Part Three, Chapter 6 — Teaching Companion

What it asks It asks the student to say what one thought does for Winston. A waiter brings the Times “with the page turned down at the chess problem”: “White to play and mate in two moves.” Winston looks up at the portrait of Big Brother and thinks, “with a sort of cloudy mysticism”, that white always mates: “Always, without exception, it is so arranged. In no chess problem since the beginning of the world has black ever won.” He asks himself whether it does not “symbolize the eternal, unvarying triumph of Good over Evil”, and “The huge face gazed back at him, full of calm power.” The student says what the thought gives him. It reaches toward the last question, since it shows what Winston now leans on. The card must not say whether the victory in Africa is real.

One reading

Rest. If the end is arranged, nothing hangs on him. He does not have to win, or choose, or hold out; he only has to wait. A game whose result is fixed is a game he cannot lose by playing badly, and after everything that has happened, that is a kind of peace.

• Always, without exception, it is so arranged.
• The huge face gazed back at him, full of calm power.

Another reading

A side to be on. The thought turns the winner into the good: if white always wins, white must be Good and black Evil. Winston looks up at the portrait as he thinks it. He is lining himself up with the side that cannot lose, and calling that side right because it wins.

• Did it not symbolize the eternal, unvarying triumph of Good over Evil?
• Winston looked up at the portrait of Big Brother.

Listen for

• Hears “cloudy mysticism”. That is the narrator’s word for the thought, not Winston’s. What does “cloudy” say about how clearly he is thinking?
• Hears “it is so arranged”. Arranged by whom? The sentence does not say.
• Notices that Winston never solves the problem. Later he makes “a tentative move” that is “evidently not the right move”, and at the trumpet the knight drops “with a clatter”. If white always mates, why can he not find the mate?
• Keeps to the page: the chapter gives only the bulletin, not whether the victory happened.

If stuck

• What does the chess problem in the Times ask white to do?
• What does Winston think is true of every chess problem?
• Why might it be restful to know how a game ends before it starts?

A strong answer A strong response says what the thought gives Winston, and argues from the chess paragraph. One reader says rest: if the end is “so arranged”, nothing hangs on him, and a fixed game is one he cannot lose by playing badly. Another says a side to be on: the thought turns the winner into “Good”, and he thinks it looking up at the portrait. The best answers weigh the narrator’s “cloudy mysticism”, notice that Winston never finds the mate himself, and do not say whether the victory is real.

What it asks It asks the student to judge what Winston feels most deeply about the war news. The telescreen warns of “an important announcement at fifteen-thirty”, and “instinct told him that it was bad news that was coming.” All day, “with little spurts of excitement, the thought of a smashing defeat in Africa had been in and out of his mind.” He pictures the enemy cutting Oceania in two: “It might mean anything: defeat, breakdown, the redivision of the world, the destruction of the Party!” Then: “An extraordinary medley of feelings – but it was not a medley, exactly; rather it was successive layers of feeling, in which one could not say which layer was undermost – struggled inside him.” The page says one could not say. The student says anyway, and argues from the page. It takes up one part of the last question: what lies underneath in Winston. The card must not read in a secret resistance the chapter does not show, and must not turn into a lesson on the map.

One reading

Hope. The list of what defeat “might mean” ends on the Party’s destruction, and it ends with an exclamation mark. All day the thought of defeat has come with “little spurts of excitement”, not dread. Under everything, the old wish to see the Party fall is still there, even if he would never act on it.

• It might mean anything: defeat, breakdown, the redivision of the world, the destruction of the Party!
• All day, with little spurts of excitement, the thought of a smashing defeat in Africa had been in and out of his mind.

Another reading

Loyalty, or the wish to feel it. In the same paragraph Winston plans Oceania’s rescue like a general. He asks why the enemy could not be outflanked, moves the white knight, and feels that his will is helping to make the rescue real. At the bottom is a man pulling for his own side.

• Why had it not been possible to outflank them in some way?
• He felt that by willing it he was bringing that other force into existence.

Listen for

• Hears the narrator correct himself: an “extraordinary medley of feelings – but it was not a medley, exactly”. What is the difference between a medley and layers?
• Sets this beside an earlier flash, “not fear exactly but a sort of undifferentiated excitement”, that “flared up in him, then faded again.” Can excitement belong to both sides at once?
• Hears the minutes before the trumpet, when “there had still been equivocation in his heart”. If he was of two minds, did one mind lose, or did both give way?
• Keeps to the page: the question is which feeling lies lowest, not whether Winston is secretly resisting. The chapter shows no act against the Party, and the arrows on the map matter only for what they do to him.

