The discussion of A Clockwork Orange is well past overdue.   Most of us in my informal book club have been very busy over the past few months, and reading a book and finding an available time for to meet up has been difficult for some.   I’m a little concerned that choosing A Clockwork Orange may have put one of the nails in the group’s coffin, because I’m fairly certain it didn’t hold mass appeal.  Having seen the Stanley Kubrick movie first, I was prepared for Alex’s gleeful portrayal of the violent life he led, and I expected that it might be a bit gruesome for others to read. Interestingly, it actually turned out to be a much lighter read than I expected.

The book is written in Nadsat, a dialect Burgess created for the book composed of “…odd bits of old rhyming slang.  A bit of gypsy talk, too. But most of the roots are Slav. Propaganda. Subliminal penetration.”  At the beginning, Alex’s dialog is confusing and foreign, but Burgess quickly gives plenty of clues as to the meaning of unfamiliar words.  Of course, most printings of the book now have a glossary.  Failing that, an online version is easy to come by.  After a chapter or so, the reader should have a general handle on the language without any aids, anyway.  I found this an interesting device, but  I enjoy plays with language and am fascinated with how pidgins and dialects are formed and function.  Alex is very musical, and that comes through in his speech patterns. I enjoyed the parallelism to the music in his lyric turns of phrase, but others found it to be distraction from the larger message of the work.

To complicate matters further, the British version has a signicant difference to the originally published American version, and I almost missed it entirely.  My copy, printed in the 60s, was on loan from the local library.  A few of the other girls were reading an online copy. About an hour before meeting time on our original discussion date, I was looking online for interesting talking points.  I kept running across a question about the significance of the drink Alex orders in the last chapter. I was absolutely confused.  There’s no opportunity for Alex to order a drink in the last chapter!  Did I nod off somewhere near the end?!

A quick online search solved the mystery. Originally, the final chapter was simply not published in America. I found Anthony Burgess’ essay on the situation and the missing last chapter with 30 minutes to spare.   I think the book is stronger without the moralizing of the last chapter, but it wasn’t my work.  If Burgess had a formula and a plan, how much should it be honored? I suppose, in the end, he allowed it to be published without that last chapter, so he made the decision himself.

I grinned as I read Burgess’ introduction:

I first published the novella A Clockwork Orange in 1962, which ought to be far enough in the past for it to be erased from the world’s literary memory. It refuses to be erased, however, and for this the film version of the book made by Stanley Kubrick may be held chiefly responsible. I should myself be glad to disown it for various reasons, but this is not permitted. I receive mail from students who try to write theses about it, or requests from Japanese dramaturges to turn it into a sort of Noh play. It seems likely to survive, while other works of mine that I value more bite the dust. This is not an unusual experience for an artist. Rachmaninoff used to groan because he was known mainly for a Prelude in C Sharp Minor which he wrote as a boy, while the works of his maturity never got into the programmes. Kids cut their pianistic teeth on a Minuet in G which Beethoven composed only so that he could detest it. I have to go on living with A Clockwork Orange, and this means I have a sort of authorial duty to it. I have a very special duty to it in the United States, and I had better now explain what that duty is.

So he wasn’t very fond of the book, himself!  There was a talking point, and I was very excited, but also distraught.  As I was frantically trying to print out 6 copies of that last chapter so we would all have it to refer to, I got a phone call.  Only one of the girls had been able to read it, and quite a few of the group wasn’t going to be able to make it after all.  The extra time was actually a relief, and absolved me from dealing with a frustrating paper jam.

A month later, we still haven’t discussed the book in much detail.  The misadventures along the way taught me more about the book than I would have learned simply buying it from the bookstore. As I said, I really enjoyed it, but it does read like an early work, and I understand why Burgess later found it to be distasteful. I also understand why Kubrick and the American publisher chose to forego the last chapter.  I still find myself conflicted about that last chapter. I’ve tried very hard not to spoil anything for anyone in this post on the off chance that some of you are still working on the book.  Still, I hope that even if we don’t meet, that everyone would feel free to talk about the book in the comments, whether they are a part of the book club or not.