Keep the Aspidistra Flying

I enjoyed this one of Orwells, written in 1936, and set in 1930s London. Gordon is a character set up to be pitied and despised, but who also grudgingly earns some respect, for sticking to his philosophy - no matter how theoretical and impractical it is.

There is no doubt the novel is deep into description - and for me that was what made it, the descriptive 1930s London, the grimy and impoverished existence of Gordon Comstock, the mundanities of every-day life in a going nowhere job, a struggling poet in the evening. The aspidistra as a symbol of middle-middle-class, Gordon's reluctance to use his three penny bit (which he calls a Joey) and his view that everyone would know it was his last coin.

Gordon offers enough for the reader to become, at least, partly invested in him. He lives a meagre existence by choice, nevertheless disdains it. He resigns from a good job, as he declared his ‘war on money' and seeks only ‘a job' (but not a ‘good job'), while continually blaming his lack of money for his failure of a social life, and his going-nowhere relationship with Rosemary.

Of the other characters, Ravelston is for me the most interesting. Ravelston is relatively wealthy, but lives down as a part of his belief in socialism, become a benefactor to Gordon, trying as he might to encourage him to further his poetry, and using his position as an editor of a socialist magazine to publish a little of Gordon's work. Gordon is constantly battling against Ravelston, determined not to bludge off him, yet looking up to him at the same time.

While others may consider it too long, I enjoyed the descriptive nature of this story, and could have read more, and particularly enjoyed the bookshop description, and the scenes of public transport, and London in general.
4.5 stars, rounded down, as it isn't quite a 5 star book.

Some quotes:

They were one of those depressing families, so common among the middle-middle class, in which nothing ever happens.–Gordon put his hand against the swing door. He even pushed it open a few inches. The warm fog of smoke and beer slipped through the crack. A familiar, reviving smell; nevertheless as he smelled it his nerve failed him. No! Impossible to go in. He turned away. He couldn't go shoving into that saloon bar with only fourpence halfpenny in his pocket. Never let other people buy your drinks for you! The first commandment of the moneyless. He made off down the dark pavement.–“The mistake you make, don't you see,is in thinking one can live in a corrupt society without being corrupt oneself. After all, what do you achieve by refusing to make money? You're trying to behave as though one could stand right outside our economic system. But one can't. One's got to change the system, or one changes nothing. One can't put things right in a hole-and-corner way, if you take my meaning.”–The aspidistra became a sort of symbol for Gordon after that. The aspidistra, the flower of England! It ought to be on our coat of arms instead of the lion and the unicorn. There will be no revolution in England while there are aspidistras in the windows.”