Animal Farm, George Orwell




Fucking pigs. That’s my two-word review of Animal Farm.

Bookstravaganza is the perfect opportunity to catch up on books that I feel like I should have read before or during my English degree. (Orwell’s 1984 is another one I should add to my pile, but I couldn’t find it during my excursion to the Wee Book Inn. I’d once told a person that I’d never read it, and he remarked: “How can you call yourself an English major?” And now I fear that, one day, someone will come and take away my degree before I can finish it.)

The political allegory in this book is so obvious that I found myself fighting to read something else from it. You don’t need to tell me that the hearts of men and pigs are easily corrupted.


I bought a used copy of this novel that was fairly damaged, and I feel strange knowing that my need to have all of my books in pristine condition has subsided. There’s a story behind the folds and scribbles in this book. I imagine a student scratched angry eyebrows on the pig while he was bored during a lecture. Only one phrase was underlined (i’m certain with the same blue pen) in the book: “were perpetually fighting among themselves and were also rapidly starving to death.” What significance did this have for you, Reader? Did your teacher/prof tell you to underline it? (Don’t worry, that’s usually the only reason I wrote in my own books.)

We should meet and talk about what this book meant to you, Reader. And you should read this book, Blog Reader. Let’s talk about Socialism.

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