Literary Analysis of Fahrenheit 451
- Symbolism: What Ray Bradbury Is Really Saying
Ray Bradbury’s dystopian novel Fahrenheit 451 is set in a futuristic world where owning and reading books is illegal, and if a citizen is caught with one, it’s burned. Throughout Fahrenheit 451 Bradbury uses the literary device of symbolism; with the symbols ranging from aspects of the firemen’s uniforms, to the fire itself, and the Phoenix at the conclusion of the story.
In Part 1, “The Hearth and the Salamander”, Bradbury describes the uniform all of the firefighters wear. The reader is introduced to Guy Montage, the protagonist of the story; Montage is a firefighter that comes from a long line of firefighters before him, including his father and grandfather. The uniform he wears everyday consists of the number 451 on the helmet, as well as a salamander patch on his arm. The number 451 is not only on the firefighter’s helmets, but it is part of the title of the novel as well, and Bradbury comes right out and tells the reader that it’s symbolic, stating that Montage wears “his symbolic helmet numbered 451 on his stolid head…” (Bradbury 33). In the Introduction of Fahrenheit 451 Bradbury explains that he chose the number because, “book-paper catches fire at 451 degrees Fahrenheit” (29). The only job the firefighters have in this novel is to burn books, which shows why the number 451 on their helmets is symbolic. The salamander is the second symbol used, not only on the firefighter’s uniforms, but it’s etched on the side of the ignitors they use to start fires, and it’s what they call their firetrucks. According to R. Sydlowski’s Salamandra Salamandra in traditional folklore Salamanders were thought to be able to survive fire because they could be seen crawling out of logs tossed on to fires. Due to folklore causing people to think salamanders are fireproof and the fact that the only thing to survive fires in Fahrenheit 451 are the firefighters, making them seem fireproof as well, it’s possible that this is the reason Bradbury associates salamanders with firefighters and therefore uses salamanders as a symbol in the novel.
The most common and ever-changing symbol that appears in Fahrenheit 451 is fire itself. At the beginning of the novel, as Alan Lenhoff points out in his article, Making Fire Mean More Than Fire. How Authors Use Symbols fire stands for something that causes destruction. Fire is described with words such as venomous, blazing, burning, and ruin, all words that Bradbury uses with a negative connotation. The reader learns that Montage enjoys watching things burn, “It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed” (Bradbury 33). However, the symbolism of fire changes as the book progresses. When Montage meets Clarisse McClellan, his young neighbour, he stares into her eyes and he is struck by a memory of his mother from when he was a child. The electricity had gone out and his mother lit a candle, the two of them spent hours rediscovering life without TV walls or Seashell earphones. When fire is discussed in this passage, words such as illumination, comfortably, rediscovery, and transformed are used in a way that points to peace, not damage. Fire changes yet again when Montage is walking down a set of railroad tracks and sees a fire burning. “That small motion, the white and red colour, a strange fire because it meant a different thing to him. It was not burning, it was warming” (Bradbury 171). At this point in the novel Montage is on the run and is looking for a group of men that are said to live along the railroad tracks, some of the men have Harvard degrees and are wanted for the same reason Montage was at the beginning of all the madness, possessing and reading books. The symbolism of fire at this point in the novel is for warmth, and survival, not destruction. Montage realizes that he is once again seeing fire in a different light, “He hadn’t known fire could look this way. He had never thought in his life that it could give as well as take.” (Bradbury 171)(Lenhoff).
At the end of Fahrenheit 451, the Phoenix is another symbol used. The war that has been spoken about since the beginning of the novel finally comes to fruition. After the bombing is over and the dust has settled, Granger, one of the men Montage meets along the railroad tracks, says, “Phoenix… …There was a silly damn bird called a Phoenix back before Christ” (Bradbury 188). According to Encyclopædia Britannica’s article, Phoenix | Mythological Bird, the bird itself was “widely interpreted as an allegory of resurrection and life after death.” The life cycle of the Phoenix was said to be long, and at the end of the cycle the bird built a pyre and was consumed within the flames. Out of the ashes the Phoenix was born again and the cycle continued on, with only one Phoenix living at a time. The symbolism of the Phoenix is fitting in this situation because the town has been burnt down by the bombs dropped on it; this is similar to the Phoenix setting itself on fire. However, what the towns people have that the Phoenix didn’t was the ability to realize what caused the fire that led to its destruction, and as Granger points out, “…as long as we know that and always have it around where we can see it, someday we’ll stop making the goddamn funeral pyres and jumping in the middle of them” (Bradbury 189). Not only does the Phoenix symbolize the character’s ability to start over, but the fire the bird burns itself in is related to the symbolism of fire discussed earlier. The symbolism behind the fire caused by the bombings and the burning of the Phoenix is one of purity and purging, not destruction. (Encyclopædia Britannica).
