Fahrenheit 451

ISBN: 0006546064
ISBN 13: 9780006546061
By: Ray Bradbury

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About this book

Fahrenheit 451the temperature at which book-paper catches fire and burnsGuy Montag is a fireman. His job is to burn books, which are forbidden, being the source of all discord and unhappiness. Even so, Montag is unhappy; there is discord in his marriage. Are books hidden in his house? The Mechanical Hound of the Fire Department, armed with a lethal hypodermic, escorted by helicopters, is ready to track down these dissidents who defy society to preserve and read books.The classic novel of a post-literate future, Fahrenheit 451 stands alongside Orwell's 1984 and Huxley's Brave New World as a prophetic account of Western civilization's enslavement by the media, drugs and conformity.Bradbury's powerful and poetic prose combines with uncanny insight into the potential of technology to create a classic of twentieth-century literature which over fifty years from first publication, still has the power to dazzle and shock.

Reader's Thoughts

Shannon (Giraffe Days)

Guy Montag is a fireman. At night - always at night - when the alarm comes in, he and his team rush out on the Salamander, the fire engine, to the condemned house where the police should have already removed the guilty home owner to an asylum so the firemen can go in without obstacle and burn the place down.Montag has always loved his job. He goes to sleep with a grin on his face, and tries not to look at the ventilator in the home he shares with his wife Mildred, where he's hidden something forbidden. When a new family moves in next door and he meets their young daughter Clarisse, he finds himself fascinated by the things she says and does. She talks about the little details in life, from a leaf to a dandelion held under the chin. She talks about her classmates killing each other, and tells him about a time when firemen used to put out fires, not start them.At home his wife is lost in her own world, a world of constant baffling television and sleeping pills. At work he feels like the Captain knows his guilt, his doubt. And when Montag steals another book from a fire and feels his whole world shaken up with new thoughts, he can no longer go back to being the same as everyone else: happy, because they don't think, don't need to think, and aren't confronted with anything remotely troubling. Including what's in books.There's a wallop packed into this short book, and for a book written in the early 50s, its message certainly hasn't diminished.The world of Fahrenheit 451 is one stripped of anything that can alarm people, that can make them feel excluded, misrepresented, confronted, confused. It is a world designed to ensure everyone's happiness, that began with a people's revolt against a thing that symbolised contradictory, contrary views, that enabled some people to feel superior and thus others inferior: books. The written word. Fiction and non-fiction alike, the people turned their backs on books. To help things along, the firemen began to burn them. Now the ideas in books are so long gone the people have no thoughts in their heads at all. They do not sit in silence and contemplate things; instead, a tiny radio sits in their ear and babbles constantly, or they sit in their living rooms where the walls are giant television screens, watching shows into which they themselves can become a part, that aren't about anything at all but which totally engross them. It is a world of fast pleasures - joy rides through the city at ridiculous speeds - and constant war with some unnamed country far away.As Montag's friend Professor Faber says in his explanation of where the world went wrong, "We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of growing on good rain and black loam." (p.83) What he means is that there is no substance anymore, that happiness must come from something, not the "nothing" that they have created. We recognise happiness because we have known sadness, stress, tragedy, and so on. Thinking critically, analysing, having our assumptions and opinions confronted - this is healthful, beneficial, not something to be scared