1951, first edition
Anita Loos
Illustrated by Pallavicini
A Mouse Is Born
Original price unknown, purchase price $1.50
Good condition hardcover
B-
Loos tells the story of another dumb blonde, but this one is an expectant mother, Effie Huntriss, who writes her autobiography addressed to her unborn "mouse," a term she chooses because it's "by-sexual," i.e. gender-neutral. There is some actual bisexuality in the book though, since Effie finds herself attracted to Inga Swenson, whom she thinks her current (fourth) husband is having an affair with. There's also a gay bookstore manager, Vernon, who gets Effie reading material and helps her manage her household, but he's rudely cast aside after Effie's son is born. Effie is more sentimental and romantic than Lorelei Lee, and in fact when Vernon brings her Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Effie thinks it's about finance.
Effie tells of her many marriages and of her film career as a sex symbol, with The Nude Deal as her debut. The writing isn't as sharp as in the "Lorelei" books, but it's definitely better than in the Wodehouse books about Hollywood. The Pallavicini drawings are mostly of the racier moments in Effie's movies, although he does illustrate the bundle of joy as a mouse.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Hidden Valley of Oz
1951, 1991 International Wizard of Oz edition
Rachel R. Cosgrove
Illustrated by "Dirk" (Dirk Gringuis)
Hidden Valley of Oz
Original and/or purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
C
A giant pink-eyed rat waves to a little boy and very cartoony versions of the Scarecrow, Tin Woodman, and Hungry Tiger. Oh boy! I can't wait to read this!
Maybe in the early 1950s, the artwork didn't stand out as so bad, but it certainly doesn't look inviting now. Sometimes you can judge a book by its cover, and this is indeed a much weaker book than The Lion, tWatW. I didn't read it till I was an adult, but I can't imagine ever enjoying it as much as Baum. The writing is OK. Cosgrove has some creative ideas, like Spots the Leopard who changes, well, his spots. But she shows a Thompsonian liking for rambling. Characters will show up and then leave, for almost no reason in either case. Again like Thompson, she gives Dorothy almost nothing to do. Not that the Snowically-badly named protagonist "Jam" has much to do either. The actual hero is the aforementioned rat, Percy the Personality Kid, who calls everyone "kiddo."
One thing that Cosgrove does better than the other Royal Historians, including Baum, is write doggerel. She's got some clever rhymes for the Rhyming Dictionary, a citizen of Bookville. I wish she'd been given the task of going back and rewriting the poetry in most of the previous Oz books, particularly some of Thompson's. As for writing a full-length Oz book, well, obviously it's not the worst. She shows more knowledge of Oz than Neill did, and of course more sanity. Given an artist who could improve and a second chance, like Snow got, her second book would probably get a B-.
And in fact, in her forty-years-later Afterword, she tells of her then still unreleased Wicked Witch of Oz. The International Wizard of Oz Club published it in '93, five years before her death. I've never read it, but I do appreciate that they got Eric Shanower, the best modern Oz artist, to do the illustrations. Dirk died in '74, after illustrating three Boxcar Children books among others. Presumably, he'd improved by then.
There's one more book of the Famous Forty. For years and years, I've been hearing that it's a vast improvement over the post-Thompson stories. So of course I've never seen Merry Go Round in Oz (1963). I suppose I could get it as an interlibrary loan, but it wouldn't fit in with this project. We'll see how I feel when I get up to '63, since I could mention it briefly in another post.
Rachel R. Cosgrove
Illustrated by "Dirk" (Dirk Gringuis)
Hidden Valley of Oz
Original and/or purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
C
A giant pink-eyed rat waves to a little boy and very cartoony versions of the Scarecrow, Tin Woodman, and Hungry Tiger. Oh boy! I can't wait to read this!
Maybe in the early 1950s, the artwork didn't stand out as so bad, but it certainly doesn't look inviting now. Sometimes you can judge a book by its cover, and this is indeed a much weaker book than The Lion, tWatW. I didn't read it till I was an adult, but I can't imagine ever enjoying it as much as Baum. The writing is OK. Cosgrove has some creative ideas, like Spots the Leopard who changes, well, his spots. But she shows a Thompsonian liking for rambling. Characters will show up and then leave, for almost no reason in either case. Again like Thompson, she gives Dorothy almost nothing to do. Not that the Snowically-badly named protagonist "Jam" has much to do either. The actual hero is the aforementioned rat, Percy the Personality Kid, who calls everyone "kiddo."
