Port Out, Starboard Home----memsahibs---a chakker of polo---chhota peg---solar topi---the veranda of the bungalow---natives---Gunga Din---these are all faded images, pictures from an old magazine found in an attic, words from books found in dusty secondhand bookstores. Still, within one lifetime ago they formed the picture of India and the East that people often had. Colonialism or Imperialism of the old kind didn't really die till the 1960s. Even so, most people born in the last half century grew up with Cold War images, talk about "underdevelopment", and "the Third World". The relations between "sahibs" and "natives" grew far from anyone's mind. Today, new topics exist. BURMESE DAYS is one of the best novels ever to emerge from that now-disappeared time. George Orwell, better known for "1984" and "Animal Farm", once served for five years in the British police in Burma, so he was able to portray colonial society much as it was, to set his novel in an authentically tropical Southeast Asian setting. Vividly colorful description, added to a very well-developed plot, make this a great novel, set in a small upper Burma town called Kyauktada in the 1920s. Burmese and Indian characters appear, but Orwell wisely chose to make the main characters British, a small group of mostly arrogant, racist men isolated for years on end, far from home, behaving with piggish closed-mindedness, refusing to learn anything about their surroundings, intent on segregation to the point of utter idiocy. Into this setting arrives Elizabeth, impoverished, poorly-educated and with snobbish pretensions. Flory, the only Englishman who takes any interest in Burma (even has a Burmese mistress), is attracted to the newcomer, perhaps seeing her as the only way out, or as the one person likely to understand what he felt about his fifteen years of loneliness. She is horrified by everything. The novel is a pessimistic tale of his dashed hopes, of nefarious plots, and even a revolt of sorts.
As a person who has spent five years in India and lived with Indians for the last 45 years, I have always disliked Kipling because his Indian characters (but not his British ones) are of extremely thin cardboard, though he claimed to "know Indians" and millions of people believed he did. Orwell was more perceptive, and in my opinion, a much better writer. His depiction of colonial relationships, the arrogance that came with too much power, and the internal sickness of colonialism ring very true. So, not only is this a great novel, it is an antidote to Kipling's oh-so-imperialist attitudes. Read it.
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