of and denounce because it upsets people to have to think.Another thing lacking from this world is the idea of leaving something behind, of leaving an imprint of yourself on other people - that people would remember you for your gifts, your abilities, your personality, and so on. Montag can't even remember where or how he met his wife Mildred, and they certainly aren't happy. What else is lacking is knowledge, and self-awareness: no one has the ability to understand themselves, to say "I am unhappy" and discover why, or do anything about it. They are hollow people, and the historical path Bradbury traces is one of minority rule and shorter and shorter sound bites: books and television etc. reduced to single lines and 10 seconds of air time. This trait - with television at least - is apparent today. Aside from commercials, which can be dizzying, video clips for songs are equally headache-inducing, spending barely a single second on any one shot. While I don't think people will, on mass, ever turn their backs on books, our shorter and shorter attention spans is worrying.As for the prose, it's at times quite obfuscating. Descriptions become metaphors that might or might not be really happening, it's hard to say. The cloudiness of the language is poetic in tone but confusing in substance. I wouldn't say the strength of the book lies in its prose, the style of the writing, but in its ideas - for an "ideas" kind of book, it's surprisingly plot-driven. I find that this is the best way to bring ideas across, rather than through people just talking or confounding, "clever" descriptions. To see the ideas in action, that is more rewarding.There was a slip - I only noticed one but there may have been more - when Montag likens his wife's friends' smiles to the Cheshire Cat. There's no way he could have known what a Cheshire Cat smile was like, no way he'd have even heard of it. There is an emphasis on the fact that when Montag tries to read the books he's stolen, they make no sense to him because he lacks the basics, the foundations of knowledge. He has no culture or understanding with which to interpret what he reads. To him it's just gibberish.This is an older edition that I picked up secondhand; it contains a surprising number of very obvious typos - things like "th" instead of "the", and quotation marks in the wrong places. It has an Afterword by the author, and a "Coda" where Bradbury unashamedly rants a bit more about minorities complaining and why his books are, essentially, sexist. To the first, I was puzzled: I haven't really seen much of that. But then I recalled where I have heard these kinds of things, where librarians have locked away books (like the first Tin Tin comic) because they are too confronting or insulting to one group or another: Bradbury's home country, America. So if anything, he wrote this book in answer to what was happening, and continues to happen, in his own country. It's bound to have more of an impact there, for that reason, though it's relevant elsewhere as well. It's impossible to appease everyone, so when you try to the only thing you can do is simply remove what was upsetting a few, rather than talk openly about it and air the issues. You can't make everyone happy, but that is what the people in Bradbury's world set out to do, by making them all the same.In answer to why he doesn't put more women in his books, he avoids the question and instead lumps women - half the population - in with minorities. I get his point but it's a weak argument.The book reminded me of a more recent movie, Equilibrium, with Christian Bale - a sort of 1984 world where people are burned alive for owning anything from the past, and where children spy on their parents. Those stories always have a whiff of anti-communism fascism - something strikingly absent from a book like this, written as it was during the Cold War. It was quite refreshing really.On a final note, I did once try to watch the movie, from the 70s I think, several years ago but it was incredibly slow and boring, I had no idea what was going on and after a while I gave up. From what I remember of it, I'm not sure I'd like it any more now that I've read the book.


