Guy Montag is a fireman, and his job is to burn down houses that contain books. One day after work, he meets Clarissa a young woman who is full of vitality and he starts to realize how empty his life is, he starts to realize there are wisdom in words. As Guy begins questioning his life, his life starts to fall apart.
Ray Bradbury was an American author of science fiction, dystopia, fantasy and horror. His most famous work was “Fahrenheit 451”, but he is also known for “The Martian Chronicles” and “Something Wicked This Way Comes.” He wrote “Fahrenheit 451” in 1953, and the story is a dystopian science fiction novel told in a third person narrative from the point of view of the main protagonist, Guy Montag.
This is a prophetic view of where our society is heading. Young people spend hours a day texting, tweeting, searching the web, watching Youtube, playing video games and on Facebook, but they do not have enough time to read any books. In “Fahrenheit 451”, books have been outlawed, not because the government wants to control people, but because people are not interested in reading. Slowly, over time, people stopped attending the arts departments at university and creativity became extinct. The people in this story, just like people today, do not have time, and are consumed doing meaningless activities.
The story follows Guy Montag as he slowly becomes aware of his hollow life. He awakens from the trance he is in and he awkwardly tries to right the wrongs he has done. The story moves at a good pace with some surprising and exciting scenes. The ending shows how humanity’s apathy negatively affects the world but it also leaves the reader with a feeling of hope.
I recommend “Fahrenheit 451,” as a very good book. It is a standalone story, with a thought provoking ending. The writing is phenomenal and the word usage and descriptions are genius.
My favourite quotes:
“As he stood there the sky over the house screamed. There was a tremendous ripping sound as if two giant hands had torn ten thousand miles of black linen down the seam. Montag was cut in half. He felt his chest chopped down and split apart. The jet-bombs going over, going over, going over, one two, one two, one two, six of them, nine of them, twelve of them, one and one and one and another and another and another, did all the screaming for him. He opened his own mouth and let their shriek come down and out between his bared teeth. The house shook. The flare went out in his hand. The moonstones vanished. He felt his hand plunge toward the telephone. “(pg 9)
“Without turning on the light he imagined how this room would look. His wife stretched on the bed, uncovered and cold, like a body displayed on the lid of a tomb, her eyes fixed to the ceiling by invisible threads of steel, immovable. And in her ears the little Seashells, the thimble radios tamped tight, and an electronic ocean of sound, of music and talk and music and talk coming in, coming in on the shore of her unsleeping mind. The room was indeed empty. Every night the waves came in and bore her off on their great tides of sound, floating her, wide-eyed, toward morning. There had been no night in the last two years that Mildred had not swum that sea, had not gladly gone down in it for the third time.” (Pg 8)