Symbolism in writing is an idea that has been used and debated in some of the best literary works of all time, not just in Fahrenheit 451. Symbols aren’t always obvious and can be ever-changing throughout a novel, as shown by Bradbury. In the end, it’s not vital for a reader to understand the symbolism used in this novel or any other novel for that matter; the novel can be enjoyed even if only taken at face value. However, by taking the time to consider the symbolism an author uses and what it could mean, we can open up a whole new meaning of the story.
Works Cited
Bradbury, Ray. Fahrenheit 451. New York: Simon& Schuster, 2003. Print.
Lenhoff, Alan. Making Fire Mean More Than Fire. How Authors Use Symbols. Writing 22.2 (1999): 14. Academic Search Complete. Web. 25 Mar. 2015
Singh, Shiveta. Phoenix | Mythological Bird. Encyclopedia Britannica Online. Encyclopedia Britannica, 17 Apr. 2008. Web. 11 Apr. 2015.
Sydlowski, R. Salamandra Salamandra. Animal Diversity Web. 1 Jan. 2000. Web. 9 Apr. 2015.
Reviews
Bahrani.CreditCreditMichael Gibson/HBO
By James Poniewozik May 16, 2018
Probably. Even if you are not familiar with the Ray Bradbury source novel, “Fahrenheit” makes it quickly, hammeringly clear that it is a cautionary tale. You’ll get that from the urban-noir aesthetic, the school-indoctrination sessions and the fact that Montag’s job as a “fireman” involves not fighting fires but starting them — burning humanity’s last remaining books as well as their digital reproductions, all of which have been outlawed.
Electronic media change, but the anxiety about them remains. In Mr. Bradbury’s day, it was the sudden rise of TV as America’s pastime; today it’s the ubiquitous screens that have us checking Twitter during our morning ablutions. (I know, I know, I’m trying to quit.)
But the dystopia of the new “Fahrenheit 451,” airing Saturday on HBO, is generic, its critique muddled and its tone as subtle as a flamethrower.
Mr. Bradbury’s novel, published in 1953, required some technological and conceptual updating. Some of its concerns are timeless, others specifically 1950s. It worries about postwar social conformity, anti-intellectualism, McCarthyism and the homogenizing power of the new medium of TV to flatten out differences in thought and make its audience placid.
That last concern — mass media imposing what Dwight Macdonald called “masscult” — is in one sense flipped today. Critics of niche and social media today also see a dumbed-down society, but one that’s polarized and agitated, divided and subdivided into mutually hostile subcultures and media bubbles.
The director, Ramin Bahrani, who wrote the screenplay with Amir Naderi, is trying to retrofit the “Black Mirror” anxieties of today onto a story built of “Twilight Zone”-style Cold War preoccupations. Some elements translate, but often the strains show.
Mr. Bahrani’s most effective innovations are visual. Where Bradbury envisioned “parlor walls” — video screens that turned homes into immersive televisions — in HBO’s version, nearly everything is a screen. That includes the sides of skyscrapers, which broadcast the exploits of Montag and his crew as a kind of pyromaniacal propaganda reality show.
Books however still survive on the state-approved internet, but condensed into single emoji-strewn paragraphs, "Moby-Dick" now begins: "Ishamael (right-pointing arrow) (anchor_ an a (Whale) (boat)." This kind of literature is "all you need," says Montag's rigid superior Captain beatty (Michael Shannon). "Anything else will make you sick, crazy." This future America has no patience for nuance.
Nor does this “Fahrenheit.” Its aesthetic can best be described as Standard Totalitarian Future. Electronic signs read “HAPPINESS IS TRUTH.” Americans have happily surrendered literacy in favor of propaganda and opiate entertainments consumed in virtual-reality lairs. The film also includes, as has become semi-mandatory these days, a clunky allusion to Trumpism in the firemen’s chant, “Time to burn for America Again!”
The critique is passionate. But it feels incoherent, maybe in part because “Fahrenheit” has been adapted to a more fragmented era of media.