I am in 6th grade. My Language Arts teacher assigns us a book report; tells us we can choose the book but that our grade will be based on the maturity of the novel the report is based upon.My mother and I are in K-mart. I've mentioned to her about this book report to be done, and so before we leave with a basket filled with clothes I know I will be embarrassed to wear, we stop by the rack of books. She selects a few pulp paperback titles, throws them into the cart.A few days later she hands me Fahrenheit 451. "I've read those books I purchased," she says. "I think this is the best of the bunch. You should like it."I am skeptical. When does a 12 year-old boy like anything that his mother does? I admit to myself that the cover looks really awesome - a black suited, menacing man shooting flames over something that looks like books. I give it a go.Tearing through the pages, the chapters, the three sections, I finish it over a weekend and am in awe. A fireman that starts fires? Books are outlawed? I look at the small library that I've had since childhood; a shelf of about 30 books. They now look to my 12 year old eyes as books of a child. Fahrenheit 451 is the book that launched me from childhood, my first book dealing with the adult world.I ask my mother to box up my old books and put them in the attic. I am proud to start a new library with this novel as my first edition. I carefully, lovingly, sign my name on the inside cover. Let the firemen come, I think, I am proud to be a book-reader. I continue to read this book again and again through the years. I enroll in a college course at Penn State my freshman year, simply because this book is on the course materials. I memorized the entire poem Dover Beach because it is the selection Bradbury chose to have Montag read aloud to his wife and her friends. As the years roll by, and I age through my 20s and 30s, I noticed that fewer and fewer of the people I know read any books. Even my avid reading friends from childhood moved on to their careers, their marriages, their children. In the late 1990s a friend invited me to his house to show off a proud new purchase - a television screen the size of one of his walls. I mention how frightening this was, that he was basically mainlining Bradbury's foreshadowing. He handed me a beer and fired up Star Wars; told me to relax. I watched the movie and felt like a traitor.The last time I read F451 was about 10 years ago - I think I was afraid that if I were to pick it up again that it would diminish in its importance to me - much like Catch-22 and The Sun Also Rises. But on this first day in May I have a day-trip to Socal for business and I bring this book with me. And I love it, all over again, as if reading it for the first time. Until Infinite Jest came along, this was my favorite book. I remember why.I joined Goodreads in 2009 with low expectations. I am not a social media person. I've given up twice on Facebook; the last time for good. But there was something I found here that reminded me of Montag's joining the campfire of fellow readers. We may all be from different walks of life from places all around the world, but we come here often and with excitement - because we love books. They are some of the most important things to us and our lives would be ruined without them.So to you, my fellow Goodreaders, tonight I raise a glass to each of you, and I want to say thank you thank you thank you for making my life better, for exposing me to authors I would have never known, and for reminding me that although I'll never get to all of the books I want to read in this life, I can stand on the shoulders of you giants and witness more of the wonders of the written word.


In Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury has created a world that chillingly seems to reflect our present and near future. In this upside down dystopia, firemen burn books, women congregate with their fake wall (television) families, youth engage in high speed car chases, killing themselves and others, and products are promoted on 200 ft billboards, and hawked by Jesus Christ. In this world where supposedly everyone has everything one wants, no one is truly happy, no one loves anyone, and unhappy people overdose on drugs. No one slows down to smell the flowers, taste the rain, sit by a fire, talk with friends, or just sit and think. No one cares that that the world seems to have been at war for as long as anyone can remember, with fighter jets streaking above their homes everyday. After all, no one has to sacrifice anything; its always someone else's spouse or child that dies.Guy Montag was a faithful citizen of this world, satisfied with his job of burning books, until he has a chance encounter with his new neighbor, a strange, precocious 16 year old who is wise beyond her years. Clarisse McClellan changes his views of the world dramatically with her strange habits of tasting the rain, gazing at the moon, and asking pointed questions as to why he became a fireman, whether he loves anyone or whether he is happy. An awakened, transformed Montag, after failing to impress and change his shallow and depressed wife and others around him with his new-found wisdom, is discovered, hunted, and is forced to flee the city. He joins a vagabond group of outlaw-professors, who plan to restore the world by imparting the wisdom they have gained by memorizing books.This is the best novel depicting our future world that I have read. Other books, like Brave New World present a frightening, realistic future, but have poor plot and characterization. On the other hand, books such as 1984 and Animal Farm are thrilling and well told, but really do not reflect our future very well. FAHRENHEIT 451 does both, and does so brilliantly. Apart from depicting a realistic and scary future, Bradbury writes a tight, exciting plot packed with suspense, including fires, chases, murder, suicides, and nuclear war. I could scarcely put the book down, wondering what Montag was going to do next. Although it is but a short story, the characters, including Montag, his shallow but deeply depressed wife Millie, the youthful but insightful Clarisse, the cowardly but wise Faber, and the disillusioned arrogant bully Beatty are engaging and fully realized.


What if books ceased to exist? What if the society you live in, goodreaders, brainwashed you into thinking books were bad? Every single printed word on bookshelves, in homes, in libraries, in schools was forbidden and to own a book meant that you would be imprisoned or (even worse) killed for such an action. What if you knew that such printed words were important? What if you believed maintaining their existence was a necessity regardless of the serious consequences of preserving their survival? Guy Montag, a fireman, whose primary job in a dysotopian reality is to set fire to these books instead of putting the fires out. But he knows there is something fundamentally flawed about this concept. He doesn’t want to burn books. He wants to preserve them so that mankind can continue to acquire knowledge instead of witnessing ideas and works of imagination cast into the flames of censorship. The world around him does not understand this conviction. To do so would be extremely dangerous. Guy Montague is willing to take that risk and go against the very society that made him question his role in the world.


Since this book, Fahrenheit 451, is about burning texts, and Goodreads is currently indulging in burning our texts, and will delete my review regardless of whether what I write here is ON TOPIC or not (yes Goodreads staff member, this book is about burning books, so if I write that here, what I write is both ON TOPIC and ABOUT THE BOOK (you obviously have not read the books on which we have written reviews that you've been deleting)), I will not bother to write a review, since some pretext will be devised to delete it anyway.


