In the spirit of ‘newspeak’, I thought I’d celebrate the semisesquicentennial of the publishing of 1984 by re-reading the book (again for the first time) — another of those dusty greats from the college library bookshelf. As cautionary tales go, it seemed to be a timely moment — poised, as we are (in the collective, North American sense) on the eve of the US primaries; and what looks to be a bit of a septuagenerian gunfight at the less-than-O.K. corral. In short, lots of noise, no real victory for anyone, and very few shots hitting any target of much worth.

George Orwell is back in vogue these days . . .1984 shot up the bestseller charts, and the trail doesn’t just go cold there. Soon joining it at the top were 1984’s old dystopian buddies, Brave New World and It Can’t Happen Here; in the meantime, sales of The Handmaid’s Tale were up 30 percent in 2016. (Yvonne Shiau, Electric Lit, July 26, 2017).

Bear in mine, of course, that the quote hails from the era six short months following the squeaker that saw DJT in the photo finish that was the 2016 elections — and the (presumed) beginning of autocracy in America. Not surprisingly, one might expect a scramble to revisit volumes purporting to describe events similar to those that seemed to be unfolding in a very real world. What better way to push thoughts to the margins of mind . . . than by reading worse case scenarios! The ‘This is an unbelievable turn of events. But it could be worse’ mindset! Just have a look at Lewis, Atwood, Huxley, or Orwell. Now I feel better. Just fiction, just some disenfranchised misanthrope ruminating about stuff that’s more sci-fi than fact, more fantasy than reality. Denial’s a beautiful thing.

Not too far into the drab tale of Winston Smith’s life, Orwell describes his protagonist’s ‘work’ in the Ministry of Truth’s Records Department, one of many charged with the task of rewriting history — to ensure consistency with a ‘version’ that suited a political end:

This process of continuous alteration was applied .  . .to every kind of literature or documentation which might conceivably hold any political or ideological significance. Day by day and almost minute by minute the past was brought up to date. In this way every prediction made by the Party could be shown by documentary evidence to have been correct. Nor was any item of news, or any expression of opinion, which conflicted with the needs of the moment, ever allowed to remain on record. All history was a palimpsest, scraped clean and reinscribed exactly as often as was necessary. (Part I, Ch. 4)

And later, as he explores a pawn shop:

Books, also, were recalled and rewritten again and again, and were invariably reissued without any admission that any alteration had been made. . .The hunting-down and destruction of books had been done with the same thoroughness . . . (that) it was very unlikely that there existed anywhere in Oceania a copy of a book printed earlier than 1960. (Part I, Ch. 8)

Ah, yes!  But what’s that expression: truth is stranger than fiction. Is it just an echo in the room or did I just hear Kellyanne Conway defending Sean Spicer’s inaugural press conference as a citation of ‘alternative facts’. Or perhaps Jan. 6, 2021 having reverted to ‘legitimate political discourse’. Or better:  ‘You know, if you didn’t know the TV footage was a video from January the 6th, you would actually think it was a normal tourist visit.’ Thanks for that, Andrew (Clyde), I’ll get in touch with the Truth Ministry shortly and let them know we have a candidate for Winston’s job. And who needs all those big, empty buildings (libraries, I think they used to be called) when two or three shelves should be lots to house the ‘approved reading material’ left in some states. Hmm — fiction, I wonder? Huxley’s, Atwood’s, or Orwell’s dark and feared (but prescient) guesses at what the events of their respective times might look like . . . if given freer rein?

Particularly unnerving is Sinclair Lewis’ 1935 novel, It Can’t Happen Here. The Wikipedia plot summary pretty much makes the point: 

The novel describes the rise of (insert autocrat of your choice), a demagogue who is elected President of the United States, after fomenting fear and promising drastic economic and social reforms while promoting a return to patriotism and “traditional” values. After his election, _________ takes complete control of the government via self-coup and imposes totalitarian rule with the help of a ruthless paramilitary force. (It Can’t Happen Here, n.d.)

More reality echoes: Maga, self-coup (election denial/fraud), totalitarian rule (‘I’d only be a dictator for day one), paramilitary force (Proud Boys and Oathkeepers). Just another ‘misanthropic’ novelist trading on the rise of fascism (in the run up to WWII). Or. . .

And then along came Rachel Maddow’s Prequel. Subtitled An American Fight Against Fascism, it chronicles the period roughly commencing the mid 1920’s through the McCarthy era. This time it’s not fiction — but an essentially and largely below the radar (or at least not taken seriously) account of how close the US came to a reality that Lewis fictionalized. Maddow tells the tale of a half century of ‘bullet dodging’ (in a near-literal sense) in a most readable and characteristic story-telling fashion. She describes the deep divisions, politically, ideologically, that existed during those fifty odd years — with profoundly unsettling parallels to 2024. 

If not inclined to read the 400 or so pages of her book, I ran across a talk she gave recently (Chicago Humanities Festival) that bridges the factual events (with a minimum of opinion) reported in Prequel with the current state of democracy. An hour or so’s listen is sufficient to understand the ‘why now’ publication of the book. And a timely head’s up as we stare down the barrel of the ‘gun fight’ about to unfold. (Spoiler alert: vote suppression, scapegoating, endorsement of violence, disinformation — the four ‘pillars’ of a wobbly system).