If stuck

• What news is Winston waiting for?
• What does he picture that defeat might bring?
• When you hope for two opposite things at once, how do you tell which you want more?

A strong answer A strong response names the layer it thinks lies lowest, and argues from the paragraph where Winston pictures defeat. One reader says hope: the list of what defeat might mean ends on the Party’s destruction, with an exclamation mark, and the thought of defeat comes with “little spurts of excitement”. Another says loyalty: in the same paragraph he plans the rescue, asks why the enemy was not outflanked, and feels his will bringing the other force into being. The best answers weigh “medley” against “layers” and the “equivocation” that remains before the trumpet, and do not claim a secret resistance the chapter does not show.

What it asks It asks the student to account for one image in the Park. On “a vile, biting day in March”, Winston follows Julia into a clump of leafless shrubs and puts his arm round her waist. “She made no response whatever to the clasp of his arm; she did not even try to disengage herself.” He notices a scar across her forehead, “but that was not the change. It was that her waist had grown thicker, and, in a surprising way, had stiffened.” He remembers helping “to drag a corpse out of some ruins”, and how it seemed “more like stone than flesh. Her body felt like that.” The student says why this picture comes to him. It reaches toward the last question, since it asks what has died. The card must not say what was done to Julia; the chapter gives only her scar and her changed body.

One reading

Because it is true of her. Something in Julia has gone, and his hands know it before he can say it. The scar is on the surface; the stiffness goes all through her. She neither leans in nor pulls away. The woman he once held is not there to hold.

• She made no response whatever to the clasp of his arm; she did not even try to disengage herself.
• which made it seem more like stone than flesh

Another reading

Because it is true of him. The picture is his, and so is the coldness. Before he has touched her skin he thinks its texture “would be quite different”. A moment earlier the thought of lying with her made his flesh freeze with horror. What he holds feels dead because what he feels has died.

• It occurred to him that the texture of her skin would be quite different from what it had once been.
• His flesh froze with horror at the thought of it.

Listen for

• Hears “the incredible weight of the thing”. A corpse is a “thing”. Is Julia becoming a thing to him, or is he becoming one to her?
• Notices the Park’s few crocuses, which “pushed themselves up to be dismembered by the wind.” Why might these be the only flowers in the scene?
• Weighs her one look, “full of contempt and dislike”. Winston wonders whether it comes “purely out of the past” or from his “bloated face”. A corpse does not look at anyone like that. What is still alive in her?
• Keeps to the page: the chapter does not say what was done to Julia.

If stuck

• What does Winston notice about Julia’s body when he holds her?
• What does it remind him of?
• When someone you knew well feels like a stranger, is the change in them or in you?

A strong answer A strong response says why the corpse is the picture that comes, and argues from the Park. One reader says it is true of her: she makes “no response whatever”, and the stiffness goes deeper than the scar. Another says it is true of him: he thinks her skin “would be quite different” before touching it, and the thought of lying with her fills him with horror. The best answers weigh the corpse as a “thing”, notice that her look of “contempt and dislike” is not a dead thing’s look, and do not say what was done to her.

What it asks It asks the student to explain Julia’s honesty. On two iron chairs, “‘I betrayed you,’ she said baldly.” He answers in the same words. Then she says that “they threaten you with something – something you can’t stand up to, can’t even think about”, and you say, do it to somebody else. “And perhaps you might pretend, afterwards, that it was only a trick and that you just said it to make them stop and didn’t really mean it. But that isn’t true. At the time when it happens you do mean it.” She goes on: “You want it to happen to the other person.” The student says why she will not take the easier story. It reaches toward the last question, since it asks what a person can still hold on to after a betrayal. The card must not say what exactly was done to her; she says only what “they threaten you with”.

One reading

Because the truth is the one thing still hers. She has lost nearly everything else, and lying to herself would be one more surrender. She says it “baldly”, with nothing softened. That bluntness is something of the old Julia, still working.

• ‘I betrayed you,’ she said baldly.
• But that isn’t true.

Another reading

Because it ends things. If it was only a trick, they could still love each other, and they would have to try. Saying “you do mean it” shuts that door for both of them. Her next words are the reason they are finished. The truth is how she says goodbye.

• At the time when it happens you do mean it.
• And after that, you don’t feel the same towards the other person any longer.

Listen for

• Notices that Winston adds nothing of his own: “‘All you care about is yourself,’ he echoed.” Does the echo mean he agrees, or that he has no words left?
• Sets her words beside what Winston thinks later, alone in the café: “He had not merely said it, he had wished it.” Has she taught him this, or said what he already knew?
• Weighs the parting. Both say “we must meet again”, and then he lets a knot of people come between them, “not altogether by accident.” Does the parting bear her out?
• Keeps to the page: she says only what “they threaten you with”; the chapter does not say what was done to her.