One thing that Cosgrove does better than the other Royal Historians, including Baum, is write doggerel. She's got some clever rhymes for the Rhyming Dictionary, a citizen of Bookville. I wish she'd been given the task of going back and rewriting the poetry in most of the previous Oz books, particularly some of Thompson's. As for writing a full-length Oz book, well, obviously it's not the worst. She shows more knowledge of Oz than Neill did, and of course more sanity. Given an artist who could improve and a second chance, like Snow got, her second book would probably get a B-.
And in fact, in her forty-years-later Afterword, she tells of her then still unreleased Wicked Witch of Oz. The International Wizard of Oz Club published it in '93, five years before her death. I've never read it, but I do appreciate that they got Eric Shanower, the best modern Oz artist, to do the illustrations. Dirk died in '74, after illustrating three Boxcar Children books among others. Presumably, he'd improved by then.
There's one more book of the Famous Forty. For years and years, I've been hearing that it's a vast improvement over the post-Thompson stories. So of course I've never seen Merry Go Round in Oz (1963). I suppose I could get it as an interlibrary loan, but it wouldn't fit in with this project. We'll see how I feel when I get up to '63, since I could mention it briefly in another post.
The Old Reliable
1950
P. G. Wodehouse
The Old Reliable
C-
This is much like Spring Fever, in that it is a bit boring, has lots of typos, mildly satirises Hollywood, and presents a warped view of romance. The title character is "Aunt Bill," short for Wilhelmina, a down on her luck writer who one, has had a mostly unrequited crush on her sister's brother-in-law for twenty years even though he's scared of marriage; two, encourages her friend Joe to keep proposing to her niece Kay, even though Kay has turned him down fifteen times and he has threatened to break a bottle over Kay's head; and three, slips a Mickey Finn into Joe's drink to make Kay feel sorry for him. (It works.) Meanwhile, Bill is ghost-writing her sister's autobiography about being an actress in the silent-movie days. And there's a red-hot diary by another actress, now dead. And a butler who knows how to crack safes. And lots of quotes of Shakespeare by Bill. And it feels rather stale, all the more so for then almost 70-year-old Wodehouse attempting to be modern. (At one point he uses "Hedy Lamarr" and "Lily Langtry" in the same sentence.)
P. G. Wodehouse
The Old Reliable
C-
This is much like Spring Fever, in that it is a bit boring, has lots of typos, mildly satirises Hollywood, and presents a warped view of romance. The title character is "Aunt Bill," short for Wilhelmina, a down on her luck writer who one, has had a mostly unrequited crush on her sister's brother-in-law for twenty years even though he's scared of marriage; two, encourages her friend Joe to keep proposing to her niece Kay, even though Kay has turned him down fifteen times and he has threatened to break a bottle over Kay's head; and three, slips a Mickey Finn into Joe's drink to make Kay feel sorry for him. (It works.) Meanwhile, Bill is ghost-writing her sister's autobiography about being an actress in the silent-movie days. And there's a red-hot diary by another actress, now dead. And a butler who knows how to crack safes. And lots of quotes of Shakespeare by Bill. And it feels rather stale, all the more so for then almost 70-year-old Wodehouse attempting to be modern. (At one point he uses "Hedy Lamarr" and "Lily Langtry" in the same sentence.)
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
1950, 1970 Collier edition
C. S. Lewis
Illustrated by Pauline Baynes
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe: A Story for Children
Original price $2.50, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
B+
This is the best children's book, or indeed any book I own, in almost a decade, the first sign that the 1950s will be better than the 1940s. To begin with, the illustrations are good. It was the sort of Yellow-Submarinish cover art that originally drew me in, but the tiny art for the chapter headings by Baynes, with their surprising amount of detail and characterization, helped keep me going.
There's also the cosiness of the writing. That may seem an odd word to apply to a book where a charming yet evil witch has made it always winter but never Christmas. Lewis has a very chatty style, often addressing the reader as "you," in a much less condescending way than Bronte in Jane Eyre. Also, the descriptions of the homes of Mr. Tumnus and the beavers sound very inviting. Even the description of Rumblebuffin, the good giant, is warm and down to earth.
