Read 700 Free eBooks Made Available by the University of California Press

mark twain uc press

The Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­i­for­nia Press e‑books col­lec­tion holds books pub­lished by UCP (and a select few print­ed by oth­er aca­d­e­m­ic press­es) between 1982–2004. The gen­er­al pub­lic cur­rent­ly has access to 770 books through this ini­tia­tive. The col­lec­tion is dynam­ic, with new titles being added over time.

Read­ers look­ing to see what the col­lec­tion holds can browse by sub­ject. The cura­tors of the site have kind­ly pro­vid­ed a sec­ond brows­ing page that shows only the pub­licly acces­si­ble books, omit­ting any frus­trat­ing off-lim­its titles.

The collection’s strengths are in his­to­ry (par­tic­u­lar­ly Amer­i­can his­to­ry and the his­to­ry of Cal­i­for­nia and the West); reli­gion; lit­er­ary stud­ies; and inter­na­tion­al stud­ies (with strong selec­tions of Mid­dle East­ern Stud­ies, Asian Stud­ies, and French Stud­ies titles).

A quick browse yields a mul­ti­tude of inter­est­ing pos­si­bil­i­ties for future read­ing: Shel­ley Streeby’s 2002 book about sen­sa­tion­al lit­er­a­ture and dime nov­els in the nine­teenth-cen­tu­ry Unit­ed States; Luise White’s intrigu­ing-look­ing Speak­ing with Vam­pires: Rumor and His­to­ry in Colo­nial Africa (2000); and Karen Lystra’s 2004 re-exam­i­na­tion of Mark Twain’s final years. (The image above comes from anoth­er Twain text by Ran­dall Knop­er.) Two oth­er note­wor­thy texts include Roland Barthes’ Inci­dents and Hugh Ken­ner’s Chuck Jones: A Flur­ry of Draw­ings.

Sad­ly, you can’t down­load the books to an e‑reader or tablet. Hap­pi­ly, there is a “book­bag” func­tion that you can use to store your titles, if you need to leave the site and come back.

As always, we’d encour­age you to vis­it our col­lec­tion of 800 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices, where we recent­ly added texts by Vladimir Nabokov, Philip K. Dick and oth­ers. Also find free cours­es in our list of 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Rebec­ca Onion is a writer and aca­d­e­m­ic liv­ing in Philadel­phia. She runs Slate.com’s his­to­ry blog, The Vault. Fol­low her on Twit­ter:@rebeccaonion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free: The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art and the Guggen­heim Offer 474 Free Art Books Online

Read 18 Short Sto­ries From Nobel Prize-Win­ning Writer Alice Munro Free Online

30 Free Essays & Sto­ries by David Fos­ter Wal­lace on the Web

Down­load 14 Great Sci-Fi Sto­ries by Philip K. Dick as Free Audio Books and Free eBooks

Down­load 20 Pop­u­lar High School Books Avail­able as Free eBooks & Audio Books

Watch a Super Cut of Wes Anderson’s Signature Slo-Mo Shots

When you watch a director’s work for a while, you get to know his/her sig­na­ture tricks — the themes and cam­era work that appear again and again. A cou­ple years ago, we fea­tured a video called Wes Ander­son // FROM ABOVEa mon­tage cap­tur­ing Anderson’s pen­chant for the aer­i­al shot, a move that con­tributes to the light­ness, play­ful­ness and quirk­i­ness of his films. Now comes a super cut of Ander­son­’s slo-mo shots, com­piled by Ale­jan­dro Prul­lan­sky, set to The Shins’ song, “New Slang.” If you’re look­ing for a good overview of Wes Ander­son­’s fil­mog­ra­phy, we’d encour­age you to watch this series: 7 Video Essays on Wes Anderson’s Films: Rush­more, The Roy­al Tenen­baums & More.

