All Art Is Propaganda

All Art Is Propaganda

George Orwell

Mariner Books / Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
BOSTON NEW YORK

First Mariner Books edition 2009
Compilation copyright © 2008 by The Estate of the late Sonia Brownell Orwell
Foreword copyright © 2008 by George Packer
Introduction copyright © 2008 by Keith Gessen

All rights reserved

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book,
write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company,
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www.hmhbooks.com

Essays collected from The Complete Works of George Orwell, edited by Peter Davison,

OBE, published in Great Britain in 1998 by Secker & Warburg. Grateful
acknowledgement is made to Peter Davison for permission to draw from his notes.

Excerpts from "The Dry Salvages" in Four Quartets, copyright 1941 by
T. S. Eliot and renewed 1969 by Esme Valerie Eliot, reprinted by permission
of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company.

Excerpts from "East Coker" in Four Quartets, copyright 1940 by T. S. Eliot
and renewed 1968 by Esme Valerie Eliot, reprinted by permission
of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company.

Excerpt from "Spain" from Selected Poems, Expanded Edition
by W. H. Auden, edited by Edward Mendelsohn. Used by permission
of Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Orwell, George, 1903–1950.
All art is propaganda: critical essays/by George Orwell; compiled by George Packer;
with an introduction by Keith Gessen.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references.
I. Packer, George, 1960—II. Title.
PR6029.R8A626 2008
824'.912—dc2 2 2008012356

ISBN 978-0-15-101355-5
ISBN 978-0-15-603307-7 (pbk.)

Text set in Garamond MT
Designed by Cathy Riggs

Printed in the United States of America

DOC 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

CONTENTS

Foreword by George Packer • ix

Introduction by Keith Gessen • xvii

Charles Dickens • 1

Boys' Weeklies • 63

Inside the Whale • 95

Drama Reviews: The Tempest, The Peaceful Inn • 141

Film Review: The Great Dictator • 144

Wells, Hitler and the World State • 148

The Art of Donald McGill • 156

No, Not One • 169

Rudyard Kipling • 177

T. S. Eliot • 194

Can Socialists Be Happy? • 202

Benefit of Clergy: Some Notes on Salvador Dali • 210

Propaganda and Demotic Speech • 223

Raffles and Miss Blandish • 232

Good Bad Books • 248

The Prevention of Literature • 253

Politics and the English Language • 270

Confessions of a Book Reviewer • 287

Politics vs. Literature: An Examination of Gulliver's Travels • 292

Lear, Tolstoy and the Fool • 316

Writers and Leviathan • 337

Review of The Heart of the Matter by Graham Greene • 346

Reflections on Gandhi • 352

Notes • 363

FOREWORD

BEFORE anything else, George Orwell was an essayist. His earliest published pieces were essays; so were his last deathbed writings. In between, he never stopped working at the essay's essential task of articulating thoughts out of the stuff of life and art in a compressed space with a distinctly individual voice that speaks directly to the reader. The essay perfectly suited Orwell's idiosyncratic talents. It takes precedence even in his best-known fiction: During long passages of 1984, the novelistic surface cracks and splits open under the pressure of the essayist's concerns. His more obscure novels of social realism from the 1930s are marked, and to some extent marred, by an essayist's explaining; and his great nonfiction books, Down and Out in Paris and London, The Road to Wigan Pier, and Homage to Catalonia, continually slip between particular and general, concrete and abstract, narration and exposition, in a way that would be alien to a storytelling purist and that defines Orwell's core purpose as a writer. As soon as he began to write something, it was as natural for Orwell to propose, generalize, qualify, argue, judge—in short, to think—as it was for Yeats to versify or Dickens to invent. In his best work, Orwell's arguments are mostly with himself.

Part of the essay's congeniality for Orwell is its flexibility. All a reader asks is that the essayist mean what he says and say something interesting, in a voice that's recognizably his; beyond that, subject matter, length, structure, and occasion are extremely variable. Orwell, who produced a staggering amount of prose over the course of a career cut short at forty-six by tuberculosis, was a working journalist, and in the two volumes of this new selection of his essays you will find book, film, and theater reviews, newspaper columns, and war reporting, as well as cultural commentary, literary criticism, political argument, autobiographical fragments, and longer personal narratives. In Orwell's hands, they are all essays. He is always pointing to larger concerns beyond the immediate scope of his subject.

Orwell had the advantage of tradition: He worked in the lineage of the English essay dating back to the eighteenth century, whose earlier masters were Samuel Johnson, Charles Lamb, and William Hazlitt, and whose last great representative was Orwell himself. Within this tradition it was entirely natural for a writer to move between fiction and nonfiction, journalism and autobiography, the daily newspaper, the weekly or monthly magazine, and the quarterly review; and between the subjects of art, literature, culture, politics, and himself. This tradition hasn't thrived in the United States. Our national literature was born with the anxieties and ambitions of New World arrivistes, and Americans have always regarded the novel as the highest form of literary art; if we recognize essays at all, it's as the minor work of novelists and poets (and yet some of the greatest modern essayists—James Baldwin and Edmund Wilson, to name two—have been Americans). As for journalism of the kind that Orwell routinely turned out, the word itself has suggested something like the opposite of literature to an American reader.