Actually, I finally got around to finishing the 1984 a few weeks ago. It was satisfying to finish, and fairly chilling.
Honestly, there's too much to say about it. Any post or summary I could give would either ruin the experience for those who haven't read it, or it would do it little justice. Initially, I was thinking that I would compare the choices Orwell made in creating his utopia to those made by other utopia inventors. The anime Ergo Proxy was rich with interesting comparisons, but when it came down to it, it couldn't be done. At least, not in a way that would keep from spoiling many of the delicious secrets in both works.
So, let's talk about Neil Gaiman. I would argue that he is my favorite author as of now. For anyone unfamiliar with him, Gaiman is an extremely successful and fairly prolific fantasy and sci-fi writer, churning out a series of novels, at least two of which now adapted into movies (Coraline and Stardust), and a collection of graphic novels, including the complicated and fascinating Sandman Chronicles.
The Sandman Chronicles are about the adventures and history of the Sandman, Morpheus and his interactions with his siblings known as the Endless, and some very important and unique mortals. They're rather expensive books and no longer carried at Barnes and Noble, for some reason, but they're certainly worthwhile, when you can find them. (Recently, actually, I visited a quaint and magical little shop in Alexandria called Aftertime Comics, and they sold almost the whole series, as well as a bunch of accompanying books to the series.)
Why are we talking about this series? Well, I've been itching to discuss the Endless for quite some time. They're not gods, nor mortals, nor spirits or fairies; the Endless are simply the embodiments of the essential elements of being. By that, I mean, they're the family of Death, Destruction, Despair, Desire, Delirium/Delight, and Dream. I'd also like to point out how nifty it is that their names all start with D.
As a literary invention, I'd consider them extremely impressive. Gaiman has successfully given them all personalities and histories too incredibly rich and complicated for belief, by which I mean that they're too relatable. One finds oneself wondering, as one passes from book to book, "Is it lonely to control dreams? Why should it be? Well, of course it would be..." etc, etc, and eventually you fall for them in their independent ways. Even Despair, who is the most ugly and revolting character I've read or seen in as long as I can remember, has a sort of tragedy about her that fosters sympathy.
Initially, I'd believed them to be elements of human life, ideas that feed on human sentiment. Reading on, though, one finds that Gaiman had intended for them to exist even before humankind, before sentient humanoids, even to attend to the lives of stars.
Now, that puts things in perspective, huh? Gaiman took personification and blew it up, like a pinata filled with confetti. True, stars are born and die. They give birth to planets that sleep until they awake with life. They live tragically short lives, I suppose, sometimes, or lonely long ones. Naturally, it takes some practical application of personification to these seemingly inanimate celestial objects, but that can be reversed, in a sense.
Certainly, stars can be destroyed. They must be, in order to create other things. But if one needs to apply so much personification to stars so that they might feel Despair or Desire, then one should consider: what does Destruction mean to humans?
That question is a little tantalizing. We destroy ourselves, each other, and things economically, spiritually, physically and figuratively. How does Destruction work within our scope? How can it be the same Endless as the one that destroys stars?
I think that's something of a clash. The definitions of existence don't line up the same way.
Just something to consider. Certainly give the series a read, and let me know what y'all think.