Don’t miss any­thing from Open Cul­ture. Sign up for our Dai­ly Email or RSS Feed. And we’ll send cul­tur­al curiosi­ties your way, every day.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Wes Anderson’s First Short Film: The Black-and-White, Jazz-Scored Bot­tle Rock­et (1992)

Watch Wes Anderson’s Charm­ing New Short Film, Castel­lo Cav­al­can­ti, Star­ring Jason Schwartz­man

Has Wes Ander­son Sold Out? Can He Sell Out? Crit­ics Take Up the Debate

The Curious Story of London’s First Coffeehouses (1650–1675)

coffee englandIn his 1621 opusThe Anato­my of Melan­choly, Robert Bur­ton wrote, “The Turks have a drink called cof­fa (for they use no wine), so named of a berry as black as soot, and as bit­ter … which they sip still of, and sup as warm as they can suf­fer; they spend much time in those cof­fa-hous­es, which are some­what like our ale­hous­es or tav­erns…”

Sev­er­al decades lat­er, read­ers would require no such expla­na­tions: Eng­land would be awash in cof­fee­hous­es, num­ber­ing in the thou­sands. The curi­ous sto­ry of how the British swapped much of their dai­ly ale con­sump­tion for this “syrop of soot, or essence of old shoes,” is told by Matthew Green in “The Lost World of The Lon­don Cof­fee House,” on the Pub­lic Domain Review.

Pri­or to 1652, when Pasqua Rosée estab­lished a small cof­fee­house in St. Michael’s Alley in Lon­don, cof­fee was vir­tu­al­ly unknown in Eng­land. Rosée, a ser­vant of a cof­fee-lov­ing trad­er to the Lev­ant, found tremen­dous suc­cess with his ven­ture and, accord­ing to Green, was soon sell­ing over 600 serv­ings a day. Above, read­ers can view Rosée’s orig­i­nal hand­bill, where the entre­pre­neur adver­tised both the ther­a­peu­tic and pro­phy­lac­tic effects of his wares on diges­tion, headaches, rheuma­tism, con­sump­tion, cough, drop­sy, gout, scurvy, and mis­car­riages. It’s a won­der any­one ever drink­ing the stuff got sick.

Cof­fee­hous­es quick­ly became pop­u­lar places for men to con­verse and con­gre­gate, and Green notes that women soon grew tired of their absence. This exas­per­a­tion mount­ed until the 1674 Women’s Peti­tion Against Cof­fee, which claimed that “Exces­sive use of that New­fan­gled, Abom­inable, Hea­then­ish Liquor called COFFEE” led to England’s falling birthrate, mak­ing men “as unfruit­ful as the sandy deserts, from where that unhap­py berry is said to be brought.” Men, as they are wont to do, expressed their dis­agree­ment, and stat­ed in Men’s Answer to the Women’s Peti­tion Against Cof­fee that cof­fee made “the erec­tion more vig­or­ous, the ejac­u­la­tion more full, add[ing] a spir­i­tu­al ascen­den­cy to the sperm.”

A year lat­er, cof­fee­hous­es found more for­mi­da­ble oppo­si­tion in the form of King Charles II, who issued the “Procla­ma­tion for the sup­pres­sion of Cof­fee Hous­es” in 1675. Charles, how­ev­er, was more inter­est­ed in their polit­i­cal effects than the spir­i­tu­al ascen­den­cy of his sub­jects’ sperm. Cof­fee­hous­es pro­vid­ed an oppor­tu­ni­ty for more mind­ful and seri­ous con­ver­sa­tions than did ale­hous­es, and allowed any­one who paid the sin­gle pen­ny entrance charge to par­tic­i­pate in dis­cus­sions — to Charles, these were the ide­al cir­cum­stances for plot­ting sedi­tion and trea­son among the pop­u­lace. Despite the King’s procla­ma­tion, the cof­fee­hous­es, buoyed by a sup­port­ive pub­lic, pre­vailed.

To read Green’s fas­ci­nat­ing essay in full, includ­ing a descrip­tion of the cof­fee­house fre­quent­ed by Alexan­der Pope, Jonathan Swift, Joseph Addi­son, and Richard Steele, head over to the Pub­lic Domain Review.

Ilia Blin­d­er­man is a Mon­tre­al-based cul­ture and sci­ence writer. Fol­low him at @iliablinderman.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hon­oré de Balzac Writes About “The Plea­sures and Pains of Cof­fee,” and His Epic Cof­fee Addic­tion

Men In Com­mer­cials Being Jerks About Cof­fee: A Mashup of 1950s & 1960s TV Ads

 

The His­to­ry of Cof­fee and How It Trans­formed Our World

Black Cof­fee: Doc­u­men­tary Cov­ers the His­to­ry, Pol­i­tics & Eco­nom­ics of the “Most Wide­ly Tak­en Legal Drug”

 

Highlights from the First Ever Stanford Code Poetry Slam

I was lucky enough to be liv­ing in Chica­go when Marc Smith’s Poet­ry Slam move­ment became a thing. What fun it was to hit the Green Mill on Sun­day nights to hear such inno­va­tors as Lisa Bus­cani or Patri­cia Smith tear­ing into their lat­est entries in front of packed-to-capac­i­ty crowds. Those ear­ly slam poets inspired a lot of oth­er word­smiths to brave the mic, a glo­ri­ous rev­o­lu­tion whose gleam was inevitably tar­nished for me once it caught on for real.

