1984 (2, 10) A Hopeless Fancy
Mar. 29th, 2013 07:19 amIt was only an 'opeless fancy.
It passed like an Ipril dye,
But a look an' a word an' the dreams they stirred!
They 'ave stolen my 'eart awye!
They sye that time 'eals all things,
They sye you can always forget;
But the smiles an' the tears across the years
They twist my 'eart-strings yet!
-- “1984” by George Orwell
Our sleepyheads get up. They think it is still heading toward evening, when they have actually slept around the clock and it is a fine morning - summer, I think. They hear the fat, proletarian woman singing that song again. Orwell also has our lovers immediately get dressed. In the movie version, starring John Hurt, they correct this unfortunate, prissy step. In the movie, the lovers remain in their prelapsarian nakedness as they look out the window at the woman “pegging out more diapers, and more and yet more.”
Winston is in such a fine, transcendent mood, sated with sleep and sex, he begins to feel that the prole woman is beautiful.
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It had never before occurred to him that the body of a woman of fifty, blown up to monstrous dimensions by childbearing, then hardened, roughened by work till it was coarse in the grain like an overripe turnip, could be beautiful. But it was so, and after all, he thought, why not? The solid, contourless body, like a block of granite, and the rasping red skin, bore the same relation to the body of a girl as the rose-hip to the rose. Why should the fruit be held inferior to the flower?
“She’s beautiful,” he murmured.
“She’s a meter across the hips, easily,” said Julia.
“That is her style of beauty,” said Winston.
He held Julia’s supple waist easily encircled by his arm. From the hip to the knee her flank was against his. Out of their bodies no child would ever come.
-- 1984 by George Orwell
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It passed like an Ipril dye,
But a look an' a word an' the dreams they stirred!
They 'ave stolen my 'eart awye!
They sye that time 'eals all things,
They sye you can always forget;
But the smiles an' the tears across the years
They twist my 'eart-strings yet!
-- “1984” by George Orwell
Our sleepyheads get up. They think it is still heading toward evening, when they have actually slept around the clock and it is a fine morning - summer, I think. They hear the fat, proletarian woman singing that song again. Orwell also has our lovers immediately get dressed. In the movie version, starring John Hurt, they correct this unfortunate, prissy step. In the movie, the lovers remain in their prelapsarian nakedness as they look out the window at the woman “pegging out more diapers, and more and yet more.”
Winston is in such a fine, transcendent mood, sated with sleep and sex, he begins to feel that the prole woman is beautiful.
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
It had never before occurred to him that the body of a woman of fifty, blown up to monstrous dimensions by childbearing, then hardened, roughened by work till it was coarse in the grain like an overripe turnip, could be beautiful. But it was so, and after all, he thought, why not? The solid, contourless body, like a block of granite, and the rasping red skin, bore the same relation to the body of a girl as the rose-hip to the rose. Why should the fruit be held inferior to the flower?
“She’s beautiful,” he murmured.
“She’s a meter across the hips, easily,” said Julia.
“That is her style of beauty,” said Winston.
He held Julia’s supple waist easily encircled by his arm. From the hip to the knee her flank was against his. Out of their bodies no child would ever come.
-- 1984 by George Orwell
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>