Like John Flory from Burmese Days, Gordon Comstock is another Orwellian male protagonist who goes against the grain of contemporary society. While Flory challenges the British colonial mindset, Gordon rebels against money, conventional success, and the aspidistra—that homely houseplant symbolic of middle-class decency.
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Refusing to be a slave to the "money-god and its swinish priesthood," Gordon abandons a promising career as an advertising copywriter to work a dead-end job at a grubby London bookshop for low pay. A minor literary talent, with one barely noticed book of poems to his name, Gordon also passes his evenings shivering in a rented room, struggling to write. In his effort to reject the religion of money-worship, Gordon becomes fixated on money in his own way. In fact, Orwell almost satirizes Gordon's obsession with his own financial situation. Money appears to enter into every thought, consideration, or conversation he has with his "parlor socialist" friend Ravelston and his faithful love Rosemary. And his poverty is hard to ignore given it impacts every facet of his existence—his creativity, social life, sexual intimacy, and self-esteem.
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Living as an anchorite outside of the money-world proves to be a sort of spiritual death for Gordon. While Aspidistra intelligently examines the pressuring sway of money on human lives, the novel's central theme is poverty—something Orwell experienced first-hand and wrote about in his earlier essays. Gordon may be a whiny, self-pitying, and aggravating character, but Orwell understands his genuine feelings of isolation, frustration, and paralysis and excels in creating a vivid portrait of his life on two quid a week. Gordon's act of rebellion ultimately teaches him that rejecting the money-code is no way to escape from the money-world. Money doesn't make one happy, but not having money doesn't make one happy either.
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Orwell disliked Aspidistra, preventing it from being reprinted during his lifetime, but I enjoyed this grimly amusing and cerebral read. While many find Gordon unlikable (and rightly so), his character didn't prevent me from becoming invested in his journey. I compare him to Toole’s anti-hero, Ignatius J. Reilly, whose rebellious antics are both absurd and thought-provoking.
Like John Flory from Burmese Days, Gordon Comstock is another Orwellian male protagonist who goes against the grain of contemporary society. While Flory challenges the British colonial mindset, Gordon rebels against money, conventional success, and the aspidistra—that homely houseplant symbolic of middle-class decency.
‍
Refusing to be a slave to the "money-god and its swinish priesthood," Gordon abandons a promising career as an advertising copywriter to work a dead-end job at a grubby London bookshop for low pay. A minor literary talent, with one barely noticed book of poems to his name, Gordon also passes his evenings shivering in a rented room, struggling to write. In his effort to reject the religion of money-worship, Gordon becomes fixated on money in his own way. In fact, Orwell almost satirizes Gordon's obsession with his own financial situation. Money appears to enter into every thought, consideration, or conversation he has with his "parlor socialist" friend Ravelston and his faithful love Rosemary. And his poverty is hard to ignore given it impacts every facet of his existence—his creativity, social life, sexual intimacy, and self-esteem.
‍
Living as an anchorite outside of the money-world proves to be a sort of spiritual death for Gordon. While Aspidistra intelligently examines the pressuring sway of money on human lives, the novel's central theme is poverty—something Orwell experienced first-hand and wrote about in his earlier essays. Gordon may be a whiny, self-pitying, and aggravating character, but Orwell understands his genuine feelings of isolation, frustration, and paralysis and excels in creating a vivid portrait of his life on two quid a week. Gordon's act of rebellion ultimately teaches him that rejecting the money-code is no way to escape from the money-world. Money doesn't make one happy, but not having money doesn't make one happy either.
‍
Orwell disliked Aspidistra, preventing it from being reprinted during his lifetime, but I enjoyed this grimly amusing and cerebral read. While many find Gordon unlikable (and rightly so), his character didn't prevent me from becoming invested in his journey. I compare him to Toole’s anti-hero, Ignatius J. Reilly, whose rebellious antics are both absurd and thought-provoking.
Like John Flory from Burmese Days, Gordon Comstock is another Orwellian male protagonist who goes against the grain of contemporary society. While Flory challenges the British colonial mindset, Gordon rebels against money, conventional success, and the aspidistra—that homely houseplant symbolic of middle-class decency.
‍
Refusing to be a slave to the "money-god and its swinish priesthood," Gordon abandons a promising career as an advertising copywriter to work a dead-end job at a grubby London bookshop for low pay. A minor literary talent, with one barely noticed book of poems to his name, Gordon also passes his evenings shivering in a rented room, struggling to write. In his effort to reject the religion of money-worship, Gordon becomes fixated on money in his own way. In fact, Orwell almost satirizes Gordon's obsession with his own financial situation. Money appears to enter into every thought, consideration, or conversation he has with his "parlor socialist" friend Ravelston and his faithful love Rosemary. And his poverty is hard to ignore given it impacts every facet of his existence—his creativity, social life, sexual intimacy, and self-esteem.