Mr. Bradbury’s midcentury warning was that TV was supplanting the culture of the word and the sort of complex thought it promoted. Then video culture further evolved into the cacophonous one of the internet. America, Mr. Bahrani’s “Fahrenheit” tells us, rejected that culture along with books, in the name of societal cohesion (too many offensive ideas).
So we replaced it with … more social media? Except with more terrifying men carrying flamethrowers? “Fahrenheit 451” explains this, sort of, in expository downloads that feel like spackle on the narrative cracks.
Mr. Jordan (“Creed”) puts flesh on Montag’s conflict — he finds himself drawn to the books he’s charged to destroy, brought blinkingly awake by encountering the willful anti-logic of Dostoyevsky’s “Notes From Underground.” But the script does little to give him inner life beyond some flashbacks. Mr. Shannon’s imperious enforcer lacks the eccentric spark he brings to his best roles.
The two firemen eventually fall out as Montag becomes close to Clarisse (Sofia Boutella), a member of the Eels, a grim set of rebels who say things like, “The revolution is not a dinner party.” They conserve not just novels, which they have committed to memory, but visual art, films and vinyl LPs. (Vintage record stores, evidently, will be the arsenals of the #resistance.)
Mr. Bahrani, whose past work includes closely observed films like “Chop Shop” and “99 Homes,” does prove adept at directing scaled-up action, as the film’s final act moves into thriller mode, building to a pyrotechnic climax and resolving on a lovely visual metaphor. Its passion for the word notwithstanding, “Fahrenheit” works better in the end as image than text.
Fahrenheit 451 is set in a grim alternate-future setting ruled by a tyrannical government in which firemen as we understand them no longer exist: Here, firemen don't douse fires, they ignite them. And they do this specifically in homes that house the most evil of evils: books.
Books are illegal in Bradbury's world, but books are not what his fictional—yet extremely plausible—government fears: They fear the knowledge one pulls from books. Through the government's incessant preaching, the inhabitants of this place have come to loathe books and fear those who keep and attempt to read them. They see such people as eccentric, dangerous, and threatening to the tranquility of their state.
But one day a fireman named Montag meets a young girl who demonstrates to him the beauty of books, of knowledge, of conceiving and sharing ideas; she wakes him up, changing his life forever. When Montag's previously held ideology comes crashing down around him, he is forced to reconsider the meaning of his existence and the part he plays. After Montag discovers that "all isn't well with the world," he sets out to make things right.
A brilliant and frightening novel, Fahrenheit 451 is the classic narrative about censorship; utterly chilling in its implications, Ray Bradbury's masterwork captivates thousands of new readers each year.
Andrew LeCount - Barnes and Noble
Bahrani.CreditCreditMichael Gibson/HBO
By James Poniewozik May 16, 2018
- Early in “Fahrenheit 451,” Montag (Michael B. Jordan) readies himself in front of his bathroom mirror, which doubles as a supersize smart screen, pulsating with news updates and a never-ending river of responses from his social-media followers.
Probably. Even if you are not familiar with the Ray Bradbury source novel, “Fahrenheit” makes it quickly, hammeringly clear that it is a cautionary tale. You’ll get that from the urban-noir aesthetic, the school-indoctrination sessions and the fact that Montag’s job as a “fireman” involves not fighting fires but starting them — burning humanity’s last remaining books as well as their digital reproductions, all of which have been outlawed.
Electronic media change, but the anxiety about them remains. In Mr. Bradbury’s day, it was the sudden rise of TV as America’s pastime; today it’s the ubiquitous screens that have us checking Twitter during our morning ablutions. (I know, I know, I’m trying to quit.)
But the dystopia of the new “Fahrenheit 451,” airing Saturday on HBO, is generic, its critique muddled and its tone as subtle as a flamethrower.
Mr. Bradbury’s novel, published in 1953, required some technological and conceptual updating. Some of its concerns are timeless, others specifically 1950s. It worries about postwar social conformity, anti-intellectualism, McCarthyism and the homogenizing power of the new medium of TV to flatten out differences in thought and make its audience placid.
That last concern — mass media imposing what Dwight Macdonald called “masscult” — is in one sense flipped today. Critics of niche and social media today also see a dumbed-down society, but one that’s polarized and agitated, divided and subdivided into mutually hostile subcultures and media bubbles.
The director, Ramin Bahrani, who wrote the screenplay with Amir Naderi, is trying to retrofit the “Black Mirror” anxieties of today onto a story built of “Twilight Zone”-style Cold War preoccupations. Some elements translate, but often the strains show.