I remem­ber think­ing some­thing like, “If I nev­er hear anoth­er poem about some­one’s rela­tion­ship trou­bles, it’ll be too soon.”

To fur­ther illus­trate my wan­ing enthu­si­asm, here’s the above thought, ren­dered in Stan­dard Spo­ken Word Venac­u­lar:

If

I nev­er heeeear  

Anoth­er Po

Em About Some­one’s 

Re-la-tion-ship…

Trou­bles, it’ll be

Too

Soon.

Some two-and-a-half decades fur­ther along, Leslie Wu, a doc­tor­al stu­dent in Com­put­er Sci­ence at Stan­ford Uni­ver­si­ty, has been crowned the win­ner of the inau­gur­al Code Poet­ry Slam, and I’m mourn­ing the loss of those long-ago rela­tion­ship trou­bles.

To cre­ate her win­ning entry, “Say 23,” Wu donned a Google Glass head­set, as she recit­ed and typed 16 lines of com­put­er code, which were pro­ject­ed onto a screen. When Wu ran the script, three dif­fer­ent com­put­er­ized voic­es took over per­for­mance duties, sam­pling the 23rd Psalm along with an uncred­it­ed snip­pet of In the Hall of the Moun­tain King.

I may be too hot-blood­ed to appre­ci­ate the artistry here.

Melis­sa Kagen, who orga­nized the com­pe­ti­tion with fel­low grad­u­ate stu­dent Kurt James Wern­er, stat­ed on the uni­ver­si­ty’s web­site that in order “to real­ly get into the intri­ca­cies you real­ly need to know that lan­guage.”

I guess that goes dou­ble for the com­peti­tors. Accord­ing to Wern­er, Wu’s poem wove togeth­er a num­ber of dif­fer­ent con­cepts, tools, and lan­guages, includ­ing Japan­ese, Eng­lish, and Ruby. Philis­tine that I am, I had always thought of the lat­ter as an uncap­i­tal­ized gem­stone and noth­ing more.

Not that I’m align­ing myself with those cur­mud­geons whose typ­i­cal reac­tion to a Rothko or a Jack­son Pol­lack is, “My two-year-old could do bet­ter.” For one thing, I’ve got teenagers, and giv­en their druthers, they’d eat their way through the con­tents of Wern­er Her­zog’s shoe clos­et before agree­ing to learn so much as a sin­gle line of code.

What a won­der­ful world in which so many of us are free to pur­sue our indi­vid­ual pas­sions to the point of poet­ry!

If you’re the type to whom code poet­ry speaks—nay, sings—you should con­sid­er putting some­thing togeth­er for the fast approach­ing sec­ond slam. Have a look at the work of the eight final­ists, if you’re in need of inspi­ra­tion. Entries are being accept­ed through Feb. 12.

Find 74 free cours­es from Stan­ford in our col­lec­tion: 825 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Learn to Code with Harvard’s Intro to Com­put­er Sci­ence Course And Oth­er Free Tech Class­es

Codecademy’s Free Cours­es Democ­ra­tize Com­put­er Pro­gram­ming

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky, an award-win­ning, hand­writ­ten zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Behold Pablo Picasso’s Illustrations of Balzac’s Short Story “The Hidden Masterpiece” (1931)

