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66 pages 2 hours read

Anthony Burgess

A Clockwork Orange

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1962

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Character Analysis

Alex

Alex (no surname provided or needed) embodies a set of contradictions: He is both protagonist and antihero, both perpetrator and victim, both gleefully amoral in his violent rampages and meticulously inflexible about his personal code of conduct. As much as Alex narrates his story truthfully—he certainly does not withhold describing the scenes of horrific violence and sexual assault—he is also unreliable in the sense that his moral compass is so askew. Rather than experiencing any remorse for his criminality, even for his role in the death of the elderly woman at the Manse, he feels only self-pity and a desire for vengeance toward those who have wronged him. This desire for revenge continues throughout the novel unabated: “‘All who do me wrong,’ I said, ‘are my enemies’” (203). He repeats the phrase for effect, ensuring that the Government Minister and his minions know where Alex stands. While the reader may view him as a perpetrator (as well as a victim of state violence), Alex sees himself only as the victim: of disloyalty from his droogs, neglect by his parents, and overreach by the State.

Yet the author also humanizes Alex, for all his brutal tendencies. First, the reader is given context for his anarchic behavior: Mass media depicts brutality and suffering with alarming regularity, consumer capitalism encourages instant gratification, and unfeeling and detached authorities (the school, the State, the medical establishment) exercise arbitrary control. These authorities unleash their own brand of violence against individuals, violence with which Alex becomes intimately familiar during his stay in Staja and with Dr. Brodsky’s experiment. Second, Alex is belittled and scorned by authorities except for the chaplain at the jail, from P.R. Deltoid, his Post-Corrective Adviser, to police officers, nurses, and doctors. He is routinely demonized and dehumanized by those in positions of power (for all of Alex’s violent behavior and threatening manner, he wields very little actual power). Eventually, he becomes nothing more than a number, 6655321, which symbolizes the completion of his dehumanization. It is also significant that Alex’s prison identification number ends in “21,” which author Burgess claims “is the symbol of human maturity” (vi). This is also why he chose to write exactly 21 chapters of A Clockwork Orange: “What happens in that twenty-first chapter?” Burgess writes. “Briefly, my young thuggish protagonist grows up. He grows bored with violence and recognises that human energy is better expended on creation than destruction” (vii).

Finally, Alex is subjected to a punishment that, the author implies, is far worse than the crimes he commits. He is stripped of free will and the capacity to make his own moral choices—though heretofore his choices have been anything but morally upstanding. While he is in prison, he still insists on his superiority and dehumanizes his fellow inmates, even as he bemoans his own dehumanization: “What a lot they were, I thought, as I stood there by the starry chapel stereo, viddying them all shuffle out going marrrrre and baaaaaa like animals” (93). His sense of superiority is matched or overtaken by the arrogant certainty displayed by Dr. Brodsky and his acolytes: “We are not concerned with motive, with the higher ethics […] we are concerned only with cutting down crime” (145). Alex’s humanity and interiority are thus denied to him.

While the author’s opinions on the final chapter are unequivocal—it is what makes the book an actual novel rather than a simple allegory, he remarks—controversy over its persuasiveness still swirls. For a coming-of-age novel, Alex shows remarkably little growth. The final chapter allegedly shows evidence of impending maturity, yet the author gives us no insight into how or why Alex reaches the conclusion that violence is futile and family life is inherently desirable. The chapter begins with the same violent agenda with which the book begins, and it ends with a plea for the reader to remember “thy Alex that was” (219). He is not ready, even at the very end, to denounce his dastardly deeds or to relinquish his infamous reputation.

Dim

Dim functions as Alex’s foil. Where Alex is fastidious, Dim is messy; where Alex masterminds their criminal activities, Dim follows; where Alex exults in music, Dim guffaws in disrespect. They are nearly diametric opposites, except, of course, when it comes to their love of anarchy and violence. Since the reader witnesses everything through Alex’s perspective, Dim’s character emerges via Alex’s admiration for certain qualities and disdain for others. In the first category, Alex sees Dim as an excellent fighter: “poor old Dim, for all his dimness, was worth three of the others in sheer madness and dirty fighting” (20). In the latter category, Alex is constantly disdainful of Dim’s messy appearance and his lack of manners: “only Dim, like the clowny animal he was, full of the joys-of, but looking all dirtied over and too much von of sweat on him, which was one thing I had against old Dim” (31). Later, Alex makes the egregious mistake of sucker punching Dim when he interrupts the music Alex is enjoying. This, coupled with his underestimation of Dim’s intelligence and capacity for independent thought, leads to Alex’s betrayal and arrest.

Indeed, there are hints of Dim’s true character sprinkled throughout the text. For example, when the droogs are out prowling the streets looking for trouble, Dim is actually looking up at the moon and the stars: “But poor old Dim kept looking up at the stars and planets and the Luna with his rot wide open like a kid who’d never viddied any such thing before” (22). What Alex takes for childlike idiocy might instead be an intelligent interest in things other than the childish violence and instant gratification in which Alex revels. Dim asks, rhetorically, “What’s on them, I wonder. What would be up there on things like that?” (22). This is not only a reference to Dim’s intellectual curiosity—which the other droogs appear to be lacking—but also a nod to the emerging space-oriented programs underway in Russia and America. Dim’s connection to intellectual pursuits is also indicated by his choice of mask donned during their criminal sprees: he wears the mask of some “poet veck called Peebee Shelley” (13). For all his guffawing, Dim might actually harbor the soul of a poet.