‍
Living as an anchorite outside of the money-world proves to be a sort of spiritual death for Gordon. While Aspidistra intelligently examines the pressuring sway of money on human lives, the novel's central theme is poverty—something Orwell experienced first-hand and wrote about in his earlier essays. Gordon may be a whiny, self-pitying, and aggravating character, but Orwell understands his genuine feelings of isolation, frustration, and paralysis and excels in creating a vivid portrait of his life on two quid a week. Gordon's act of rebellion ultimately teaches him that rejecting the money-code is no way to escape from the money-world. Money doesn't make one happy, but not having money doesn't make one happy either.
‍
Orwell disliked Aspidistra, preventing it from being reprinted during his lifetime, but I enjoyed this grimly amusing and cerebral read. While many find Gordon unlikable (and rightly so), his character didn't prevent me from becoming invested in his journey. I compare him to Toole’s anti-hero, Ignatius J. Reilly, whose rebellious antics are both absurd and thought-provoking.
Like John Flory from Burmese Days, Gordon Comstock is another Orwellian male protagonist who goes against the grain of contemporary society. While Flory challenges the British colonial mindset, Gordon rebels against money, conventional success, and the aspidistra—that homely houseplant symbolic of middle-class decency.
‍
Refusing to be a slave to the "money-god and its swinish priesthood," Gordon abandons a promising career as an advertising copywriter to work a dead-end job at a grubby London bookshop for low pay. A minor literary talent, with one barely noticed book of poems to his name, Gordon also passes his evenings shivering in a rented room, struggling to write. In his effort to reject the religion of money-worship, Gordon becomes fixated on money in his own way. In fact, Orwell almost satirizes Gordon's obsession with his own financial situation. Money appears to enter into every thought, consideration, or conversation he has with his "parlor socialist" friend Ravelston and his faithful love Rosemary. And his poverty is hard to ignore given it impacts every facet of his existence—his creativity, social life, sexual intimacy, and self-esteem.
‍
Living as an anchorite outside of the money-world proves to be a sort of spiritual death for Gordon. While Aspidistra intelligently examines the pressuring sway of money on human lives, the novel's central theme is poverty—something Orwell experienced first-hand and wrote about in his earlier essays. Gordon may be a whiny, self-pitying, and aggravating character, but Orwell understands his genuine feelings of isolation, frustration, and paralysis and excels in creating a vivid portrait of his life on two quid a week. Gordon's act of rebellion ultimately teaches him that rejecting the money-code is no way to escape from the money-world. Money doesn't make one happy, but not having money doesn't make one happy either.
‍
Orwell disliked Aspidistra, preventing it from being reprinted during his lifetime, but I enjoyed this grimly amusing and cerebral read. While many find Gordon unlikable (and rightly so), his character didn't prevent me from becoming invested in his journey. I compare him to Toole’s anti-hero, Ignatius J. Reilly, whose rebellious antics are both absurd and thought-provoking.
Like John Flory from Burmese Days, Gordon Comstock is another Orwellian male protagonist who goes against the grain of contemporary society. While Flory challenges the British colonial mindset, Gordon rebels against money, conventional success, and the aspidistra—that homely houseplant symbolic of middle-class decency.
‍
Refusing to be a slave to the "money-god and its swinish priesthood," Gordon abandons a promising career as an advertising copywriter to work a dead-end job at a grubby London bookshop for low pay. A minor literary talent, with one barely noticed book of poems to his name, Gordon also passes his evenings shivering in a rented room, struggling to write. In his effort to reject the religion of money-worship, Gordon becomes fixated on money in his own way. In fact, Orwell almost satirizes Gordon's obsession with his own financial situation. Money appears to enter into every thought, consideration, or conversation he has with his "parlor socialist" friend Ravelston and his faithful love Rosemary. And his poverty is hard to ignore given it impacts every facet of his existence—his creativity, social life, sexual intimacy, and self-esteem.
‍
Living as an anchorite outside of the money-world proves to be a sort of spiritual death for Gordon. While Aspidistra intelligently examines the pressuring sway of money on human lives, the novel's central theme is poverty—something Orwell experienced first-hand and wrote about in his earlier essays. Gordon may be a whiny, self-pitying, and aggravating character, but Orwell understands his genuine feelings of isolation, frustration, and paralysis and excels in creating a vivid portrait of his life on two quid a week. Gordon's act of rebellion ultimately teaches him that rejecting the money-code is no way to escape from the money-world. Money doesn't make one happy, but not having money doesn't make one happy either.
‍
Orwell disliked Aspidistra, preventing it from being reprinted during his lifetime, but I enjoyed this grimly amusing and cerebral read. While many find Gordon unlikable (and rightly so), his character didn't prevent me from becoming invested in his journey. I compare him to Toole’s anti-hero, Ignatius J. Reilly, whose rebellious antics are both absurd and thought-provoking.