It’s easy to see why ‘Farenheit 451’ is a cult classic, beloved by the majority of bookworms. Oh, it validates us, doesn’t it? Here is a future world where books are banned, and look at this; it has gone to the dogs. The saddest of all post-apocalyptic worlds, the bleakest dystopia, what a nightmare – NO BOOKS!The good are those who read, the bad are those who watch the TV. Yes, this is what we like to read to make us feel all warm inside. And because of that we are seemingly willing to forgive Bradbury for a lot of things: really poor world-building skills, lacklustre characterisation, inconsistencies. Oh, and sexism. The women in the books are generally brainwashed bimbos, except of course for the wonder-child Clarisse from the beginning of the book, who is a representation of a very annoying archetype as well. And you would think that, since the book is mostly an endless roll call of all the authors and books that need to be salvaged from the fire, at least ONE female author would get a mention. Nope. Zero. They can all burn for all that Bradbury cares. After all, the secret gang dedicated to preserving the world literary heritage is made up entirely of men. Now, this to me does look like a very sad world indeed.Go and read Farenheit 451. It’s not a novel in its fully developed sense, more of an allegory, a hyperbole and Bradbury occasionally produces sentences of startling beauty. The problem with this book is the same problem there is with a world without books – it’s somewhat flat, somewhat numb.


Visionary writing from the very skilled writer/artist Ray Bradbury. The plot and characters all done well. He writes about an era where firemen create fires to burn books, one fireman decides to see what all the fuss is about and one day keeps one book for himself. This sets himself on a deadly path of self-discovery that turns him into the hunted. His life turns upside down, eventually he meets a group of people who have memorized and preserved books to memory, this society wanted to keep books of the past in hope of a new generation and society to come and benefit from the knowledge. This story is in the same sort of vein as 1984 and i rate very highly and recommend. Bradbury portrays a dystopian future that could one day come about, start making those panic rooms! Bradbury's face is in there, from one of his books.. The movie images.. http://more2read.com/?review=fahrenheit-451-by-ray-bradbury


Few appreciate irony as much as I do, so understand that I understand this review. The message of this book is decent: knowledge should not be censored. However, the rest of the book is utter shit. I found myself actually screaming at several points as Bradbury spent minutes and dozens of metaphors and allusions referring to one insignificant detail of the plot. It is too damn flowery to be understandable by anyone! In other words, an English teacher's dream. In addition, the story was about the message not the story in and of itself. Those of you who know me understand that this is that I detest most about classics, tied with how everyone reveres them without reading them.The Coda and Afterword just add to the confuse making me confused on whether Bradbury is a very hateful man or just a hypocrite. The main plot of the novel itself is that the majority rule canceled out intellectualism while in the Coda (maybe Afterword, I don't remember which was which) Bradbury blasts minorities (all, including racial, religious, etc.) for creating an overly sensitive society. Oddly enough, his heroes are the minority. Ha. Furthermore, the Coda is a hefty "Fuck you" to anyone that wants to critique his work in any way not positive. Therefore, I feel obliged to respond in turn: "Fuck you, Ray Bradbury. Your writing style is shit and I won't force it on my worst enemy." Harsh, I know, but true. If you do need to read this book, I suggest a Cliff Notes version as long as you can appreciate that irony.

MJ Nicholls

Bradbury was wrong. In our dystopian future, so many books of no value are published, and all the genuinely worthwhile ones are squeezed into insignificance, left to rot out of print, or are refused publication. See the BURIED Book Club for professional help. People are avaricious, brainless, crassholic, dreary, ectoblastic, fungible, gravideonasties, hopelessismore, imbecilickal, jugheadish, knobbled, leery, moronic, Neanderthal, octopusillanimous, protopathetic, querulouselike, rumplestiltskinless, simpletonian, twitchy, unloveababble, vertiginous, weak-mindead, yoghurt-obsessed, and zoologically backward. Bradbury’s short pulp novel is weakly written, full of functional and creakily literary prose, but delivers the message with minimum condescension. Truffaut trumped, but Bradbury dreamt. Great art gains in every medium.


