This book is real horrorshow. Both in the sense that, much like it means in nadsat, it's a unique book, with the fun language intertwined with well-written characters such as Alex that made it a joy to read. As well as that, it's a bleak examination of human conditioning, as well as of free will.
Alex is Your Humble Narrator, a teenager who enjoys violence more than anything, barring perhaps Beethoven's Ninth - indeed, it's this supposed dichotomy which perhaps seems contradictory because, in a way, it is. Even in a society where violence is rife amongst young people, he's somewhat of an anomaly - he's the only one properly punished in any way, the only one dealt with by authorities such as the Interior Inferior Minister, the only one the reader is pulled into feeling sympathy for. He's obviously not someone we should be supporting when he's tolchoking people such as F. Alexander and his wife, yet in Act 2, I felt somewhat sorry for him and the Ludovico procedure that he was put through. Any book that successfully manages to make you feel that way about such a character is certainly a well-written book, and is a testament to Burgess' writing. Alex is a rather quotable character, with odd dashes of Old English and manipulative nadsat separating him from the ranks of protagonists that I've read - obviously the unusual language helps, but his descent from joy into anxiety into sorrow is key too. Reading about how the Ludovico technique essentially made him into a lifeless being, now deprived of all joy and what made him human, was hard to say the least, and it's these various Alexes, all clearly the same character, just in different forms, that truly made the book stand out.
And that's partly the same with many of the characters, who, unlike Alex, don't really change at all. His droogs are now power-drunk police officers, the politicians using Alex however it suits them. Indeed, the only character who can definitely be sympathised with is F. Alexander, whose views on free will and conditioning remain, even after his wife was raped and died as a result of Alex (though he doesn't know it initially). And ultimately he falls victim to the state. There's not much joy in A Clockwork Orange - even at the end, as Alex seeks to move past his youth and become an adult, no one's truly punished or rewarded, barring those who least deserved it.
It would be a feat to review Clockwork without mentioning nadsat. When I started reading, I was happy that this seemingly complex slang was actually mainly derived from Russian terms, and since I understand Polish (like Russian, a Slavic language), it was fun picking out the words and correctly guessing what Burgess intended. It's extremely fun to read (that is, if you enjoy it), and perhaps the highlight of the book. Some of my favourite parts are where Alex can't be understood due to nadsat, the language itself serving as another barrier between the young and old. For one hundred and forty pages, it was a pleasure to take in the language, even if it was at times hard to read (nadsat and English doesn't flow as great as English). The nadsat helps the book feel like an account by Alex, perfectly capturing his emotions in a way a self-portrait couldn't - occasionally strangely amusing, as well as bleak and pleading.
Tell your fellow droogs and vecks to read A Clockwork Orange - if they don't enjoy it, then I'm surprised. Burgess managed to make a violent character like Alex a fun, sympathisable teenager, and whilst the book may not be the easiest thing to get through, it's definitely rewarding, and a unique perspective on free will - taking the question of redemption to the (hypothetical) extreme.
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