BalzacFrontis

Pablo Picas­so had a long and com­plex rela­tion­ship with book illus­tra­tion. The mod­ern painter hat­ed to work on spec and resist­ed tak­ing com­mis­sions. Nonethe­less, when it came to lit­er­a­ture, he made well over 50 excep­tions, illus­trat­ing the work of scores of authors he admired. As John Gold­ing writes in The Inde­pen­dent, Picas­so had always grav­i­tat­ed toward the lit­er­ary; he wrote pro­lif­i­cal­ly, was “attract­ed to art that had a lit­er­ary fla­vor,” and “pre­ferred the com­pa­ny of writ­ers, par­tic­u­lar­ly poets, to that of oth­er painters and sculp­tors.” Gold­ing writes of the artist’s par­tic­u­lar love for the Span­ish Baroque poet Luis de Gongo­ra, whose work he illus­trat­ed in a 1948 edi­tion, and who was to “affect the future devel­op­ment of Picasso’s art in a way that his oth­er lit­er­ary col­lab­o­ra­tions did not.” But this may be a hasty judg­ment. As it turned out, Picasso’s 1931 illus­tra­tion of a short sto­ry by Hon­oré de Balzac, “The Hid­den Mas­ter­piece” (Le Chef‑d’oeuvre incon­nu), would affect him great­ly, and indi­rect­ly con­tributed to the cre­ation of his most famous work, the enor­mous anti-war can­vas Guer­ni­ca.

PicassoBalzac

Picas­so accept­ed the Balzac com­mis­sion from art deal­er Ambroise Vol­lard (see the title page and fron­tispiece at top, Picasso’s por­traits of Balzac above) and com­plet­ed the thir­teen etch­ings in 1931 for a cen­ten­ni­al edi­tion (see ten of the illus­tra­tions here). Many have con­sid­ered these etch­ings “land­marks in the his­to­ry of engrav­ing.” Balza­c’s sto­ry, admired by oth­er painters like Cézanne and Matisse, is among oth­er things a tale of an artist ahead of his time. Set in the 17th cen­tu­ry, “The Hid­den Mas­ter­piece” tells of an aging painter named Fren­hofer, who obses­sive­ly labors over a work he has kept secret for years. When two younger admir­ers, painters Poussin and Por­bus, final­ly man­age to see Fren­hofer­’s secret can­vas, they are appalled—it appears to them noth­ing more than an indis­tinct mess of lines, col­ors and shapes—and they mock the old­er artist and assume their cel­e­brat­ed friend has gone insane. The next day, Fren­hofer destroys all his work and kills him­self.

BalzacPicasso1

Picas­so, writes Thomas Ganzevoort, “had faced some­thing of the same dumb­found­ed reac­tion from fel­low artists upon show­ing them his ground­break­ing pro­to-Cubist mas­ter­piece Les Demoi­selles d’Avignon.” He lat­er claimed that the ghost of Balzac haunt­ed him, and he found him­self so com­pelled by the sto­ry that in 1937, he chose for his new stu­dio a 17th cen­tu­ry town­house locat­ed at 7 Rue des Grands-Augustin, the very house many believed to be the set­ting of the open­ing scene in “The Hid­den Mas­ter­piece.” In April of that year, Ger­man war­planes bombed the Span­ish Basque city of Guer­ni­ca, and Picas­so aban­doned all oth­er projects and set to work on his famous large can­vas, which he com­plet­ed in June of that same year (below, see him in his Grands-Augustin stu­dio, at work on Guer­ni­ca). Like his ear­li­er, cubist work, Guer­ni­ca divid­ed crit­ics and per­plexed some of his peers. At its unveil­ing in the 1937 Paris Exhi­bi­tion, the paint­ing “gar­nered lit­tle atten­tion.” Unlike the trag­ic Fren­hofer of Balzac’s sto­ry, how­ev­er, Picas­so did not suc­cumb to self-doubt and lived to see his work vin­di­cat­ed. See this site to learn more about Balzac and Picas­so, includ­ing dis­cus­sion of a dis­put­ed 1934 draw­ing some believe to be Picasso’s own “hid­den mas­ter­piece.”

PicassoworkingonGuernica

Relat­ed Con­tent:

See Pablo Picasso’s Spare, Ten­der Illus­tra­tions For a Lim­it­ed Edi­tion of Aristo­phanes’ Lysis­tra­ta (1934)

Watch Picas­so Cre­ate Entire Paint­ings in Mag­nif­i­cent Time-Lapse Film (1956)

A 3D Tour of Picasso’s Guer­ni­ca

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Against All Odds: A Gentle Introduction to Statistics Hosted by Harvard Geneticist Pardis Sabeti (Free Online Course)

Worth a quick men­tion: Dr. Par­dis Sabeti, a media-savvy com­pu­ta­tion­al geneti­cist at Har­vard, has teamed up with the Annen­berg Foun­da­tion, to cre­ate a new intro­duc­tion to sta­tis­tics. In 32 nice­ly-pro­duced videosAgainst All Odds: Inside Sta­tis­tics guides “view­ers through the wide range of sta­tis­ti­cal appli­ca­tions used by sci­en­tists, busi­ness own­ers, and even Shake­speare schol­ars, in their work and dai­ly lives.” It’s all about “real peo­ple work­ing on real prob­lems.”

