A Clockwork Orange

And so I sit here, struck by literary genius, O my brothers. I must tell you I have indulged in this book perhaps more than any of you, unless you're Russian also. My native language intertwined with this astounding work of brilliant horror, coloring it rich and scary and crazy at the same time, with me imagining it as it was spoken, properly. Brrrrr. I feel like there is the voice of Anthony Burgess in my head, reciting as Alex. I must tell you one more thing, before I go on. I have read the version with the 21st chapter, the very end that's been cut off in the original American publication, but was kept in the British, hence the review might differ from the version that didn't have it. You see, Alex changed, as impossible as it might have seem, he did change in that last 21st chapter, and indeed it changed the story itself. There is hope, after all, for the Alexes of the world. Makes you wonder, doesn't, what kind of decision made it cut from the American version in the first place. But I'm getting carried away into mundane. Now, I must say, this will be the book to re-read and to re-read and to re-read, among such works of genius as Lolita, War and Peace, and the like. I've never read Burgess before, and I plan on indulging more and more in his work in coming years, because, oh well, because the explosion of the beautiful and the appalling, the sophisticated and the primitive strikes such a fine balance, that you feel it, you smell it, you taste it, you hear it, you see it like it's unfolding around you, and you unfold around it, and inside it, and all is in and out and together, and you raise your head from the book to answer that call and you no longer know who you are or why or where. Last time a new writer had such an impact on me it was Haruki Murakami with 1Q84. I can't say wow, because it sounds boring. Let me try. It will deposit fireworks in your brain. It will skin you and pin you with sharp words all real proper. It will put you in a mind of one you don't want to be yet feel for by the end of the book, unsure how it happened. Namely, little Alex. Little Alex. Little Alex has a proper mum and pop, lives in a proper flat, in a proper block, all good. But it's not enough for little Alex. Little Alex likes to perform a bit of ultra-violence every night with his droogs, but it's just simple bloodletting, oh no. It's more sophisticated than that. Alex has wit, Alex is fond of classical music, Alex adds the disturbing twist to his crimes, and that, only at 15. He does everything there is to try, the beating, the cutting, the raping, the stealing, until one day he stumbles on killing, and that's a slippery slope that leads him to an institution where some very interesting new curing methods are tried on him, and lo and behold, I can't tell you no more as otherwise I will spoil it for you, in case you happened to have been untouched by this story, wether in book or film shape. Anyway. It all turns around, of course, as things do in life. Those who do crimes, pay for their crimes, but who is to judge what is fair? How much do you pay, and when can we stop the punishment? I know there have been horsed of scholars who said smart things about this book and about life and people at large and how it relates, but on my level I can tell you that the coin has always two sides, and we may forever wonder if what the author was trying to say, but I have a feeling that is wasn't simple glorifying of sex and violence, as it might seem. Oh no. It's about "Why?", and about "Why not?" Why do we have violence and those who enjoy it? Because those who do it can tell you, why not? When we're blind as to why we shouldn't, we do it just because we can, don't we? We do until we get caught. That's how we learn. Some earlier, some later. Alex does learn, eventually, but at a cost. Okay, I need to shut up now otherwise this will turn into an essay. Go read it. It will, literally, blow your mind.