Of course, this is also a story of battle, where Peter and Edmund must prove themselves in different ways. Lewis says that girls and women fighting in war is an ugly thing, which would be news to Glinda and her army, although Narnia is admittedly a much more violent place than Oz.
As a child raised by an atheist, I remember feeling betrayed when I found out that the Narnia books were Christian parables. I thought that was very sneaky of Lewis, compared to Wilder, who simply was a Christian as part of being a 19th-century pioneer. By the third or fourth reading, then in my teens, I didn't mind, except for the heavy-handed last book, appropriately called The Last Battle.
The penultimate book, The Magician's Nephew, is a prequel, and explains why the Professor isn't surprised by the children's tales of Narnia. I think this book works fine as a stand-alone though. And as an advert for Turkish Delight.
C. S. Lewis
Illustrated by Pauline Baynes
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe: A Story for Children
Original price $2.50, purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
B+
This is the best children's book, or indeed any book I own, in almost a decade, the first sign that the 1950s will be better than the 1940s. To begin with, the illustrations are good. It was the sort of Yellow-Submarinish cover art that originally drew me in, but the tiny art for the chapter headings by Baynes, with their surprising amount of detail and characterization, helped keep me going.
There's also the cosiness of the writing. That may seem an odd word to apply to a book where a charming yet evil witch has made it always winter but never Christmas. Lewis has a very chatty style, often addressing the reader as "you," in a much less condescending way than Bronte in Jane Eyre. Also, the descriptions of the homes of Mr. Tumnus and the beavers sound very inviting. Even the description of Rumblebuffin, the good giant, is warm and down to earth.
Of course, this is also a story of battle, where Peter and Edmund must prove themselves in different ways. Lewis says that girls and women fighting in war is an ugly thing, which would be news to Glinda and her army, although Narnia is admittedly a much more violent place than Oz.
As a child raised by an atheist, I remember feeling betrayed when I found out that the Narnia books were Christian parables. I thought that was very sneaky of Lewis, compared to Wilder, who simply was a Christian as part of being a 19th-century pioneer. By the third or fourth reading, then in my teens, I didn't mind, except for the heavy-handed last book, appropriately called The Last Battle.
The penultimate book, The Magician's Nephew, is a prequel, and explains why the Professor isn't surprised by the children's tales of Narnia. I think this book works fine as a stand-alone though. And as an advert for Turkish Delight.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Belles on Their Toes
1950, undated but probably 1950s Thomas Y. Crowell edition
Frank Gilbreth, Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey
Illustrated by Donald McKay
Belles on Their Toes
Original price unknown, purchase price $1.50
Hardcover with stains and broken spine
B
This book picks up right where Cheaper by the Dozen left off, three days after Dad's death. Mother is going to Europe to deliver speeches that Dad was scheduled for, and so Anne is left in charge of the brood, although thrifty Martha is in charge of the budget. So various crises break out, including chicken pox. Although the book takes the family up to nearly the then present, most of it covers the year following Dad's death, as the Gilbreths adjust to life without father.
The dustjacket claims that "it is one of the few sequels that is more entertaining than the original," and it is indeed funnier and more touching. Like Cheaper, it was an immediate success, and this is the 17th printing. The dustjacket refers to Ernestine's "two teen-age children," and since her kids were born in '38 and '42, that gives this a date between '55 and '57, unless the biographical blurbs hadn't been updated. Both authors lived long lives, Frank dying at 89 in 2001, Ernestine at 98 in '06. In fact, all of the dozen except Mary, whose childhood death is mentioned in a footnote early on, and Martha, who died at 59, lived to be at least 77. Fred is still around at 95. And Mother Lillian survived till age 93.
The title refers to the saying (invented by the authors or common at the time I don't know) that belles have to be on their toes to get rings on their fingers. Much of the book is about the struggles the girls go through in dating, particularly since their mother and their late father were so Victorian. A later chapter shows how baby sister Jane's "big brothers" (the four little boys from earlier anecdotes) teach her how to be popular in the mid-1930s, in contrast to Anne's generation. As in the earlier book, the six brothers don't get as much attention, although there is a funny chapter about the clothes they wear when meeting President Hoover. Oh, and there's Frank dressing up as a girl to scare Ern's suitor.
