Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 is a cerebral novella that terrifies with its recollection of history and clairvoyance. The events depicted aren't farfetched in any way; reading Nien Cheng's Life and Death in Shanghai can prove their verisimilitude. Even examining today's events corroborates it; men showing signs that "Freedom go to hell" upon being offended (1), seigneurs advising that the public avoid honesty in consideration for others' ideas and beliefs. Just one excerpt from 451 proves its relevance:

"You must understand that our civilization is so vast that we can't have our minorities upset and stirred. Ask yourself, What do we want in this country, above all? People want to be happy, isn't that right? Haven't you heard it all your life? I want to be happy, people say, Well, aren't they? Don't we keep them moving, don't we give them fun? That's all we live for, isn't it? For pleasure, for titillation? And you must admit our culture provides plenty of these."

That is not an uncommon attitude.

451 is largely conversational, centering around the protagonist Montag as he seeks enlightenment in an Orwellian dystopia. Montag is a fireman, only firemen don't exterminate fires in his world-----they use fires to burn books. Books, as antagonist (though largely a tool) Beatty explains, offend people. "Colored people don't like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don't feel good about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Burn it. Someone written a book about tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book. Serenity, Montag. Peace, Montag. Take your fight outside. Better yet, into the incinerator. Montag, in his position, has much access to books, and begins to surreptiously discover their wonders. This obviously creates some problems with the government.

451's ubiquity makes it great. Government corruption is inevitable, and the government will always be around, which means people will relate to this for eternity. In a style redolent of Atlas Shrugged, the characters speak in ideal, rhythmic tones, vicariously spewing rhetoric. Their words disgust much like Rand's Dr. Simon Pritchett or James Taggart, evoking both physical and vocal reactions-----the true mark of an effective author.

When Bradbury's prose really appears, its abstract adherence to Montag's juxtaposition immerses the reader like few authors can. The opening words set the mood well: It was a pleasure to burn. It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed. With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. Immediately there's a flamboyant, encapsulating idea of what's happening.

Bradbury's solution to Montag's quandary is unique and clever. He doesn't pursue a cliche-oh-em-gee-I-saw-that-coming-when-saw-the-title route; instead he bows to human nature, knowing that it always finds a way out. His strong, focused story doesn't drift for a second, captivating until its very last word.

Rating: A

1. http://michellemalkin.com/archives/004448.htm

P.S.: Ironic picture: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:GeorgeRayLaura.jpg

Recommended: Yes