The series starts with What Is Sta­tis­tics?. And then, along the way, the course cov­ers top­ics like Stan­dard Devi­a­tion, Cor­re­la­tion, Sam­ples and Sur­veys, and more. The clip above comes from the unit called Check­ing Assump­tion of Nor­mal­i­ty. And do note that each video mod­ule is com­ple­ment­ed by a Stu­dent Guide and Fac­ul­ty Guide spe­cif­ic to the unit.

Against All Odds: Inside Sta­tis­tics has been added to our col­lec­tion of Free Math Cours­es, a sub­set of our larg­er col­lec­tion, 1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sta­tis­tics Explained Through Mod­ern Dance: A New Way of Teach­ing a Tough Sub­ject

Cal­cu­lus Life­saver: A Free Online Course from Prince­ton

The Math of Rock Climb­ing

Math: Free Cours­es Online

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Stanford Prof Makes Ukuleles from Wood Floor of New Concert Hall

Last year, Stan­ford opened a glo­ri­ous new con­cert hall. Some­where dur­ing its con­struc­tion, Steven Sano, a pro­fes­sor in the Music Depart­ment, found some extra scraps of Alaskan yel­low cedar, the wood used to build the stage floor. He took the wood known “for its res­o­nance and fine grain” to a luthi­er and came home with two blond-top tenor ukes. They’re on dis­play above. Stan­ford News has more on the sto­ry.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Jake Shimabukuro plays “Bohemi­an Rhap­sody” on the Uke

Musi­cians Re-Imag­ine the Com­plete Song­book of the Bea­t­les on the Ukulele

Amaz­ing Fact: Spaghet­ti and Ukulele Strings Actu­al­ly Grow on Trees

George Orwell Explains in a Revealing 1944 Letter Why He’d Write 1984

via Wikimedia Commons

Image via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Most of the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry’s notable men of let­ters — i.e., writ­ers of books, of essays, of reportage — seem also to have, lit­er­al­ly, writ­ten a great deal of let­ters. Some­times their cor­re­spon­dence reflects and shapes their “real” writ­ten work; some­times it appears col­lect­ed in book form itself. Both hold true in the case of George Orwell, a vol­ume of whose let­ters, edit­ed by Peter Davi­son, came out last year. In it we find this mis­sive, also pub­lished in full at The Dai­ly Beast, sent in 1944 to one Noel Will­mett, who had asked “whether total­i­tar­i­an­ism, leader-wor­ship etc. are real­ly on the up-grade” giv­en “that they are not appar­ent­ly grow­ing in [Eng­land] and the USA”:

I must say I believe, or fear, that tak­ing the world as a whole these things are on the increase. Hitler, no doubt, will soon dis­ap­pear, but only at the expense of strength­en­ing (a) Stal­in, (b) the Anglo-Amer­i­can mil­lion­aires and © all sorts of pet­ty fuhrers of the type of de Gaulle. All the nation­al move­ments every­where, even those that orig­i­nate in resis­tance to Ger­man dom­i­na­tion, seem to take non-demo­c­ra­t­ic forms, to group them­selves round some super­hu­man fuhrer (Hitler, Stal­in, Salazar, Fran­co, Gand­hi, De Valera are all vary­ing exam­ples) and to adopt the the­o­ry that the end jus­ti­fies the means. Every­where the world move­ment seems to be in the direc­tion of cen­tralised economies which can be made to ‘work’ in an eco­nom­ic sense but which are not demo­c­ra­t­i­cal­ly organ­ised and which tend to estab­lish a caste sys­tem. With this go the hor­rors of emo­tion­al nation­al­ism and a ten­den­cy to dis­be­lieve in the exis­tence of objec­tive truth because all the facts have to fit in with the words and prophe­cies of some infal­li­ble fuhrer. Already his­to­ry has in a sense ceased to exist, ie. there is no such thing as a his­to­ry of our own times which could be uni­ver­sal­ly accept­ed, and the exact sci­ences are endan­gered as soon as mil­i­tary neces­si­ty ceas­es to keep peo­ple up to the mark. Hitler can say that the Jews start­ed the war, and if he sur­vives that will become offi­cial his­to­ry. He can’t say that two and two are five, because for the pur­pos­es of, say, bal­lis­tics they have to make four. But if the sort of world that I am afraid of arrives, a world of two or three great super­states which are unable to con­quer one anoth­er, two and two could become five if the fuhrer wished it. That, so far as I can see, is the direc­tion in which we are actu­al­ly mov­ing, though, of course, the process is reversible.

