A Clockwork Orange

Thursday, 30 May 2002


it took awhile to get used to the malenky slovos in A Clockwork Orange but once i got it through my gul­liv­er to un­der­stand what it meant to go out with your droo­gies and use your rook­er in or­der to tol­chock some grahzny veck and smeck about while the red red krovvy flows due to a few knocks on the lit­so (i’m de­scrib­ing ul­tra-vi­o­lence), go­ing and find­ing some de­votch­ka with re­al hor­row­show grood­ies and razrezz her plat­ties and get a lit­tle bit of the old in-out in-out, and grab some pret­ty pol­ly (or cut­ter, o my broth­ers) to put in the car­mans of my plat­ties, it filled my mozg with vi­sions of Bog and All the Heavenly Saints with fas­ci­na­tion. i vid­died very hor­ror­show the type of vesch that Burgess was go­ing for.

A Clockwork Orange func­tions on mul­ti­ple lev­els of mean­ing and seemed to me to fluc­tu­ate back and forth over nor­mal pro­sa­ic forms and rad­i­cal ex­per­i­men­tal struc­tures. there are echoes of Orwell’s 1984 and a bit of the com­ing of age of A Separate Peace. but on the whole it seems that Burgess cre­ates a provoca­tive look at the ef­fects of a fu­ture in which a so­ci­ety has the pow­er to ‘med­ical­ly’ force con­for­mi­ty on a per­son. this re­sults in a to­tal in­abil­i­ty of the brain­washed in­di­vid­ual to func­tion. (i be­lieve the un­der­ly­ing po­si­tion of this is that life = vi­o­lence and strug­gle = nat­ur­al com­pe­ti­tion). so when some­one is phys­i­cal­ly un­able to com­pete, they are de­stroyed. read it my malenky lit­tle droogs and ptit­sas.