Mr. Bahrani’s most effective innovations are visual. Where Bradbury envisioned “parlor walls” — video screens that turned homes into immersive televisions — in HBO’s version, nearly everything is a screen. That includes the sides of skyscrapers, which broadcast the exploits of Montag and his crew as a kind of pyromaniacal propaganda reality show.
Books however still survive on the state-approved internet, but condensed into single emoji-strewn paragraphs, "Moby-Dick" now begins: "Ishamael (right-pointing arrow) (anchor_ an a (Whale) (boat)." This kind of literature is "all you need," says Montag's rigid superior Captain beatty (Michael Shannon). "Anything else will make you sick, crazy." This future America has no patience for nuance.
Nor does this “Fahrenheit.” Its aesthetic can best be described as Standard Totalitarian Future. Electronic signs read “HAPPINESS IS TRUTH.” Americans have happily surrendered literacy in favor of propaganda and opiate entertainments consumed in virtual-reality lairs. The film also includes, as has become semi-mandatory these days, a clunky allusion to Trumpism in the firemen’s chant, “Time to burn for America Again!”
The critique is passionate. But it feels incoherent, maybe in part because “Fahrenheit” has been adapted to a more fragmented era of media.
Mr. Bradbury’s midcentury warning was that TV was supplanting the culture of the word and the sort of complex thought it promoted. Then video culture further evolved into the cacophonous one of the internet. America, Mr. Bahrani’s “Fahrenheit” tells us, rejected that culture along with books, in the name of societal cohesion (too many offensive ideas).
So we replaced it with … more social media? Except with more terrifying men carrying flamethrowers? “Fahrenheit 451” explains this, sort of, in expository downloads that feel like spackle on the narrative cracks.
Mr. Jordan (“Creed”) puts flesh on Montag’s conflict — he finds himself drawn to the books he’s charged to destroy, brought blinkingly awake by encountering the willful anti-logic of Dostoyevsky’s “Notes From Underground.” But the script does little to give him inner life beyond some flashbacks. Mr. Shannon’s imperious enforcer lacks the eccentric spark he brings to his best roles.
The two firemen eventually fall out as Montag becomes close to Clarisse (Sofia Boutella), a member of the Eels, a grim set of rebels who say things like, “The revolution is not a dinner party.” They conserve not just novels, which they have committed to memory, but visual art, films and vinyl LPs. (Vintage record stores, evidently, will be the arsenals of the #resistance.)
Mr. Bahrani, whose past work includes closely observed films like “Chop Shop” and “99 Homes,” does prove adept at directing scaled-up action, as the film’s final act moves into thriller mode, building to a pyrotechnic climax and resolving on a lovely visual metaphor. Its passion for the word notwithstanding, “Fahrenheit” works better in the end as image than text.
Fahrenheit 451 is set in a grim alternate-future setting ruled by a tyrannical government in which firemen as we understand them no longer exist: Here, firemen don't douse fires, they ignite them. And they do this specifically in homes that house the most evil of evils: books.
Books are illegal in Bradbury's world, but books are not what his fictional—yet extremely plausible—government fears: They fear the knowledge one pulls from books. Through the government's incessant preaching, the inhabitants of this place have come to loathe books and fear those who keep and attempt to read them. They see such people as eccentric, dangerous, and threatening to the tranquility of their state.
But one day a fireman named Montag meets a young girl who demonstrates to him the beauty of books, of knowledge, of conceiving and sharing ideas; she wakes him up, changing his life forever. When Montag's previously held ideology comes crashing down around him, he is forced to reconsider the meaning of his existence and the part he plays. After Montag discovers that "all isn't well with the world," he sets out to make things right.
A brilliant and frightening novel, Fahrenheit 451 is the classic narrative about censorship; utterly chilling in its implications, Ray Bradbury's masterwork captivates thousands of new readers each year.
Andrew LeCount - Barnes and Noble
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Human Experiences Portrayed in this Text
Fear
Knowledge
Ignorance
Hostility
Envy
Tension
Equality
Self-understanding
Spiritual resurrection
Futility
Misery
Surrender
Authority
Ruthlessness
Innocence
Materialism
Aging
Charity
Equality
Loneliness
Relationships
Death
Tension
Fear
Knowledge
Ignorance
Hostility
Envy
Tension
Equality
Self-understanding
Spiritual resurrection
Futility
Misery
Surrender
Authority
Ruthlessness
Innocence
Materialism
Aging
Charity
Equality
Loneliness
Relationships
Death
Tension