"The question is whether such a technique can really make a man good. Goodness comes from within, 6655321. Goodness is something **chosen**. **When a man cannot choose he ceases to be a man**." When I reached this passage in Anthony Burgess' *A Clockwork Orange*, I immediately recognized it as one of the most (if not the most) important message among the many in this intriguing, fast-paced novel (it is then reinforced later on in the novel by the author/victim F. Alexander). Also present in Kubrick's film, but not stated with the same emphasis and strength, it comes from the 'rot of the Staja's charlie' (or, translating from Nadstad--the slang used by teenagers in Burgess' futuristic dystopian England--"the prison's chaplain's mouth") and tells everything: this book is about free will. To be honest, I've never been much interested in the fortuitous, ultra-violent concept behind Kubrick's film (which I had never seen before finishing the book this week), but decided to give the book a shot after learning about its intricate linguistic complexities, by incidentally reading the 'Translator's Notice' in the most recent Brazilian translation (Fabio Fernandes for publisher Aleph). There, Fernandes enthusiastically go over each of the main devices used by Burgess to create a sense of strangeness in the dystopic future of ACWO and how he as a translator dealt with them: the Russian-derived words in nadsat ('horrorshow'/хорошо for excellent, 'rot'/рот for mouth, 'rooker'/руки for hands, 'litso'/лицо for face, 'malenky'/маленький for little or tiny, 'devotchka'/девочка for girl, 'veshch'/вещь for thing and so on), the childish rhyming slang (like kids talking cute in words like 'skoliwoll', 'gutiwutis', 'eggiweg') and the pompous sort-of-shakespearean discourse (filled with thus's, thou's and thine's). All of that made me start reading the Brazilian translation in Portuguese and the original English version simulteaneously. But soon I felt comfortable moving on only with the original, having a nadsat glossary at hand just not to lose track of anything. Actually, as soon as I made it through the surf of the nadsat, just like in Joyce's *Ulysses* (and Burgess as a linguist was a devoted Joycian), ACWO turned into a very entertaining journey because it is so fast-paced. However, the comparison with Joyce's can't go much beyond the surface of the linguistic mimicking, because Burgess himself admitted in life that he wrote ACWO in a hurry (scholars now say he wrote the book in 18 months, but Burgess himself used to brag he did it in just three weeks because he needed the money). Actually, all Nadsat, the childish rhyming slang and the sort-of-shakesperean discourse seemed to me to be rather gross stylistic shortcuts, like finding a solution to create this sense of strangeness of the dystopic future quickly (it certainly makes it easier to establish that all Nadsat comes from anglicized Russian, but why would it be that way?--was there a time when England was under Russian command?). The same can be said about Alex's pompous Shakespearean tone--it is cool, but it is there just because it is cool, no matter how hard it is to explain in the context of the novel why is that. Differently from the Kubrick's film, 'Your Humble Narrator' Alex is, at the beginning of the novel, only a 15-year-old violent teenager who actually comes from a (presumably) stable family--which maybe could help explain how he had the chance to know so much about classical music and develop his devotion to "Ludwig van", although all references to classical music in the novel seem to be, as Nadsat and Shakespeare, stylistic shortcuts as well. In any event, Alex's story goes on for more or less three years, and that is what makes the whole difference with Kubrick's movie (and indeed caused Burgess himself to depricate it), as clearly Malcolm McDowell was not only much older (isn't that something that happens with all adaptations of Hamlet to the screen as well?) but also out-of-placedly immature. I must confess I was completely 'nagoy' about the controversy surrounding the last, 21st chapter. All I can say is that, at first, it really came to me as a blatantly sarcastic detour. It was like the book was moving in one direction and all of sudden it moved almost 180 degrees around. Until the end, I was eagerly waiting for a plot twist that would put it back on track, but that was a hope slowly vanished as the unread pages diminished. So all I had as a console was the prison's chaplain's phrase: if Alex couldn't choose, he wouldn't be free, so he had to learn by himself what goodness was really all about. It is a sort of naïve idea that maybe was needed in the 1960s when Burgess wrote the book, but an idea that didn't age well. That is not what you could say about the rest of the book, which not only didn't age, it became so fluid with our own reality that it has, sadly enough, fallen almost into our everyday triviality.

One of the most fascinating dystopian novels on the par with George Orwell's "1984." Although the superficial perusal may reveal simply a complex plot involving evel-ish protagonist -- "Little Alex," a somewhat deeper look at the author and social issues involved at the time of the novel's writing will reveal a complex lace of multiple subplots and ideas. Something to consider: for a long time Anthony Burgess was a member of Her Majesty's Secret Service. Despite long assignments to Far East and Middle Eastern countries, Anthony Burgess' specialty was Eastern Europe and Slavic languages. Hence the language of the "hood" in this novel: "Nadzet" -- translated as "teen." (e.g. triNADZAT' " = 13; chetirNADZAT'= 14, etc...). Why do the major characters speak this lingo? Well the simple answer is that they are teenagers themselves. Hence the angst, aggressiveness, unbridled sexuality, the ugly behaviour, etc... Something else to consider: why pepper the novel with Slavonic root-words? Why not use Arabic, French, or German? Possible answer: To those "in the know," it may have looked as if there may have been a small but real chance that good old England may go Red (Philby, Burgess (different and unrelated Guy Burgess), and McLean have just defected [not in that order, of course]; the students and the unions are taking over the streets; Soviets are going into space and are arming every anti-colonial movement possible; etc, etc, etc.) As a specialist on Eastern Europe, Burgess had deep knowledge of miserable life behind the Iron Curtain, which he masterfully recreated in and transposed upon Great Britain in the "Clockwork." Trivia 1: it is rumored that while posted in Egypt, Burgess had a nervous breakdown. This led to his resignation from working for the Crown and the beginning of his literary career (this was brought up in several media interviews with the author later in his writing career). Trivia 2: the original printing of the book differed greatly between the US and the UK versions as the American Version lacked the final chapter of the book! It is unclear why, but the readers in the U.S. had to wait until 1972 to read the book in full. Trivia 3: the superb film adaption of the plot by Stanley Kubrick (the one that stars young Malcolm McDowell in the title role) was based on the American and NOT UK version, therefore it (the movie) lacks an absolutely key point of the book obvious to the reader in the last chapter of the original "Clockwork Orange." Trivia 4: No connection was ever made between Guy Burgess (the Secret Service man who defected to the USSR) and Anthony Burgess (Secret Service man who had a nervous breakdown and then wrote this book). As far as I know not even the most paranoid counterintel John Bull has ever raised that question. Hm... Now that I see it written down,,, I wonder... Overall, this is one of my most favourite books ever!