As to the com­par­a­tive immu­ni­ty of Britain and the USA. What­ev­er the paci­fists etc. may say, we have not gone total­i­tar­i­an yet and this is a very hope­ful symp­tom. I believe very deeply, as I explained in my book The Lion and the Uni­corn, in the Eng­lish peo­ple and in their capac­i­ty to cen­tralise their econ­o­my with­out destroy­ing free­dom in doing so. But one must remem­ber that Britain and the USA haven’t been real­ly tried, they haven’t known defeat or severe suf­fer­ing, and there are some bad symp­toms to bal­ance the good ones. To begin with there is the gen­er­al indif­fer­ence to the decay of democ­ra­cy. Do you realise, for instance, that no one in Eng­land under 26 now has a vote and that so far as one can see the great mass of peo­ple of that age don’t give a damn for this? Sec­ond­ly there is the fact that the intel­lec­tu­als are more total­i­tar­i­an in out­look than the com­mon peo­ple. On the whole the Eng­lish intel­li­gentsia have opposed Hitler, but only at the price of accept­ing Stal­in. Most of them are per­fect­ly ready for dic­ta­to­r­i­al meth­ods, secret police, sys­tem­at­ic fal­si­fi­ca­tion of his­to­ry etc. so long as they feel that it is on ‘our’ side. Indeed the state­ment that we haven’t a Fas­cist move­ment in Eng­land large­ly means that the young, at this moment, look for their fuhrer else­where. One can’t be sure that that won’t change, nor can one be sure that the com­mon peo­ple won’t think ten years hence as the intel­lec­tu­als do now. I hope they won’t, I even trust they won’t, but if so it will be at the cost of a strug­gle. If one sim­ply pro­claims that all is for the best and doesn’t point to the sin­is­ter symp­toms, one is mere­ly help­ing to bring total­i­tar­i­an­ism near­er.

You also ask, if I think the world ten­den­cy is towards Fas­cism, why do I sup­port the war. It is a choice of evils—I fan­cy near­ly every war is that. I know enough of British impe­ri­al­ism not to like it, but I would sup­port it against Nazism or Japan­ese impe­ri­al­ism, as the less­er evil. Sim­i­lar­ly I would sup­port the USSR against Ger­many because I think the USSR can­not alto­geth­er escape its past and retains enough of the orig­i­nal ideas of the Rev­o­lu­tion to make it a more hope­ful phe­nom­e­non than Nazi Ger­many. I think, and have thought ever since the war began, in 1936 or there­abouts, that our cause is the bet­ter, but we have to keep on mak­ing it the bet­ter, which involves con­stant crit­i­cism.

Yours sin­cere­ly,
Geo. Orwell

Three years lat­er, Orwell would write 1984. Two years after that, it would see pub­li­ca­tion and go on to gen­er­a­tions of atten­tion as per­haps the most elo­quent fic­tion­al state­ment against a world reduced to super­states, sat­u­rat­ed with “emo­tion­al nation­al­ism,” acqui­es­cent to “dic­ta­to­r­i­al meth­ods, secret police,” and the sys­tem­at­ic fal­si­fi­ca­tion of his­to­ry,” and shot through by the will­ing­ness to “dis­be­lieve in the exis­tence of objec­tive truth because all the facts have to fit in with the words and prophe­cies of some infal­li­ble fuhrer.” Now that you feel like read­ing the nov­el again, or even for the first time, do browse our col­lec­tion of 1984-relat­ed resources, which includes the eBook, the audio book, reviews, and even radio dra­ma and com­ic book adap­ta­tions of Orwell’s work.

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion to George Orwell

The Only Known Footage of George Orwell (Cir­ca 1921)

George Orwell and Dou­glas Adams Explain How to Make a Prop­er Cup of Tea

George Orwell’s Polit­i­cal Views, Explained in His Own Words

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, Asia, film, lit­er­a­ture, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on his brand new Face­book page.

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