By Bob Tedder • In the preface to the 1986 edition of “A Clockwork Orange” author Anthony Burgess describes his book as one he would be “be glad to disown for various reasons” – a desire that he sadly observed is not permitted. Not permitted, in large part, due to Stanley Kubrick’s 1971 cinematic adaptation which remains ranked in the American Film Institute’s Top 100 films of all time. The book does not share similar rankings and for good reason. For all but the most patient of readers Burgess’ neologisms, though critical to the book’s concept, far too often escape contextual definition. The film, on the other hand, trades on the old axiom “actions speak louder than words,” thereby allowing the audience to gain a sense of what is being spoken. So – unusual for a book review – I recommend you skip the book and head straight to the visual and aural feast fashioned from Burgess’ book by Kubrick. Then return to the book.
The book first published in 1961 was considered futuristic and dystopian. Whether it is also prescient is left to the reader’s imagination. If one is presupposed to believe that some time in the future decaying inner cities will be overrun by gangs of violent juvenile delinquents cutting school, doing drugs and routinely committing acts of senseless violence, then Burgess is a literary Nostradamus. For this is the world Burgess created – a seamy, litter-strewn London where 15-year-old Alex and his “droogs” nightly head down to the Koorva milk bar. Then, after their dose of “milk plus,” they head out for an evening filled with random acts of opportunistic violence.
Eventually jailed for a particularly violent rape and murder, Alex “volunteers” to be the first cured and released under a new government treatment of revulsion therapy. This allows the reading audience to contrast the shaded nuances between psychological and physical violence. Ending with irony and inconclusiveness, “A Clockwork Orange” remains one of those just-out-of-the-mainstream novels whose occasional resurfacing is indicative of a healthy literary culture. As for the aural feast, listen to Alex: “It had been a wonderful evening and what I needed now, to give it the perfect ending, was a little of the Ludwig Van.”