It’s time to do it, isn’t it? You know it is. We’ve all done it before, no sense in resisting the temptation to do it yet again. The sun has set, the skies have turned a sensational shade of indigo, the interior lighting is seductively dimmed. The house is otherwise empty, and not expecting additional occupancy any time soon. The blinds are down, curtains drawn tightly. The stereo is playing softly; isn’t that your favorite slow-jam? Of course it is. Thwart all possible interruptions; turn off your cell phone and disconnect the house line, only after placing a fraudulent call to the guy manning the nearest tornado alert siren telling him he’s got the night off. Nothing is going to get in your way. You lay back slowly, hardly able to contain the anxiety of awaiting the pleasures which are soon to commence. Relax. Examine the articles which you’ve assembled to increase the forthcoming flood of sensations; silk boxers and a plush robe for maximum comfort and style, instead of the usual barrage of Coors and Captain, you’re tapping into the reserves of Lindeman’s and Chambord, a fresh pack of Camels. You’ve even put a new dryer sheet in the blow-tube. Give in to any last minute impulses: feel free to slick your hair back, put a foot over that line in the sand you ordinarily wouldn’t cross. Everything is going your way. You’re set.Slowly place it in your hand, lift it up a little, don’t be afraid to gaze at it with affection and admiration for its worth. It’s quite a marvel, isn’t it. Perhaps the careful application of a gentle caress or a little squeeze before beginning will make all the difference. Feel free to use your non-dominant hand should you get to indulge in this more frequently than most. As a last precaution, double-check that the reduced lighting is ample for your needs, heed your mother’s warning that this can make you go blind. While still softly cradling the underside, lovingly wrap your thumb around the side and over the top. You’re ready to manhandle it bilaterally now. It responds accordingly, the cover opens smoothly, a sharp intake of breath: Fahrenheit 451 begins. As strange as it may seem, I don’t think I enjoyed this quite as much as I did on previous reads. Perhaps Bradbury’s classic is getting stale, or maybe I should take my own advice and employ a switch-handed approach next time. What I found to be really unexpected is that this time around I appreciated different aspects of the book than I did previously. On my first few reads of F451 I was naturally consumed (not to mention mortified) by the prospect of Fireman enlisted to seek out and destroy the world of literature my young mind was coming to embrace. Now, nearing the age where I’d always imagined I’d be sent off to the savannah to die alone, I’ve come to realize that while the Fireman aren’t necessary, I’m all for a reduction in the publication of completely pointless, brain-damaging crap. While I don’t fathom I’ll ever be entirely convinced of the heralded merits of ‘Living Green’, I will say that I’ve always considered stock car racing and the release of shitty books to be equally poor usage of natural resources. This is probably because in the elapsed time I’ve read “The Bell Jar” and “Story of the Eye”, which I am sure some people will cherish and find significant, but naturally it’s my taste that ultimately matters. Sarcasm probably doesn’t come across too well without italics.There was the time I thought maybe Clarisse was the engrossing aspect of the book. That inspirational, blossoming young woman who contrastingly stands out in the nightmarish landscape of Bradbury’s future like a daisy springing from the concrete on Wacker drive in downtown Chicago. In time I’ve come to expect that nothing good will come to these liberated souls, and like the daisy, she is also duly pulverized by oncoming traffic. Then came the reading where I sought to find significance behind the enigmatic nature of Fire Captain Beatty and the Hound. Beatty, who is the head book-burner capable of quoting from significant works through the ages, the self-hating bibliophile. It almost seems like a gyp that the Captain’s obviously interesting and divergent past isn’t recounted. I also thought maybe there was something more going on behind the cold, lifeless eyes of the Hound; prompted by the hostile (almost precognitive) attitude which it directs at Montag, and the announcement in the book that a Hound was released against the firemen in it’s own precinct. What might have been going on in that nameless Firehouse? Perhaps a whole station of firemen stockpiling, storing, hoarding books, the Hound finally unable to passively stand by and endure this dereliction of duty. Again, I got older and wiser, and realized what was going on here: in Montag’s world, everything has been fireproofed, thus no more need for fire hydrants, thus one upset pooch that’s been holding an aching urination for its entire existence.Reading F451 now, what I probably liked most was the world and backstory which Bradbury built around Montag’s awakening. Previously, I felt that the story completely revolved around the concept of the Firemen, and that the ridiculous society which spawned such an occupation was mere filler. I’m now leaning the other way, mainly because I agree with a small message which Bradbury buries in the book; that the reason the world ended up this way was because the voice of the minority clusters rose up and was obeyed; as Beatty states “It didn’t come from the Government down. There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship, to start with, no! Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick.” In an effort to make sure nobody’s feelings were hurt, anything which offended anyone was destroyed, a pure sign of progress. Yes, sarcasm again. “I protest, sir! Your book contains a statement in which the narrator derides someone for dancing ‘as if he had two left feet’!” trills the pear-shaped, discontented mother. “That’s possible.” The pothead author meekly rebuts, trying to recount just what the hell his latest book was even about. “My son was born with two left feet, and your vile, thoughtless trash insults his very nature,” she continues, “do you have any idea how he will feel should his innocent eyes happen to stray upon your story?” “Um, I guess he might feel like clumsily side-shuffling over to kick my ass?” And straight to the incinerator with book and author both.I sincerely do loathe this pandering to the minority at the expense to the majority, and can only expect the bleakest outcome to follow should we persist in this path. I think about this every time I have to confirm to the ATM machine that I do indeed want my transaction in English, and feel the bile rising up as I try to ignore the Braille beneath each number, seeing as this is a drive-thru machine. You’re not supposed to voice those unpopular opinions though, that’s cruelty, probably prosecutable these days. I envision a future in which the only person you can beat the shit out of without it being recorded as a ‘hate crime’ is a clone of yourself. It’s probably me just getting old and crotchety, but I now feel like I can better appreciate Bradbury’s dreary imaginings. The pace of life sped up beyond reason, the incessant babble pouring from the morons Mildred associates with via the wallscreens, espousing their inane thoughts on voting and child-rearing, and all the while, the few non-mutants simply falling into lockstep with this insanity, barely raising their voices to call for a cessation of the madness. I finally see F451 as something beyond a statement on censorship, I see it as an indictment of the people we’re allowing ourselves to become.


