Did you know that George Orwell once worked as a propagandist?
In 1984, Orwell famously satirized government propaganda, but during World War II, his role
with the BBC Empire Service involved creating and supervising programming that the nation
would feed to Indian networks to encourage a pro-Allies sentiment and spark volunteering.
Perhaps this firsthand experience in manipulating the public informed Orwell’s Big Brother.
Hi, I’m Erin McCarthy, and this is a little bonus episode of The List Show to celebrate
the publication of a new book from the Mental Floss team called The Curious Reader.
If you love books, we think you’ll enjoy it—there’s a link down in the description
if you want to learn more.
Today, I’m sharing just a few of our favorite facts about books and authors, from F. Scott
Fitzgerald’s off-beat suggestions for leftover turkey to some stories behind our favorite
novels.
Let’s get started.
Orwell wasn’t the only writer to pursue a different line of work before achieving
literary success.
Nobel Prize-winning author Kazuo Ishiguro tried to make it as a musician and once worked
as a “grouse beater” for the Queen Mother at Balmoral, helping aristocrats and their
guests during grouse-shooting season.
Ishiguro eventually published contemporary classics like Never Let Me Go and The Remains
of the Day, but his tragically short-lived career in the field of grouse-beating will
leave future generations wondering what might have been.
George Orwell, by the way, had a teacher at England’s esteemed Eton boarding school
you might be familiar with: Brave New World author Aldous Huxley.
Speaking of unlikely author intersections: Ray Bradbury got an early break in his career
when a fellow writer noticed his short story, “Homecoming,” in the unsolicited materials
pile at Mademoiselle magazine.
The magazine chose to run the piece, and Bradbury won a place in the O. Henry Prize Stories
as the writer of one of the best short stories of 1947.
The Mademoiselle writer who helped open the door for Bradbury?
Truman Capote.
Capote’s relationship with Harper Lee is much more well-documented, but if we imagine
a hypothetical literary dinner party, what would Lee bring?
It could be crackling bread, a mix of cornmeal and cracklings, of which she once said, “Some
historians say this recipe alone fell the Confederacy.”
Her recipe for the dish begins on a challenging note: “First, catch your pig.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald was even more off-kilter in his culinary inclinations.
In his private papers, he listed thirteen uses for leftover Thanksgiving turkey, including
a vermouth bird cocktail, a side of monkey meat, and dishes stuffed with mothballs, stewed
in washing machines, and blown up with bicycle pumps.
It can sometimes be difficult to sort William Faulkner’s own personal mythology from facts.
The novelist, who was a high school and college dropout, claimed he wrote As I Lay Dying in
just six weeks while working at a Mississippi power plant.
(His earlier novels, while well-regarded, did not provide much in the way of royalties.)
Faulkner said that he wrote from midnight until four in the morning while at the plant.
The book was composed on a wheelbarrow that he turned into a table.
Forget writing seminal Southern Gothic novels: that’s ingenuity.
Today, Catch-22 has become a common idiom in English, but if it wasn’t for a Rat Pack
film we might refer to being stuck between a rock and a hard place as a Catch-11.
Joseph Heller considered that as a title for his book, but it was deemed too similar to
the contemporary film Ocean’s 11.
Heller also considered Catch-18 and Catch-14.
That last one was nixed because Heller’s editor didn’t think it was funny enough.
On the subject of literary switcheroos, you don’t have to have read Marcel Proust’s
In Search of Lost Time to know that an evocative madeleine plays a central role in unlocking
the narrator’s memories.
In 2015, newly published handwritten manuscripts revealed that Proust initially had his narrator
eat a slice of toast with honey.
It’s hard to imagine that Proust could have described toast as poetically as he eventually
rendered the madeleine, “the little scallop-shell of pastry, so richly sensual under its severe,
religious folds.”
When it comes to memorable sentences, it’s hard to surpass Ralph Ellison’s opening
line from his most famous novel: “I am an invisible man.”
Interestingly, Ellison later recalled that he typed the sentence almost spontaneously,
without having any additional idea of where he was going or what it meant.
Let’s wrap up with some literary inspiration.
Before she went on to pen some of the most beloved fantasy and science-fiction books
in the English language, Octavia Butler wrote herself a motivational note: “I am a Bestselling
Writer.
I write Bestselling Books … So Be It!
See To It.”
At the risk of being totally cheesy, I’d love to see your own motivational notes in
the comments.
I think we could all use as much positivity as we can find these days, even if we aren’t
gonna write Kindred or The Parable of the Sower.
Remember to check out The Curious Reader if you’re, well, curious, and subscribe to
Mental Floss for new videos every week.
Thanks for watching!