If stuck

• What do Julia and Winston say to each other first?
• What does Julia say people pretend afterwards?
• Is it braver to admit you meant something terrible, or kinder to say you did not?

A strong answer A strong response says why Julia refuses the easier story, and argues from her own words. One reader says the truth is the one thing still hers: lying to herself would be one more surrender, and she speaks “baldly”, as bluntly as ever. Another says the truth ends things: if it was only a trick they would still owe each other love, and “you do mean it” closes that door. The best answers weigh Winston’s echo, set her words beside “he had wished it”, notice how the parting bears her out, and do not say what was done to her.

What it asks It asks the student to say where the song comes from, if it does not come from the telescreen. Winston has just thought, of what he said about Julia, “He had meant it. He had not merely said it, he had wished it. He had wished that she and not he should be delivered over to the –” The sentence breaks off. Then “Something changed in the music that trickled from the telescreen. A cracked and jeering note, a yellow note, came into it. And then – perhaps it was not happening, perhaps it was only a memory taking on the semblance of sound – a voice was singing”. The two lines follow. “The tears welled up in his eyes. A passing waiter noticed that his glass was empty and came back with the gin bottle.” The student says who is singing if the song is only in his head. It reaches toward the last question, since it asks what still speaks inside Winston. The card must not settle whether the song is really playing, and must not say what was done to Julia. It leaves the tears of the last paragraph to the last written question.

One reading

Winston himself. Some part of him has heard what he just admitted and will not let it pass. The song says the plain truth he could not finish saying: each sold the other. The note is “jeering”, and he is jeering at himself. The tears come at once, as if he agrees. Something in him still knows what he did, and still minds.

• He had not merely said it, he had wished it.
• The tears welled up in his eyes.

Another reading

The Party, from inside him. Julia once said they could not get inside you, and the chapter has already answered her. If the tune plays on in his head, the telescreen no longer needs to play it. Even his guilt now comes to him in their music, cracked and jeering. And what answers it is a waiter with the gin bottle.

• But they could get inside you.
• A cracked and jeering note, a yellow note, came into it.

Listen for

• Notices where the song comes in: just after “delivered over to the –”, a sentence Winston cannot finish. What does the song say that he could not?
• Hears “a yellow note”. A note is a sound and yellow is a colour. Yellow can also mean cowardly. Which sense fits here, or do both?
• Notices that he weeps in a café named for the song’s tree, and that the waiter answers the tears with more gin. Does the gin end the song, or keep it going?
• Keeps to the page: the chapter does not settle whether the song is really playing, or say what was done to Julia. Leave the tears in the last paragraph for the last written question.

If stuck

• What words does the voice sing?
• What does the page say the song might be, instead of real singing?
• When a tune or a voice keeps playing in your head, where does it come from?

A strong answer A strong response says who is singing if the song is only in Winston’s head, and argues from the lines around it. One reader says Winston himself: the song says what he could not finish saying, the note is “jeering”, and the tears come at once, so something in him still minds what he did. Another says the Party, from inside him: the chapter has already said “they could get inside you”, and now even his guilt comes in their tune, answered by more gin. The best answers weigh the broken sentence before the song and the “yellow note”, and do not settle whether the song is really playing.

What it asks It asks the student to explain how a dream of betrayal can feel like being washed clean. After the bulletin, “Winston, sitting in a blissful dream, paid no attention as his glass was filled up. He was not running or cheering any longer. He was back in the Ministry of Love, with everything forgiven, his soul white as snow. He was in the public dock, confessing everything, implicating everybody.” He walks down “the white-tiled corridor, with the feeling of walking in sunlight, and an armed guard at his back. The long-hoped-for bullet was entering his brain.” Earlier in the chapter, thinking of the one person he did betray, he admits, “He had not merely said it, he had wished it.” The student builds a thesis on how giving everybody away can feel clean, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not say that Winston is shot: the bullet is part of the daydream in the café. It keeps to the novel’s own text, and leaves whether anything of the old Winston is left to the last written question.

One reading

Because there is nothing left to hide. All chapter Winston has been split: layers of feeling he cannot sort, “equivocation in his heart”, a sentence about Julia he cannot finish. To confess everything and name everybody is to hold no part of himself back. In the dream, clean means having no inside that differs from the outside.

