What’s it going to be then, eh?
Feeling shagged and fagged and fashed after a long nochy of crasting and fillying, O my brothers, I slid out A Clockwork Orange (1962) by Anthony Burgess and lay on my bed reading. It’s about a young malchick, Alex. He and his droogs spend their nochies peeting moloko (drinking milk, that is) and like at the old ultra violent – that is, tolchocking starry vecks and doing a bit of the old in and out with the devotchkas. But before long Alex is arrested and tolchocked in Staja (prison, that is). There the book focuses more on Burgess’ main theme – the brain-washing of poor Alex, as like a way of controlling young prestoopniks and all that.
The plot isn’t so horrorshow, but there are two vesches that make this book lovely. First the message. Burgess does a horrorshow job of like managing our sympathies for the narrator, Alex. His vonny deeds are shocking even today, but you can’t help but pony how cruel it is when he gets turned all bezoomny.
The most startling feature of the book though is the nadsat language. It’s like English but with irregular terms and slang. I viddy this nadsat sometimes disguises sentences that would otherwise be a malenky bit boring, but for the most part it makes it a real horrorshow read. It’s pitched just right so it’s not too hard to understand. They make every page a pleasure, and give the book a like distinctive tone and highlight Alex’s isolation from the world. They change an average story to a joyful joyful joyful vesche.
I put the book down and closed my glazzies, viddying Burgess’ like dystopian world of the future. Yes this, my brothers, is a horrorshow book and worth ittying to get a copy – you may even prefer it to the sinny.