Still, Dim is not above exacting revenge on his former tormentor. After Alex is released from prison and Dr. Brodsky’s reckless care, he runs into Dim, who is now a police officer. Dim cannot resist taking advantage of this turn of events—Alex neutered by the experimental treatment; Dim in a position to abuse his power—and beats him savagely alongside his new partner, former nemesis Billyboy. As Dim warns Alex, “Don’t call me Dim no more, either. Officer call me” (172). When Alex takes an ill-advised shot questioning Dim’s ability to read, Dim responds with a physical shot to Alex’s face. The reader does not encounter Dim again after this incident, but one can presume that the once violent droog easily shifts into his new role doling out State-sanctioned violence as a newly minted millicent.

Georgie

Georgie is a different kind of foil to Alex: He aims to replace Alex as the de facto leader of the group at his most ambitious moments. He constantly questions Alex’s assertions of wielding absolute authority. When Alex surprises Dim with the punch at the milkbar, Georgie questions Alex’s justification; when Alex claims Dim needs to learn his place, Georgie asks, “What’s all this about place? This is the first I ever hear about lewdies learning their place” (35). Georgie chafes at Alex’s overbearing manner and arrogant assumption of leadership. Alex’s subsequent dream that night about Georgie turns out to be prescient: “In this sneety he’d got like very much older and very sharp and hard and was govoreeting about discipline and obedience” (42). The next night, Alex gets an inkling of Georgie’s intentions. The three droogs come to meet Alex outside his apartment, and they have obviously been discussing the hierarchy without Alex present. Georgie cuts Alex off immediately when he begins to torment Dim: “‘All right,’” he says, “‘no more picking on Dim, brother. That’s part of the new way’” (59). Alex will no longer have unmitigated control.

Georgie also wants to take their criminal activity to a new level. He is tired of the petty thievery in which the gang typically engages; he wishes to pull off “a mansize crast,” or heist (60). As Alex sees it, “[s]o my dream had told truth, then. Georgie the general saying what we should do and what not do” (60). Alex, again in a spectacular error of judgment, thinks he is humoring Georgie by agreeing to participate in his plan; he bests him in a fight, after all, and believes that he has reasserted his natural claim to leadership. However, the ill-fated heist at the Manse is at least partially a cover for Alex’s droogs to betray him. While Alex is serving time in the State Jail, he learns of Georgie’s death; in Alex’s absence, Georgie does take over the gang, leading them on another potentially high-scoring home invasion. Yet, in what Alex sees as “right and proper and like Fate” (89), Georgie is killed by the homeowner while the others escape. While Dim ends up becoming a police officer and Pete settles down in marriage, Georgie, in his hapless hurry to grow out of adolescent anarchy into “mansize” criminality, seals his tragic end.

Pete

Pete is the least developed character in the gang, though his final appearance in the book impacts Alex significantly. With this, Pete is another example of how each of Alex’s droogs eventually acts as a foil to his antihero. In the opening chapters, Pete is largely quiet, though he does voice his concern about Alex’s summary justice: “‘If the truth is known, Alex,’ Pete says, ‘you shouldn’t have given old Dim that uncalled-for tolchock. I’ll say it once and no more. I say it with all respect, but if it had been me you’d given it to you’d have to answer.’” (35). Unlike Georgie, Pete apparently does not want to assume leadership of the gang, and his style is firm but not overly confrontational. Later, Pete calls for a more egalitarian form of leadership in his characteristically deferential style: “‘No offence Alex,’ said Pete, ‘but we wanted to have things more democratic like. Not like you like saying what to do and what not all the time. But no offence’” (59). Pete agrees with Georgie that Alex should relinquish his iron-fisted style of leadership and treat Dim with respect.

When the reader last sees Pete, he is married and has dropped the angsty, angry adolescent act, along with the accompanying violent criminality and Nadsat lingo. He provides a stark contrast to Alex, who remains mired in that role, his development stalled. Pete knows this immediately based on Alex’s manner of speaking and dress: “It’s little Alex, isn’t it?” he asks (214). The use of “little Alex” confirms what the reader already suspects: Pete has graduated from droog to adult, and he condescends to Alex’s adolescent pretensions exactly as the establishment authorities like P.R. Deltoid once did. The transformation is not lost on Alex, who notes that Pete “was like grown up now, with a grown-up goloss and all” (215). Pete invites Alex over to his apartment in a gesture of sympathy (or even pity) for what Alex has endured. Pete reminds Alex and himself that “of course, you are very young still” (215). The implication is that Pete is not; indeed, his plans for the evening are to drink wine and play board games at a friend’s apartment. The encounter with Pete sends Alex further into his ruminations about the future, and he thinks about what it might look like if he also grew up.

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By Anthony Burgess