• He was in the public dock, confessing everything, implicating everybody.
• He thought how ten minutes ago – yes, only ten minutes – there had still been equivocation in his heart as he wondered whether the news from the front would be of victory or defeat.

Another reading

Because it turns his one betrayal into nobody’s fault. Betraying Julia was his own act, and it burnt something out of him. If everybody is named, his guilt is no longer his alone; it is what everyone does, and all of it is forgiven. The cleanness is not innocence. It is forgiveness from the only power left to give it, which is why the dream goes back to the Ministry of Love.

• There were things, your own acts, from which you could not recover.
• He was back in the Ministry of Love, with everything forgiven, his soul white as snow.

Listen for

• Hears how white the dream is: “white as snow”, “the white-tiled corridor”, “walking in sunlight”. Sets it beside the white knight and “White always mates.” What has white come to mean for Winston?
• Hears “everything forgiven”. Forgiven by whom, and for what? What he did against the Party and what he did to Julia are not the same wrong.
• Hears the two cries in the last paragraph: “O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast!” Whose language is this, and who in these lines needed forgiving?
• Revises with the whole chapter in view, but leaves whether anything of the old Winston is left to the last written question. Keeps to the page: the bullet is part of the daydream, and the chapter does not show Winston shot.

If stuck

• Where is Winston in his daydream, and what is he doing there?
• Whom has Winston already betrayed, and what does he admit about it?
• Why can owning up feel good, even when it costs you?

A strong answer A strong response states how giving everybody away can feel clean, meets the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says there is nothing left to hide: confessing everything and naming everybody ends the split in him, so clean means no inside that differs from the outside. The strongest objection is that the cleanness is forgiveness, not innocence: his act against Julia is one of the acts “from which you could not recover”, and naming everybody makes his betrayal what everyone does, with “everything forgiven” by the power that asked for it. A good revision weighs how white the dream is, asks who forgives and for what, and does not say Winston is shot.

What it asks It asks the student to judge whether anything of the old Winston is left by the last line. While he makes “a tentative move” on the chessboard, “Uncalled, a memory floated into his mind.” A candlelit room; himself, nine or ten, “shaking a dice-box and laughing excitedly. His mother was sitting opposite him and also laughing.” It was a rainy afternoon about a month before she disappeared. He had whined for food, and she went out and came back with “an outfit of Snakes and Ladders”, a “miserable outfit”. They “played eight games, winning four each”, and his little sister laughed “because the others were laughing.” “For a whole afternoon they had all been happy together, as in his earlier childhood.” Then: “He pushed the picture out of his mind. It was a false memory.” Minutes later comes the trumpet, “the final, indispensable, healing change”, and the last paragraph: “Two gin-scented tears”, then “He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.” The student builds a thesis, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not say whether the memory is true or false; the chapter shows only Winston calling it false. It keeps to the novel’s text, and does not judge whether Winston should have been braver.

One reading

Yes, something is left. The memory comes “Uncalled”: Winston does not summon it, yet something in him has kept it, down to the smell of the cardboard and the score of the games. He has to push it out, and you only push against what pushes back. Even at the very end, he weeps.

• Uncalled, a memory floated into his mind.
• He could still remember the smell of the damp cardboard.

Another reading

No, or nothing that is still his. The memory survives, but Winston does not stand with it. He calls it false and turns back to the chessboard. The “healing change” comes after, and the last lines say the fight is over and won “over himself”. If the self that loved his mother is what was beaten, what is left is a memory with no one to keep it.

• He pushed the picture out of his mind. It was a false memory.
• He had won the victory over himself.

Listen for

• Hears “They did not matter so long as one knew them for what they were.” If false memories do not matter, why does this one need pushing away?
• Hears the “But” after the tears: “But it was all right, everything was all right”. Why would tears of joy need a “But”?
• Sets the mother beside the face. She says, “Now be good, and I’ll buy you a toy”; the last paragraph mourns an “exile from the loving breast”. Whose love is that line borrowing?
• Keeps to the page: the chapter shows only Winston calling the memory false, not whether it is. The question is what is left, not whether he should have been braver.

If stuck

• What memory comes to Winston, and what does he do with it?
• What happens at the café just after he pushes it away?
• If you push a memory away, is it still yours?

A strong answer A strong response states whether anything of the old Winston is left by the last line, meets the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says yes: the memory comes “Uncalled”, kept in detail down to the damp cardboard, and he has to push against it, and he still weeps at the end. The strongest objection is that the memory survives but Winston does not stand with it: he calls it false, the “healing change” follows, and the last lines say he has won “over himself”. A good revision weighs why a memory that does not matter must be pushed away, hears the “But” after the tears, and does not say whether the memory is true.