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Orwell draws on his years of experience in India to tell this story of the waning days of British imperialism. A handful of Englishmen living in a settlement in Burma congregate in the European Club, drink whiskey, and argue over an impending order to admit a token Asian.
E' passato quasi un secolo (1934) da quanto Eric Arthur Blair ha scritto questo libro. Impressiona osservare l'attualità dei temi temi politici (razzismo, ingiustizia sociale, ipocrisia borghese) che si intrecciano a quelli sentimentali. In una Birmania colonizzata dagli inglesi all'inizio del XX secolo, il protagonista Flory si contraddistingue per il rispetto verso le popolazioni indigene non corrisposta dagli altri membri del circolo dei coloni: questo atteggiamento benevolo è pagato a caro prezzo ed arriva a costargli l'appellativo di bolscevico. Flory, l'opposto dell'eroe perfetto che si sente brutto e diverso a causa dell'angioma esteso che porta sul volto, cadrà vittima di se stesso e delle sue frustrazioni a causa di un amore non corrisposto. Un libro dei vinti, senza vincitori. ( )
Overall, Burmese Days is a thoroughly impressive piece of work which is a suspenseful, tragic and at times beautiful depiction of upper Burma. It marks a great contribution towards an artistic reflection of the issue of race (and more subtly in the text, gender) as well as providing insight into the corruption and immorality behind Anglo- Indian imperialism. An undeniable masterpiece.
Dati dalle informazioni generali inglesi.Modifica per tradurlo nella tua lingua.
This desert inaccessible under the shade of melancholy boughs. ~As You Like It
Dedica
Incipit
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U Po Kyin, Subdivisional Magistrate of Kyauktada, in Upper Burma, was sitting in his veranda.
Citazioni
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For somehow, he had never been able to talk to her as he longed to talk. To talk, simply to talk! It sounds so little, and how much it is! When you have existed to the brink of middle age in bitter loneliness, among people to whom your true opinion on every subject on earth is blasphemy, the need to talk is the greatest of all needs. Yet with Elizabeth serious talk seemed impossible. It was as though there had been a spell upon them that made all their conversation lapse into banality: gramophone records, dogs, tennis racquets—all that desolating Club-chatter. She seemed not to want to talk of anything but that. He had only to touch upon a subject of any conceivable interest to hear the evasion, the 'I shan't play', coming into her voice. … Later, no doubt, she would understand him and give him the companionship he needed. Perhaps it was only that he had not won her confidence yet.
For a moment it seemed to him that an endless procession of Burmese women, a regiment of ghosts, were marching past him in the moonlight. Heavens, what numbers of them!A thousand- no, but a full hundred at least! "Eyes Right!" he thought despondently. Their faces turned towards him, but they had no faces, only featureless discs. He remembered a blue longyi here, a pair of ruby earrings there,but hardly a face or a name. The gods are just and of our pleasant vices (pleasant, indeed) make instruments to plague us. He had dirtied himself beyond redemption, and this was his just punishment.
He stood at the gate, watching them as they went. Elizabeth—lovely name, too rare nowadays. He hoped she spelt it with a 'z'. Ko S'la trotted after her at a queer and uncomfortable gait, reaching the umbrella over her head and keeping his body as far away from her as possible.
Ultime parole
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She has an exhaustive knowledge of the Civil List, gives charming little dinner-parties and knows how to put the wives of subordinate officials in their places—in short, she fills with complete success the position for which Nature had designed her from the first, that of a burra memsahib.
Orwell draws on his years of experience in India to tell this story of the waning days of British imperialism. A handful of Englishmen living in a settlement in Burma congregate in the European Club, drink whiskey, and argue over an impending order to admit a token Asian.