Lets start with the book--"A Clockwork Orange." Anthony Burgess grew to hate this book, not because of its contents , but because it so overshadowed all of his other works. Burgess was a man of divers interests which he wrote about in both fiction and nonfiction. He was a superb writer. Words, for him, seemed to come easily. I must say, Burgess deserves mention as a sociological Jules Verne, a man who made stark predictions of future turns that have panned out. In "A Clockwork Orange," which he wrote fairly early in life, he created a deeply disturbing world in which young teens run free to commit violent crimes of all kinds at night. The opening pages of this book are filled with gang fights, muggings, rape, beatings, burglary, and car theft. Alex, the protagonist of this first-person narration, never shows even a smidgen of remorse about the crimes he has committed. He simply relates his tale, including a scene in which he rapes two girls he estimates to be pre-teen. The only violence the sociopathic Alex regards as problematic is violence against him. In the story, he is arrested and eventually introduced into an experimental new program that uses drugs and hypnotics to make people incapable of violence. Note, this does not mean he sees it as wrong, just that he cannot become violent without being sickened. He is a cat without claws or teeth that is placed back in a world filled with enemies (many of whom are the good people he tortured) and the results are as cruel as he is. The story is simple, the telling is sublime. Alex speaks "Nadsat," a slang language of Burgess's creation that mixes Russian words, rhyme, and English slang. A good portion of the novel is told in these words, so the reader needs to pay careful attention in the beginning, learn a new vocabulary, and apply that vocabulary to every paragraph. In my case, I was not a reader but a listener, and that enhanced the experience greatly. It enhanced the experience largely do to the amazing talents of Tom Hollander, a gifted character actor who injects so much into this book. You may know Hollander. He played the parson Mr. Collins in "Pride and Prejudice" and the officious Cutler Beckett in the second and third "Pirates of the Caribbean" movies. He generally plays the short guy with the big ego. If I had his reading ability, I'd have an ego the size of a mountain. Hollander adds a brash, boastful, cockney attitude to Alex. His range of voices and characters seems endless as he brings old men, politicians, prisoners. thugs, policemen, prison guards, priests, and psychologists to life. There have been a few perfect pairings of reader and text. If you try this audio book and agree with me, you might also want to listen to "The Anansi Boys" as read by Lenny Henry; "Memoirs of a Geisha," read by Bernadette Dunne--there are other productions of "Memoirs" with readers. I can neither recommend nor criticize other versions as I have not heard--I highly recommend holding out for Ms. Dunne's reading; and "The Green Mile" and "Freaky Deaky" read by Frank Muller.

Wow, this book goes after some truly weighty subjects in a short time frame. Burgess tells the story of his narrator, Alex, who is a clearly intelligent young man who has focused his youthful talents on setting out each night to terrorize the innocent citizens of a futuristic London. The book is famous for Burgess' heavy use of a made-up slang that a committed reader will pick up quickly using context clues. It actually serves to focus your attention on the book rather than as a distraction. Further, Burgess uses the slang to differentiate groups of characters within the book and, in some of the book's most interesting moments, one side of a character from another side within himself. The dichotomies created are very clear without being ham-fisted. Very well done. Burgess really creates a gritty, enveloping sense of place and mood as Alex and his pals meander through the city. As the reader, you simultaneously feel their sense of power (empty though it may be) and the victim's sense of fear and helplessness. Another great exploration of the duality of character within each of us, and yet this is still just a warm up for the main event! The story hits its peak once Alex is sold out by his pals and captured by the police (who aren't really good guys). Alex volunteers/is chosen for a new procedure which will "cure" him of his evil tendencies. The scenes of brainwashing that follow are wonderfully crafted and this whole segment of the book artfully asks whether it is better to have a choice between good and evil when only a portion of us will choose good, or whether it is better for all of us to be good even at the cost of our free will. It's a tremendous look at freedom vs. authoritarianism in all its forms. As Alex is released back into the world, we see the flip side of his original self, someone incapable of any form of evil. The string of events that follows brings up as many penetrating questions for the reader as any other portion of the book. Alex finishes (if you get a book with the 21st chapter - make sure you do) slightly older, with more perspective on his situation. A book about the two sides (at least) we all have within us and the freedom some of us have and some of us lack to let the two sides out. Highly recommended, you can see why this one has stood the test of time.