so i decided that this is the summer i read all the books i "should" have read by now- all the classics i have not gotten around to. this was, oddly, sparked by that asshole that said to alyssa "this is why small bookstores are better - no one in big bookstores knows anything about books". which is, of course, inaccurate and ridiculous - poor alyssa is a nineteen year old girl who has not read any philip roth, and wasnt able to recommend a title to the (fifty year old) man but has probably read more books than most people you will pass on the street today. (unless you live on bookland ave) and i love small bookstores, but that is not the point. another thing that is not the point is that there are other people in the store besides the nineteen year old girl who is really not the target audience for philip roth, and between tom and greg alone, all the philip roth books have been read. so i just started thinking about all the books i havent read that are canonical (not philip roth - ive read four and its plenty) but, say, fahrenheit 451. so long review short, i read this yesterday. and its pretty much what i expected. even if you havent read it, you know what it is about, and i think it makes important points, but it just wont make my all-time-favorite list. but im glad i read it. his afterword is very good - i think i may have liked it more than the novel itself. so.

Huda Yahya

"الأفكار ليها أجنحة ماحدش يقدر يمنعها توصل للناس"ـــــــــــــــإذا كنت قد شاهدت الكتب تحترق في فيلم العبقري يوسف شاهين ووقعت في غرام الفيلم والمشهدفربما هذا الكتاب يكون لك*-*عندما تصبح قراءة الكتب جريمةفي هذه الرواية يطرح راي برادبوري أسوأ سيناريو لعشاق الكتبماذا لو كنا نعيش في عالم تخلص نهائياً من الكتب وجرم من يحملها أو ينقلها أو يحتفظ بها؟مونتاج هو بطل الرواية يعمل كرجل حريقومهمته ليست إطفاء الحرائق كما قد تظن بل إشعالها!وقبعات رجال الحريق تحمل الرقم 451 ومنها إستمدت الرواية عنوانهايصحو مونتاج من النوم ، ينظر إلى زوجته ، ترقد جواره كجسد في قبرلا يشعر بشيءربما بعض الأسى ، اللامبالاة ، وكثير من الملل والاختناقيخرج لسانه لوحش اللإضطراب النفسي الذي ينهشهماتبتلع الزوجة قرصاً ،، تشاهد التلفازستقوم كالعادة بمحاولة إنتحار جديدةيمضي مونتاج إلى عملهكان من الممتع أن تحرقIt was a pleasure to burn! مونتاج يعمل في المؤسسة الحكومية الكبرى لبلد شمولي(أي تحت نظام سياسي يحتكر فيه حزب واحد كامل السلطة ولا يسمح بظهور معارضة)ـوهذا الحزب يكرس كل إمكاناته في محاربة الكلمة المكتوبة يفتش عنها بشهوة في الليل ولا مانع أبداً يا مونتاج من حرق المكان الذي يحوي الكتاب إن إستلزم الأمر أو خرجت الأمور عن السيطرة*-*احشِ الناس بالحقائق سريعة الاحتراق حتى يشعروا بأنهم أذكياء لاتنسهذه رواية خيال علميهناك كلاب إلكترونية ،، وآلات ناطقةوكبسات الزر هنا لا نتنهيوعالم التلفاز يحتل كل الوقت ما تبقى من العقولفأي حكم شمولي كالذي قد تراه في رواية أخرى كرائعة جورج اورويل 1984وفي عالمنا الحقيقي تعيش بعض مشاهده كل يومهذا النوع من الحكم يهدف إلى السيطرة على العقولغسيل الأدمغةوحشوها بمعلبات جاهزة تشعر من يتلقاها بأنه ذكي ومثقفبينما هو في الحقيقة مجرد ترس في آلة كبرى تعمل لمصلحتها أولاً واخراًالمخابيل يفضلون الموت مع كتبهم .. هذا نمط سلوكي معتاد أظنني من هؤلاء المخابيلوهي كلمة وردت على لسان أحد زملاء مونتاج عن عجوز أبت أن تترك كتبها وفضلت الاحتراق معهاومونتاج يتعلميقابل من يحدث شقاً في عقلهيحاول منه طرح الأسئلةما الداعي لاغتيال الكتب بهذه الطريقة؟يحاول أن يجد جواباً ويبدأ في سرقة وقراءة الكتب بنفسهيقابل الثواروهم أناس يعيشون على أطراف هذا العالم المجنون*-*عندما تصبح أنت كتاباًتصور أن تكون مهمتك في الحياة هي الحفاظ على تراث العالمثقافتهتخيل نفسك كتاباً يمشي ويتنفسهؤلاء هم الثوارواحد منهم هو ماكبث يحفظها حتي يصير هو المسرحية نفسهاالثاني فاوست تغلغلت بداخله كل كلمة منها وكل نقطة وكل حرفالثالثة جمهورية أفلاطونلا ينادونها بغير ذلكوهكذا تتجسد الكلمة حية من لحم ودمتتوارثها الكائنات الحيةوتحفظ للعالم حقه فيها*-*راي برادبوري واحد من أعظم كتاب الخيال في العالمو هو هنا يستخدم كل ما هو ممكن أدبياً لصقل روايتهفلن تجد كلمة واحدة في غير موضعهاأو صفة بلا تلميح ساخرأو إسم لا يعني شيئاً ما يرتبط بالروايةمن الممتع أن تقرأ لهتعيش في قصصهتستمتع باسلوبه وصورهتطارده مثلي بين عشرات القصص التي أقرأها له ولا أشبع!*-*قدمت دار الشروق نسخة عربية للروايةولكنني أظن أن ترجمة أحمد خالد توفيق (ضمن سلسلة روايات عالمية للجيب) ستكون أفضل


