The Hearth and the Salamandor

           

                This book terrifies me. I know it was written for a completely different time in American history, but it applies today. As Clarisse says, “No one has time for anyone anymore.” Today, you can’t have a conversation with most people without them checking their phones during the conversation. And the dependency on drugs to sleep is also accurate. Americans pop pills for EVERYTHING. There are anti-depressants to take on top of your anti-depressants. It’s almost as if Bradbury’s fear of what the world may become is indeed happening.  And reading people’s lips while you have thimbles in your ear? Ipod. Most families don’t even eat dinner together, so they certainly don’t sit around all night just to talk. The last time I stayed up and talked to my family was July 2010. The fact that Mildred and Guy can’t remember where they met is just awful.

                The idea that we should all be the same is boring. I don’t want to live in a world where I’m suppose to just have easy pleasure and never be challenged to use my intelligence (intelligence that I have acquired from reading). Beatty says that Clarisse is better off dead, and honestly, I agree. What good could an inquisitive and creative mind like hers gain from a world like this? The depression that consumes this world Bradbury has made is so surprising, yet we’re more or less living in it.