I suspect that 95% of those familiar with A Clockwork Orange have seen the Stanley Kubrick motion picture, as opposed to read the rather short novel written by Anthony Burgess. It had been a long time since I'd seen the movie (25-30 years), so aside from a broad remembrance of Malcolm McDowell raising holy hell and undergoing "reconditioning", I remembered little of the story. In fact, in an introduction to the 1986 edition of the work, Burgess explains that previous American editions, as well as the Kubrick film, neglected to include the 21st chapter of the story. MILD SPOILERS, FOR THOSE UNFAMILIAR WITH THE STORY The story is set in a near future dystopia, in which our humble narrator, Alex, epitomizes the rampant lawlessness and thuggery of society. After several instances of extreme antisocial behavior, he is arrested, convicted and incarcerated. Faced with political backlash as a result of the high crime rate, the powers that be have concocted an effective rehabilitation technique to combat recidivism. Alex is the perfect lab rat for the new technique, which utilizes harsh negative reinforcement to forestall even the thought of violence. Effectively cured, he is released into society, where he becomes an unwilling tool for both the current administration as well as its opponents. At issue is the morality of the treatment itself. As the prison chaplain opines: "It may not be nice to be good Alex. It may be horrible to be good. And when I say that to you I realize how self-contradictory that sounds. I know I shall have many sleepless nights about this. What does God want? Does God want goodness or the choice of goodness? Is a man who chooses the bad perhaps in some way better than a man who has good imposed upon him? Deep and hard questions, Alex." And later, a former victim of Alex's wrongdoing states, "They always bite off too much. But the essential intention is the real sin. A man who cannot choose ceases to be a man." In any event, after a political struggle, Alex's conditioning is reversed. The previously omitted 21st chapter deals with Alex's free choice to be good or be bad, and the inclusion of this chapter, in effect, changes the entire book, in my opinion. No review can be complete without reference to the style of language used throughout the novel. A mixture of English and Russian (referred to as nadsat) serves as the dialect for the teenage punks of the era. While slightly offputting at first, the meaning can be easily discerned through context, except on rare occasions such as the following: "This evening at the Korova there was a fair number of vecks and ptitsas and devotchkas and malchicks smecking and peeting away, and cutting through their govoreeting and the burbling of the in-the-landers with their `Gorgor fallatuke and the worm sprays in filltip slaughterballs' and all that cal you could slooshy a popdisc on the stereo, this being Ned Achimota singing `That Day, Yeah, That Day'." Enjoy.

hard cover excellent price

Product was as described and delivered as promised.

fantastic book, and a quick read

主人公が暴力に明け暮れる日々から、国の矯正を受けて変わっていく物語。読みやすいとは言えないけれど、自由とは何か、人間らしさとは何かを自然に考えさせられました。

It's a very short novel, and half of the text in this edition is forewords, afterwords, articles, etc., that give further insight on the novel as a world phenomenon.

‘A Clockwork Orange’ is probably one of the most unique novels in the annals of literature. And by unique, I mean unique in every sense, including dark humor, language, and the way Alex has with music. To those voracious readers of this ever-growing community, have you ever thought before picking up this book that it will be a hard read? Let me answer you. You will find the first chapter hard, I agree. But as you go on, you will find that most of the words are repeating themselves. The novel will be engrossing after this point. If you enjoy reading, then you will understand the meaning of Nadsat words from the sentence itself. The language is also pretty comical. Especially the words for 'good' and 'God.' Then there is the music. Rock music was taking baby steps during the time this novel is set, that in the 1970s. But still, it was prevalent. And look at Alexander the Large's interests- Beethoven and Bach. Music is a nice element of this novel; for Alex, it is at first a pleasure, but later on, after the therapy, it is torture for him. A toying with his brains is what changed his response to music. The humor- my god, it is out of this world! I mean, there is a limit to black comedy also, like all genres. But Burgess defied those boundaries and changed the way of this sub-genre forever. And speaking of limits, how can I forget Kubrick's film. Kubrick's film is highly artistic, without a doubt. Not as futuristic and resplendent as '2001: A Space Odyssey', though. He has a habit of changing details, and adding that extra 'spice.' That is what I like about him. But the novel is entirely different than the film. Both the novel and the movie are good in their own way. The former uses background music to lift its humorous tone. The latter uses language. But there as some similarities too. They do not glorify violence; on the contrary, they use violence as a recurring theme to strike a ground reality in the readers. The harsh reality is that the future is not bright. The story is told from the perspective of Alex, our protagonist. The theme is simple enough: is it better for a man to be bad than to be made good forcefully? And to this, Burgess replies yes. The person must himself realize his faults. He must be an orange, capable of coherent thought and decisions, not a clockwork, made to be better by force. The idea is disturbing and thought-provoking at the same time.

The edition was very affordable, it was a paperback for pocket edition. The book itself was correct and without scratches or further imperfections.