek.” Then: “He settled deeper into the armchair and put his feet up on the fender. It was bliss, it was eternity.” He has read a few sentences and learned nothing yet. The student says what he is enjoying at that moment. The card must not turn the talk into a summary of Goldstein’s theory, must not say whether the book is true or who wrote it, and must not read the room’s safety with hindsight from later chapters.
Being unwatched. Every other hour of his week passed under a telescreen, and here, for once, he can read without guarding the page. The pleasure is the act itself: a forbidden book held openly. The room gives him back a private mind, and he stops to feel it.
He was alone: no telescreen, no ear at the keyhole, no nervous impulse to glance over his shoulder or cover the page with his hand.
as one sometimes does with a book of which one knows that one will ultimately read and re-read every word
Rest. After more than ninety hours of work in five days, the pleasure is in the chair, the breeze and the stillness as much as in the book. In “bliss” and “eternity” time seems to stand still, and what he savours is a break from the week more than anything on the page.
He settled deeper into the armchair and put his feet up on the fender.
It was bliss, it was eternity.
A strong answer A strong response says what Winston is enjoying when he stops a few sentences in, and argues from the paragraph where he pauses. One reader says he is enjoying being unwatched: with “no telescreen, no ear at the keyhole”, he can read a forbidden book without guarding it, and he stops to feel that freedom. Another says he is enjoying rest: after more than ninety hours of work, the armchair, the breeze and the feet on the fender carry as much of the “bliss” as the book does. The best answers hear the two words in “comfort and safety”, weigh “eternity” against the week of erasing, and keep away from summarising the book.
5. Julia seems already “on the point of falling asleep” when she asks Winston to read the book aloud and explain it as he goes. He never stops to explain. Who is he reading for?Character
What it asks It asks the student to read the reading Winston and Julia share. She has greeted the book “without much interest”. In bed, she has “settled down on her side” and seems “already on the point of falling asleep” when he reaches for the book and says, “We must read it ... You too. All members of the Brotherhood have to read it.” She answers with her eyes shut, “You read it,” and then, “Read it aloud. That’s the best way. Then you can explain it to me as you go.” After one paragraph he asks, “Julia, are you awake?” and she says, “Yes, my love, I’m listening. Go on. It’s marvellous.” Then “He continued reading:”, through the whole of the long passage that follows, with no pause to explain. At last “Winston became aware of silence, as one becomes aware of a new sound. It seemed to him that Julia had been very still for some time past.” The student says whom he is reading for, given that he never stops to explain. The card must not treat Julia’s sleep as a joke or as proof that she is shallow, or say that she does not care about rebellion.
For her, in the only way he can. The book says what he would have said if he could order his thoughts, so explaining would mean saying it again, worse. Reading it aloud is his explanation, and Julia’s “Go on” lets him keep going.
It said what he would have said, if it had been possible for him to set his scattered thoughts in order.
He continued reading:
He is reading for himself. Julia asked for a conversation, with stops. He gives her a lecture and goes on alone, so deep in it that her silence reaches him like a new sound, and she has been still for some time. The reading he meant to share has become as solitary as his afternoon.
Winston became aware of silence, as one becomes aware of a new sound.
It seemed to him that Julia had been very still for some time past.
A strong answer A strong response says whom Winston is reading for and argues from the bedroom scene. One reader says he reads for Julia in the only way he can: the book says what he would have said, so reading it aloud is his explanation, and her “Go on” lets him go on. Another says he is reading for himself: she asked for a conversation, he gives her a lecture, and her silence reaches him only “as one becomes aware of a new sound.” The best answers hear what Julia asked for, weigh “It’s marvellous”, and do not make her sleep a joke or a judgment on her.
1. All week, every word Winston put into the records was “a deliberate lie,” and it did not trouble him. Then he reads aloud that doublethink means “To tell deliberate lies while genuinely believing in them.” How close did his own week come to doublethink?
What it asks It asks the student to hold the book’s definition up against Winston’s own week, which the chapter never does for him. Of the week: “In so far as he had time to remember it, he was not troubled by the fact that every word he murmured into the speakwrite, every stroke of his ink-pencil, was a deliberate lie. He was as anxious as anyone else in the Department that the forgery should be perfect.” The work felt like “something which one had the right to refuse and which one was nevertheless neurotically anxious to accomplish.” Of doublethink, in the pages he reads aloud: “The process has to be conscious, or it would not be carried out with sufficient precision, but it also has to be unconscious, or it would bring with it a feeling of falsity and hence of guilt.” And: “To tell deliberate lies while genuinely believing in them, to forget any fact that has become inconvenient”. The student builds a thesis on how close the week comes, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not turn into a summary of Goldstein’s theory, must not say whether the book is true or who wrote it, and must not claim that Winston sees himself in the passage, which the chapter never shows.
Not close. Doublethink needs belief, and Winston never believes his lies: the chapter calls each word “a deliberate lie” in his own account of the week. He is untroubled because there is no time to think, not because he has made himself believe. That gap between knowing and believing is what lets him claim, at the end, to cling to the truth.
To tell deliberate lies while genuinely believing in them
the processes that it involved could not be called by their true names
Closer than he would like. The book says doublethink must be unconscious enough to bring no feeling of falsity or guilt, and Winston feels none. It speaks of “the firmness of purpose that goes with complete honesty”, and he is as anxious as anyone that the forgery be perfect. The work felt like a task he could refuse, and he did not refuse it. The book describes his week, and the chapter never shows him stopping over it.
or it would bring with it a feeling of falsity and hence of guilt
He was as anxious as anyone else in the Department that the forgery should be perfect.
