The dying art of the hatchet job An Article by Dorian Lynskey staging.unherd.com I find that the act of disagreeing with a sharp takedown sharpens my appreciation of the work in question. If I have to think a bit harder about what I like and why I like it, that’s fine by me, especially when it’s something that has been almost universally acclaimed. ...It’s not that I long for an epidemic of gleeful brutality but I will always cherish the right of critics to express their hate, hate, hate in the ultimate service of what they love, love, love. critique
1984 A Novel by George Orwell Into the dampness of a graveReality exists in the mindPerhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.We shall meet in the place where there is no darknessNothing was your own
Into the dampness of a grave He had the sensation of stepping into the dampness of a grave, and it was not much better because he had always known that the grave was there and waiting for him. death
Reality exists in the mind But I tell you, Winston, that reality is not external. Reality exists in the human mind, and nowhere else. realitymind
Nothing was your own Always the eyes watching you and the voice enveloping you. Asleep or awake, working or eating, indoors or out of doors, in the bath or in bed—no escape. Nothing was your own except the few cubic centimetres inside your skull. surveillanceownership