Another thread of the book is Mother's engineering career, and how she combined it with motherhood. When a nosy teacher asks about the career, one of the little boys indignantly says that if she has one, she never showed it to him. There's an acknowledgement of the sexism Mother had to face, but as with all the other problems, it's discussed in a breezy manner. This remains a comedy, despite poignancy.
The family misses Dad, but as a reader I didn't. I'd rather read about Tom, the incompetent but good-hearted cook and "handy" man. At one point, he brews moonshine in the basement (during the Prohibition era) and of course it explodes when an annoying guest is visiting.
McKay's illustrations are again forgettable, except that he seems to think that all (rather than most) of the children were redheads.
This became a movie in 1952, with a mostly new cast, although Myrna Loy as Mother and Jeanne Crain as "Ann" [sic] returned from Cheaper. It's not quite as good, but it does have its moments.
And welcome to the 1950s. We'll be here awhile.
Frank Gilbreth, Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey
Illustrated by Donald McKay
Belles on Their Toes
Original price unknown, purchase price $1.50
Hardcover with stains and broken spine
B
This book picks up right where Cheaper by the Dozen left off, three days after Dad's death. Mother is going to Europe to deliver speeches that Dad was scheduled for, and so Anne is left in charge of the brood, although thrifty Martha is in charge of the budget. So various crises break out, including chicken pox. Although the book takes the family up to nearly the then present, most of it covers the year following Dad's death, as the Gilbreths adjust to life without father.
The dustjacket claims that "it is one of the few sequels that is more entertaining than the original," and it is indeed funnier and more touching. Like Cheaper, it was an immediate success, and this is the 17th printing. The dustjacket refers to Ernestine's "two teen-age children," and since her kids were born in '38 and '42, that gives this a date between '55 and '57, unless the biographical blurbs hadn't been updated. Both authors lived long lives, Frank dying at 89 in 2001, Ernestine at 98 in '06. In fact, all of the dozen except Mary, whose childhood death is mentioned in a footnote early on, and Martha, who died at 59, lived to be at least 77. Fred is still around at 95. And Mother Lillian survived till age 93.
The title refers to the saying (invented by the authors or common at the time I don't know) that belles have to be on their toes to get rings on their fingers. Much of the book is about the struggles the girls go through in dating, particularly since their mother and their late father were so Victorian. A later chapter shows how baby sister Jane's "big brothers" (the four little boys from earlier anecdotes) teach her how to be popular in the mid-1930s, in contrast to Anne's generation. As in the earlier book, the six brothers don't get as much attention, although there is a funny chapter about the clothes they wear when meeting President Hoover. Oh, and there's Frank dressing up as a girl to scare Ern's suitor.
Another thread of the book is Mother's engineering career, and how she combined it with motherhood. When a nosy teacher asks about the career, one of the little boys indignantly says that if she has one, she never showed it to him. There's an acknowledgement of the sexism Mother had to face, but as with all the other problems, it's discussed in a breezy manner. This remains a comedy, despite poignancy.
The family misses Dad, but as a reader I didn't. I'd rather read about Tom, the incompetent but good-hearted cook and "handy" man. At one point, he brews moonshine in the basement (during the Prohibition era) and of course it explodes when an annoying guest is visiting.
McKay's illustrations are again forgettable, except that he seems to think that all (rather than most) of the children were redheads.
This became a movie in 1952, with a mostly new cast, although Myrna Loy as Mother and Jeanne Crain as "Ann" [sic] returned from Cheaper. It's not quite as good, but it does have its moments.
And welcome to the 1950s. We'll be here awhile.
Friday, June 1, 2012
The Shaggy Man of Oz
1949, 1990 International Wizard of Oz edition
Jack Snow
Illustrated by Frank Kramer
The Shaggy Man of Oz
Original and/or purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
B-
This is an improvement over Magical Mimics in every regard. First of all, yes, the illustrations are much better, never reaching Neill's heights, seldom reaching his depths, but thoroughly competent. The writing is better, too, with more interesting places to visit, including the Valley of Romance, where denizens of a castle are forced to put on plays every night. Conjo, the villain, is a bit like old-school Roquat, before he became embittered Ruggedo. The Nomes (yes, we're back to Baum's spelling) have an impact on the story, since Snow forgets that the tunnel in Emerald City was all filled in.