A strong answer A strong response states how close Winston’s week comes to the book’s doublethink, meets the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says not close: doublethink needs belief, Winston knows every word is “a deliberate lie”, and he is untroubled only for lack of time. The strongest objection is the book’s own requirement that doublethink bring no “feeling of falsity and hence of guilt”: Winston feels none, and he is as anxious as anyone that the forgery be perfect. A good revision separates knowing from feeling, notices that the chapter never shows him making the comparison, and does not summarise the book.
2. Winston decides that the best books tell you what you know already. Has reading Goldstein made him stronger, or only more comfortable?
What it asks It asks the student to judge what the book has done for Winston. Alone, he finds that the book “fascinated him, or more exactly it reassured him. In a sense it told him nothing that was new, but that was part of the attraction.” He decides: “The best books, he perceived, are those that tell you what you know already.” Lying down beside the sleeping Julia, he reflects: “He had still, he reflected, not learned the ultimate secret.” He knows how the Party works, the chapter says, but not why. “Chapter I, like Chapter III, had not actually told him anything that he did not know, it had merely systematised the knowledge that he possessed already. But after reading it he knew better than before that he was not mad. Being in a minority, even a minority of one, did not make you mad. There was truth and there was untruth, and if you clung to the truth even against the whole world, you were not mad.” Then: “The sun on his face and the girl’s smooth body touching his own gave him a strong, sleepy, confident feeling. He was safe, everything was all right.” He falls asleep murmuring “Sanity is not statistical”, “with the feeling that this remark contained in it a profound wisdom.” Through the week before, “He was as anxious as anyone else in the Department that the forgery should be perfect.” The student builds a thesis on whether the book has made him stronger or only more comfortable, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not settle the verdict, must not read “safe, everything was all right” with hindsight from later chapters or say who may be watching, must not supply the motive the book breaks off before, and must not say who wrote the book or whether it is true.
Stronger. A man who has spent a week erasing a war from every record, until no document anywhere could prove it happened, needs to hear that he is not mad. The book puts his own knowledge in order and gives it a firmer voice than his. Knowing better than before that a minority of one can be sane is what lets such a man hold on.
There was truth and there was untruth, and if you clung to the truth even against the whole world, you were not mad.
it had merely systematised the knowledge that he possessed already
Only more comfortable. The book told him nothing new; what changed is how he feels, and the chapter ties that feeling to the sun, the soft chair and Julia’s body as much as to the pages. He stops before the one thing he did not know, and falls asleep sure of a wisdom the narrator gives only as a feeling. The man who now clings to the truth “against the whole world” spent his week wanting the forgery perfect.
The sun on his face and the girl’s smooth body touching his own gave him a strong, sleepy, confident feeling.
with the feeling that this remark contained in it a profound wisdom
A strong answer A strong response states whether the book has made Winston stronger or only more comfortable, meets the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says stronger: after a week of erasing a war from every record, he needs to know a minority of one can be sane, and the book puts what he knows in order with a firmer voice than his own. The strongest objection is that it told him nothing new, that his confidence comes as much from the sun and Julia’s body as from the pages, and that he stopped before the why. A good revision weighs the week of perfect forgery against “not mad”, hears “with the feeling that”, and leaves the verdict open where the chapter does.
All the blood and lymph had been drained out of him by an enormous debauch of work, leaving only a frail structure of nerves, bones and skin.A bout of wild excess, usually of drink or pleasure, that leaves a person worn out (from French débaucher, to lead astray; debauchery is the habit). Orwell gives the word to work: “an enormous debauch of work”. Ninety hours of forgery become a binge the whole Ministry joined, and Winston is left drained, like someone the morning after.
The thing that impressed Winston in looking back was that the speaker had switched from one line to the other actually in mid-sentence, not only without a pause, but without even breaking the syntax.The way words are put together into a sentence: the order and links that make it grammatical (Greek syntaxis, arrangement, from syn-, together, and taxis, order). The speaker swaps enemies “without even breaking the syntax”: the sentence holds together while what it means turns over. A broken sentence would show a seam; an unbroken one hides it.
Reports and records of all kinds, newspapers, books, pamphlets, films, sound-tracks, photographs – all had to be rectified at lightning speed.Put right; corrected (from Latin rectus, straight or right, as in correct and rectangle). Here the word does the opposite of what it says: the records were accurate, and rectifying them makes them false. The chapter admits that the work’s processes “could not be called by their true names”, and “rectified” is one of the names used instead.
It was like struggling with some crushing physical task, something which one had the right to refuse and which one was nevertheless neurotically anxious to accomplish.In an anxious, driven way that goes beyond reason, as if a person cannot stop themselves (from neurotic, built on Greek neuron, nerve). Winston is “neurotically anxious” to finish a task he feels he could refuse: not a choice he weighs, but a pull he does not explain.
Chapter I, like Chapter III, had not actually told him anything that he did not know, it had merely systematised the knowledge that he possessed already.Arranged into an orderly system, so that separate pieces fit together (system, and -ise, to make; American spelling systematized). The book adds no new facts to what Winston knows; it puts what he knows in order. “Merely” makes that sound small, yet ordering his “scattered thoughts” is just what he could not do for himself.
He fell asleep murmuring ‘Sanity is not statistical,’ with the feeling that this remark contained in it a profound wisdom.Having to do with counting cases to find what is usual or average (from statistics, at first the study of facts about a state). Winston’s phrase means that sanity is not settled by counting heads: one person can be right when everyone else is wrong. The chapter gives it as a remark he feels holds “a profound wisdom”, and leaves the reader to weigh it.