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A tale of two books |
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Nick Hornby |
author |
George Orwell |
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High Fidelity |
title |
Keep the Aspidistra Flying |
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Rob |
protagonist |
Gordon Comstock |
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Owns and manages a dead end record store in the 1990s |
occupation |
Works in two dead end book stores in the 1930s |
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Sex, lack of money, wanting to fulfill his dreams |
Preoccupation |
Being a “writer,” lack of money, lack of sex |
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Himself |
main love interest |
Himself |
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Laura |
the female figure who occasionally appears in the story too |
Rosemary |
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Mopes around in the record store thinking about his lack of sex and the previous occasions when he had some |
main action |
Mopes around in the book store thinking about his lack of money and the previous occasions when he had some |
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Has wild affair while girlfriend is pregnant, she gets abortion then shacks up with the guy upstairs, then there’s a funeral |
key plot points |
Gets paid for some writing, gets wasted, loses money and job, gets his girl pregnant on the first attempt |
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Bands I’ve never heard from before the turn of the century |
the book has too many references to … |
Books I’ve never read from before the turn of the previous century |
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Returns to job that gave him a sense of fulfillment, accepts his life with the one woman who would put up with him |
Outcome |
Returns to job that paid okay, accepts his life with the one woman who would put up with him, buys an aspidistra |
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Great use of the first person, which I’m usually wary of, plot bombshells dropped just when it threatened to be a bit too boring. Wimpy ending. |
Review |
Not Orwell’s best, and he disowned it owing to publishers stuffing around, but an engaging read if occasionally repetitive. Wimpy ending. |
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Better than Jessica Rudd |
Rating |
Better than Jessica Rudd |
Seriously, it was hard to read these two books within weeks of each other without noticing the similarities. They are quite different, in that Hornby wrote High Fidelity in the first person as Rob, while Orwell stuck to third-person reportage. They exist in different generations, and different economic and social structures. But they deal with money pressures, love, lust, art and the protagonists each claim to be following their dreams but are instead stuck in self-destructive and obsessive habits. Both books (something of a spoiler alert) end up with the men settling for what they have, or perhaps it should be seen as accepting what they have is not so bad after all and they should appreciate that. Hornby’s was the better read, one of the very few first-person books I could find myself being swept away with. Orwell was worth reading simply because it’s Orwell and even not at his best there is much to enjoy.
great post Michael, those books sound pretty interesting. 🙂