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1984

A Novel. With an Afterword by Erich Fromm

Im Orwell-Staat wird eine neue Sprache verordnet, das so genannte "Neusprech". Zusammen mit dem so genannten "Zwiedenk" soll den Menschen das Denken abgewöhnt werden. Orwell beschrieb eindrucksvoll, wie durch Veränderung der Sprache der Manipulation des Volkes durch die herrschende Klasse Tür und Tor geöffnet werden kann. Besonders deutlich wird das, wenn die unmenschlichsten Züge eines Systems mit wohllautenden Namen besetzt sind. So gibt es zum Beispiel ein "Liebesministerium". Es sorgt nicht etwa für den liebevollen Umgang der Menschen untereinander, sondern "lehrt" den Abtrünnigen und Andersdenkenden mittels grausamster Foltermethoden den "Grossen Bruder" zu lieben. Im "Ministerium für Wahrheit" werden Geschichte und Gegenwart dem gegenwärtigen politischen System angepasst. Wahr ist, was der "Grosse Bruder" als wahr definiert. Dem Volk wird klargemacht, dass alles immer schon so war, wie es jetzt ist. Anderslautendes wird aus Zeitschriften und Büchern und damit aus dem Gedächtnis der Menschen systematisch entfernt. Das "Friedensministerium" hingegen plant "Friedensmissionen", die nichts anderes sind als Kriegseinsätze. Wer wollte sich da noch wundern, dass sich hinter "Lustlagern" Zwangsarbeitslager der übelsten Art verbergen.
Portrait
George Orwell (pseudonym for Eric Blair [1903-50]) was born in Bengal and educated at Eton; after service with the Indian Imperial Police in Burma, he returned to Europe to earn his living penning novels and essays. He was essentially a political writer who focused his attention on his own times, a man of intense feelings and intense hates. An opponent of totalitarianism, he served in the Loyalist forces in the Spanish Civil War. Besides his classic Animal Farm, his works include a novel based on his experiences as a colonial policeman, Burmese Days, two firsthand studies of poverty, Down and Out in Paris and London and The Road to Wigan Pier, an account of his experiences in the Spanish Civil War, Homage to Catalonia; and the extraordinary novel of political prophecy whose title became part of our language, 1984.
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  • ONE

    It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him.

    The hallway smelt of boiled cabbage and old rag mats. At one end of it a colored poster, too large for indoor display, had been tacked to the wall. It depicted simply an enormous face, more than a meter wide: the face of a man of about forty-five, with a heavy black mustache and ruggedly handsome features. Winston made for the stairs. It was no use trying the lift. Even at the best of times it was seldom working, and at present the electric current was cut off during daylight hours. It was part of the economy drive in preparation for Hate Week. The flat was seven flights up, and Winston, who was thirty-nine, and had a varicose ulcer above his right ankle, went slowly, resting several times on the way. On each landing, opposite the lift shaft, the poster with the enormous face gazed from the wall. It was one of those pictures which are so contrived that the eyes follow you about when you move. BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption beneath it ran.

    Inside the flat a fruity voice was reading out a list of figures which had something to do with the production of pig iron. The voice came from an oblong metal plaque like a dulled mirror which formed part of the surface of the right-hand wall. Winston turned a switch and the voice sank somewhat, though the words were still distinguishable. The instrument (the telescreen, it was called) could be dimmed, but there was no way of shutting it off completely. He moved over to the window: a smallish, frail figure, the meagerness of his body merely emphasized by the blue overalls which were the uni- form of the Party. His hair was very fair, his face naturally sanguine, his skin roughened by coarse soap and blunt razor blades and the cold of the winter that had just ended.

    Outside, even through the shut window pane, the world looked cold. Down in the street little eddies of wind were whirling dust and torn paper into spirals, and though the sun was shining and the sky a harsh blue, there seemed to be no color in anything except the posters that were plastered every- where. The black-mustachio'd face gazed down from every commanding corner. There was one on the house front immediately opposite. BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption said, while the dark eyes looked deep into Winston's own. Down at street level another poster, torn at one corner, flapped fitfully in the wind, alternately covering and uncovering the single word INGSOC. In the far distance a helicopter skimmed down between the roofs, hovered for an instant like a blue-bottle, and darted away again with a curving flight. It was the Police Patrol, snooping into people's windows. The patrols did not matter, however. Only the Thought Police mattered.

    Behind Winston's back the voice from the telescreen was still babbling away about pig iron and the overfulfillment of the Ninth Three-Year Plan. The telescreen received and transmitted simultaneously. Any sound that Winston made, above the level of a very low whisper, would be picked up by it; moreover, so long as he remained within the field of vision which the metal plaque commanded, he could be seen as well as heard. There was of course no way of knowing whether you were being watched at any given moment. How often, or on what system, the Thought Police plugged in on any individual wire was guesswork. It was even conceivable that they watched everybody all the time. But at any rate they could plug in your wire whenever they wanted to. You had to live- did live, from habit that became instinct-in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement scrutinized.

    Winston kept his back turned to the telescreen. It
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Beschreibung

Produktdetails

Einband Taschenbuch
Seitenzahl 328
Erscheinungsdatum 01.12.1990
Sprache Englisch
ISBN 978-0-451-52493-5
Verlag Penguin LCC US
Maße (L/B/H) 19/10.6/3.2 cm
Gewicht 183 g
Verkaufsrang 2950
Buch (Taschenbuch, Englisch)
Buch (Taschenbuch, Englisch)
Fr. 16.90
Fr. 16.90
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very intriguing story
von einer Kundin/einem Kunden aus Berlin am 21.01.2015

Eine sehr spannende Erzählung, dessen Thema sehr interessant und vor allem zeitloses ist. Die Geschichte ist sehr clever aufgebaut und mit Humor geschrieben. Man kann das Buch immer wieder lesen, sehr zu empfehlen.