The title character and the other protagonists aren't too memorable though, other than the goshawful names Snow comes up with: Twink and Tom, being the scarcely better nicknames for twins Abbadiah and Zebbidiah; and third-cousin wooden clowns (don't ask) Twiffle and Twoffle. The twins and one of the clowns travel via a television to the Island of Conjo. So, yes, 1949 is the Year of Books Where Televisions Do Amazing Things. (Too bad Colette didn't compare an orchid to a TV.)
Although Snow tried to emulate Baum, I was reminded of Thompson in four ways, three of them to do with Cowardly Lion of Oz. There's an unfunny clown, a car that flies, and a trip to a land in the sky. Also, Snow has a previously untapped potential for unintentional innuendo, with his fairy beavers (that Tom wants to fondle) and the frequent use of "arouse" for "rouse." Nothing like classic Thompson, but more than she managed in Ozoplaning.
Snow wrote Who's Who in Oz (1954), which I've always heard good things about, but this was his last full-length Oz story. He died in 1956, while Thompson lived on for another two decades. As for Oz, well, the next of the Famous Forty isn't too far off. But this is it for my 1940s books. See, I told you we wouldn't be here long.
Jack Snow
Illustrated by Frank Kramer
The Shaggy Man of Oz
Original and/or purchase price unknown
Worn paperback
B-
This is an improvement over Magical Mimics in every regard. First of all, yes, the illustrations are much better, never reaching Neill's heights, seldom reaching his depths, but thoroughly competent. The writing is better, too, with more interesting places to visit, including the Valley of Romance, where denizens of a castle are forced to put on plays every night. Conjo, the villain, is a bit like old-school Roquat, before he became embittered Ruggedo. The Nomes (yes, we're back to Baum's spelling) have an impact on the story, since Snow forgets that the tunnel in Emerald City was all filled in.
The title character and the other protagonists aren't too memorable though, other than the goshawful names Snow comes up with: Twink and Tom, being the scarcely better nicknames for twins Abbadiah and Zebbidiah; and third-cousin wooden clowns (don't ask) Twiffle and Twoffle. The twins and one of the clowns travel via a television to the Island of Conjo. So, yes, 1949 is the Year of Books Where Televisions Do Amazing Things. (Too bad Colette didn't compare an orchid to a TV.)
Although Snow tried to emulate Baum, I was reminded of Thompson in four ways, three of them to do with Cowardly Lion of Oz. There's an unfunny clown, a car that flies, and a trip to a land in the sky. Also, Snow has a previously untapped potential for unintentional innuendo, with his fairy beavers (that Tom wants to fondle) and the frequent use of "arouse" for "rouse." Nothing like classic Thompson, but more than she managed in Ozoplaning.
Snow wrote Who's Who in Oz (1954), which I've always heard good things about, but this was his last full-length Oz story. He died in 1956, while Thompson lived on for another two decades. As for Oz, well, the next of the Famous Forty isn't too far off. But this is it for my 1940s books. See, I told you we wouldn't be here long.
1984
1949, "Commemorative 1984 Edition" from Signet Classic
George Orwell
1984
Possibly bought new for $2.95
Worn paperback
B-
I'm not sure if this is the copy I had in high school, when it was a big deal to read the book in 1984, comparing it to reality. Certainly, there were repressive elements in the world then, including, as Walter Cronkite's Preface points out, in Khomeini's Iran. Eric Fromm's 1961 Afterword observes examples of "doublespeak" in the U.S. I think the Newspeak aspect of the novel is the most interesting, and in some ways the least dated, as language has continued to be abused by various figures of authority, including the makers of bumper stickers. ("Freedom Is Slavery" isn't terribly different from "Freedom Isn't Free," and six decades after Orwell, three decades after Reagan, waging war to create peace is still a common idea.)