Farenheit 451 has been analyzed and reinterpreted by every successive generation to change its meaning. This is chiefly because the book is full of assumptions and vague symbolism which can be taken many ways, and rarely does anyone come away from the book with the conclusion the author intended, which would suggest that it is a failed attempt.There are grounds to contend that even the title is inaccurate, since contemporary sources suggest paper combusts at 450 degrees Celsius, which in Farenheit would be more than 800 degrees. The truth is, paper combustion is gradual and dependent on many factors; even if some paper might combust at 451F, his title is at best an oversimplification, but Bradbury was more interested in a punchy message than in constructing a thoughtful and well-supported argument.It's not a book about book censorship, but a book about how TV will rot your brain. Bradbury himself has stated this again and again, as evidenced in this article which quotes Bradbury and in videos from Bradbury's own website.This book falls somewhat short of its satirical mark based on this cranky lawn-loving neighbor's message. Then again, it was written in the course of a few days in one long, uninterrupted slurry (mercifully edited by his publishers, but now available utterly restored). Contains archetypes, misconceptions, and an author surrogate; but can still be seen as a slighting view of authority and power, and of the way people are always willing to deceive themselves.Unfortunately, Bradbury did not seem to recognize that reading has always been the province of a minority and that television would do little to kill it. More books are written, published, and read today than at any other point in history. Most of them are just redundant filler, but so is 90% of any mass creative output, books, art, movies, or TV, as Sturgeon said. And there's nothing new about that, either: cheap novels have been a joke since the Victorian.Television is a different medium than books, and has its own strengths and weaknesses. Bradbury's critique of TV--that it will get larger, more pervasive, and become an escape for small minds--is just as true of books. As for television damaging social interaction, who is less culturally aware: the slack-jawed boy watching television or the slack-jawed boy reading one uninspired relic of genre fiction after another? I read a lot of books as a kid and watched a lot of TV, and each medium provided something different. Neither one displaced the other, since reading and watching aren't the same experience. There is an egalitarian obsession that people are all capable of being informed and intelligent. We now send everyone to college, despite the fact that for most people, college is not a viable or useful route. The same elitism that values degrees values being 'well-read', and since this is the elitism of the current power structure, it is idealized by the less fortunate subcultures. Bradbury became informed not because he read, but by what he read. He could have read a schlocky pop novel every day for life and still been as dull as the Vidscreen zombies he condemns.He has mistaken the medium for the message, and his is a doubly mixed message, coming from a man who had his own TV show.

Jason Pettus

Ray Bradbury has never sat comfortably in the world of literature, nor with me; considered a "genre writer" by some and meant as an insult, a "serious writer" by others and meant as a compliment, it seems that I am always going back and forth about his merits in my head too, especially the farther away we get from many of the books' original publication dates. That said, how can you not love Fahrenheit 451, a virtual blueprint for the Cautionary Science Fiction Tale with Modern Political Overtones? Boldly envisioning a future where the general populace is hooked on mindless television, Bradbury subverts our modern "fire department" to one now in charge of starting fires, in this case the various paperback books occasionally found in people's homes that are now illegal. It's clunky, yes, a little pat now as well; but it's a very important book from a historical standpoint, not to mention still a great little story (not to mention the inspiration for one of François Truffaut's best films).


٤٥١ الدرجة التي تحترق عندها الكتب____________________خير اللهم اجعله خيركابوس هذا وليست روايةهذا الكتاب وإن كان مصنفا ضمن الخيال العلمي، إلا أنني أكاد أجزم أن بوادر حصوله في عالمنا العربي قريبة، وإرهاصات وقوعه عندنا ليست ببعيدةتخيل أن يتم الاستغناء عن العلوم الإنسانية؟!!! وتغلق أقسامها في الجامعاتتصور كيف سيعيش الناس وحيازة الكتب عامة ممنوعة ومخالفة للقانون ويحرق بيت صاحبهابل حتى التفكير يصنف على أنه من قلة عقل والتفكر يصبح جنونا صرفا بلاأدنى ريبوالناس يتم التحكم بهم وتوجيه مسارهم للانشغال بالتفاهات عن طريق سماعات في أذانهم وشاشات في جدارن منازلهم مربوطة بشبكة تبث السخافات لتلهيهم عن واقعهموغير هذا وذاك من المآسييقال أن المؤلف ألف هذا الكتاب ردا على عضو الكونجرس (مكارثي) في هجومه على المثقفينوالسؤال: كم من مكارثي عندنا في عالمنا العربي:/لا أريد أن أفكر في عددهم فهو جنون كما تعلمت من الرواية:$

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