My friend loaned me Down and Out in Paris and London by George Orwell because I've recently returned from London. She thought the book was completely autobiographical and, knowing my writerly ambitions, said, "Good luck," as she handed it to me. I'm familiar with the grimness of Orwell-the monolithic library in London where I wrote my finals papers was the inspiration for the Ministry of Truth-but for some reason I still assumed the novel would be some glamorized version of poverty, with brilliant Lost Generation-like characters who were completely broke but still managed to get a drink at any time.
I was completely wrong, of course. The book is beautifully written but made me feel dismal, which works because I feel like real literature should make you feel something and dismal tends to be the emotion of choice.
The book starts out with the narrator living in Paris and down to his last few hundred francs, and details the hell of pawnshops and seventeen hour workdays in restaurants (which, by the way, made me never want to eat at a restaurant again). When his job back in England is delayed, he begins tramping, which vaguely reminded me of my youth hostel days.
I'm not sure whether I entirely agree with Orwell's beliefs, but the book does make you rethink the way poverty works. I also now have a greater appreciation of food. And Orwell shows characters with an unshakable optimism and ability to stagger through a difficult life. My favorite was Bozo, the sidewalk artist who knew all the names of the stars. He gives the narrator a lovely speech, particular for the reader in a recession, about how you may have no money but if you have your humanity you can still be happy.
So yeah, not my favorite book, but something to definitely check out. Just make sure you have a fridge full for groceries first.
-Alyssa
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