In continuing my ever-growing love for dystopian novels, I finally got around to reading this modern classic that I was bought last Christmas. Yeah, 2013, a long time ago now, but with all of the A level reading and the two foot high stack of unread books I have, it kind of got pushed back along with everything else. I wish I'd read this sooner though, because it is brilliant.
The first thing that made love this book is, unsurprisingly, the fact that it's about books. A book about books but also about so much more than just books. That's the dream, and it's so impeccably fulfilled. Bradbury's language is so poetic and articulate, it is a pleasure to read. He creates a plot that provides enough background information about the futuristic American society in which books are outlawed, without revealing too much that would eradicate the unsettled mystery of the novel. A prime example of such mystery lies in the horror that is the Mechanical Hound: an eight-legged, dog-like robot that helps the firemen as they burn all books that are found. Eight-legged dog-like robot? What a perfect creation for a dystopian, and one which I still can't quite fathom or visualise precisely in my mind. My image of the Hound changed a lot throughout the novel as I learnt more about it, which was actually quite beneficial to me. I often find that creating and altering images of characters (if the Hound can be called a character?) in my mind improves my own creative writing skills. It reminds me to consider how the reader will visualise the characters which I create. In some cases, I like characters to be described perfectly so that I can picture them, but sometimes the vague mystery just works, and this is one of those cases. What's more, the Hound is seriously terrifying. It's so scary that the unrealistic basis of it becomes void because I'm too busy hiding under my quilt to realise that no such creature could actually be real. Well played, Bradbury.My favourite character at first was Clarisse, then it became Faber, then Clarisse again, and now I've given up because they're both fantastic. Clarisse reminds me very much - and I hope the aged 30+ readers who deem Harry Potter not worthy of being classed as 'literature' will forgive me for this; I am one of the lucky generation who grew up around the series - of Luna Lovegood. Mystical, fascinating and endlessly thoughtful. This is the kind of person I aspire to be. The reason I love Faber is quite different. His character is so honest, so openly aware of his faults and determined to teach the lessons he has learnt from them to Guy. Then there is Guy himself, who I also love, but in a way that everyone loves the protagonist of a novel no matter what. His thoughts captivated me, observing his psychological change as he goes from being ignorantly content in his corrupt occupation, to inexplicably stirred by the wonder that is Clarisse McClellan and subsequently realises that he isn't happy.
Obviously I'm not going to talk about the ending of the novel, or even the middle, because I'm not that cruel and I understand that many people won't have read it. However I will say this: dystopian novels are some of the trickiest to end in a way that will satisfy the reader. I understand this, and so I always approach such endings with an open mind. Fahrenheit 451, I was pleased to discover, ends not without risk, but not without hope, and is played safely. Whilst I am more than happy with the way it ended, it is one of the few novels that I would have loved to read a sequel to. Without an inch of a doubt, I recommend this novel to anyone willing to trust my judgement (especially if you're a fellow avid fan of dystopian literature).
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