If I recall correctly, left-wing writer Alexander Cockburn had two main objections to this novel in 1984. (I can't go check, because I've got his book coming up much later, and I'd rather be wrong than jump ahead.) One was what he called the "silly prole business," the idea that the uneducated, unwashed, but good-hearted proletarians were going to rise up and rebel. Not that Cockburn was being classist, but that the way that Orwell presents the proles was silly. The "hero" Winston Smith thinks that the proles are happy in their simplicity, and there's not much in the novel to indicate otherwise.
Cockburn's other gripe was with how Orwell handles sex. As I noted with Brave New World, the view of sex is very different, not Huxley's treatment of it as a form of control but as a form of rebellion. Smith's girlfriend Julia is a "rebel below the waist." While sex and/or love can be expressions of freedom, they can also be chains that tie people to society. Both Huxley and Orwell are too simplistic, as well as sexist about how they present women, and women's sexuality. This was not Cockburn's complaint, but rather that Orwell was, again, silly in how he wrote, and indeed the romance is a bit far-fetched.
I remember what most terrified me about this book when I read it as a teenager was the idea that you could rebel and then find that the rebellion was being controlled by society. In particular, it was scary that nice old Mr. Charrington and sympathetic O'Brien were agents of the state. Even "Goldstein's" book was written by committee.
As an adult, even in an age when technology and privacy have impacted each other in ways that were unimaginable in the past, even fifteen years ago when I first got into the Internet, I find that freedom is still possible. Yes, your employer (or potential employer) may be snooping into your Facebook. Yes, your bags (or your body) may be searched at the airport. But many people do manage to lead lives of freedom and integrity (in both senses), and we don't have to worry that we will, although it may take years, end up shot in the head for being ourselves. Or even if we are, we'll go ahead and express ourselves anyway.
And then there are the people who think that the computer is watching them like a telescreen.
George Orwell
1984
Possibly bought new for $2.95
Worn paperback
B-
I'm not sure if this is the copy I had in high school, when it was a big deal to read the book in 1984, comparing it to reality. Certainly, there were repressive elements in the world then, including, as Walter Cronkite's Preface points out, in Khomeini's Iran. Eric Fromm's 1961 Afterword observes examples of "doublespeak" in the U.S. I think the Newspeak aspect of the novel is the most interesting, and in some ways the least dated, as language has continued to be abused by various figures of authority, including the makers of bumper stickers. ("Freedom Is Slavery" isn't terribly different from "Freedom Isn't Free," and six decades after Orwell, three decades after Reagan, waging war to create peace is still a common idea.)
If I recall correctly, left-wing writer Alexander Cockburn had two main objections to this novel in 1984. (I can't go check, because I've got his book coming up much later, and I'd rather be wrong than jump ahead.) One was what he called the "silly prole business," the idea that the uneducated, unwashed, but good-hearted proletarians were going to rise up and rebel. Not that Cockburn was being classist, but that the way that Orwell presents the proles was silly. The "hero" Winston Smith thinks that the proles are happy in their simplicity, and there's not much in the novel to indicate otherwise.
Cockburn's other gripe was with how Orwell handles sex. As I noted with Brave New World, the view of sex is very different, not Huxley's treatment of it as a form of control but as a form of rebellion. Smith's girlfriend Julia is a "rebel below the waist." While sex and/or love can be expressions of freedom, they can also be chains that tie people to society. Both Huxley and Orwell are too simplistic, as well as sexist about how they present women, and women's sexuality. This was not Cockburn's complaint, but rather that Orwell was, again, silly in how he wrote, and indeed the romance is a bit far-fetched.
I remember what most terrified me about this book when I read it as a teenager was the idea that you could rebel and then find that the rebellion was being controlled by society. In particular, it was scary that nice old Mr. Charrington and sympathetic O'Brien were agents of the state. Even "Goldstein's" book was written by committee.
As an adult, even in an age when technology and privacy have impacted each other in ways that were unimaginable in the past, even fifteen years ago when I first got into the Internet, I find that freedom is still possible. Yes, your employer (or potential employer) may be snooping into your Facebook. Yes, your bags (or your body) may be searched at the airport. But many people do manage to lead lives of freedom and integrity (in both senses), and we don't have to worry that we will, although it may take years, end up shot in the head for being ourselves. Or even if we are, we'll go ahead and express ourselves anyway.
And then there are the people who think that the computer is watching them like a telescreen.
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