In Search of a Restless Man

George Orwell never stayed in one place for very long. It started when he was young, for even then his mother took her children from home to home (though he could hardly be held responsible for that), and while still a child, unlike some of his middle-class contemporaries, he managed to go to not one but two public schools (Wellington and Eton).

He was fond of lists but he seems never to have written down everywhere he lived. The back of Oliver Lewis’ new book The Orwell Tour makes up for that: places he either lived in or that helped shape him and it still seems surprisingly long, And this isn’t as extensive as it might have been:

Motihari, Henley-on-Thames, Eton, Myanmar, Southwold, Paris, Hayes, Hampstead, Wigan, Wallington, Catalonia, Marrakech, Fitzrovia, Jura and finally, Sutton Courtney.

As far as I know, Orwell never went to the last, though we can still count it as he is certainly there now.

In that far-away land of my mid-twenties, I had a half-formed plan to visit the areas of interest pertaining to Orwell, where he had lived or worked, the offices of Tribune, for instance, which would be easy for a Londoner. The trenches of Huesca, not so much. And the idea of travelling to Barnhill felt like visiting another planet (the great Orwell scholar, Professor Peter Davison, never managed it, to his great regret). Nothing came of it due to indolence, though I did manage Booklover’s Corner in the eighties, when it was a Perfect Pizza take-away.

The question might be asked, why? What is that urge to stand before Booklover’s Corner? Or the various Orwell plaques nearby in Hampstead and across north-west London? London is dotted with blue plaques (which are by no means all blue), especially in the wealthier parts of the city, celebrating either an event, work done on the site or mainly famous residents in the house the plaque is on. Walking down an unfamiliar street, there is the urge to cross if a plaque is over the other side of the road, to see who might have lived there, only to be disappointed to read of an obscure chemist. And sometimes a wonderful surprise, such as the site of the Cato Street Conspiracy or the home of Gus Elen. What is this giving us? Why do we care? I don’t know the answer but I know we all feel it.

Oliver Lewis feels it, certainly, and indolence didn’t stop him from what this book is about, his journeys around the world of Orwell. While reading, one gets the impression that Lewis is already (at nearly thirty) well-travelled. In any case, it is clear he is familiar with India. This helps the book’s tone I feel, as we don’t get stuck in eye-rolling, alarmed culture shocks and that sort of thing. Lewis being comfortable and seasoned allows for the book to move along at a pleasant rate and gives it a lightness with an enjoyable pace. It also gives room to be slightly more than a straight travelogue which, given the subject, wouldn’t do at all. The book needs what Lewis gives it, which is a biography of Orwell and the importance of each place, told chronologically.

Which means we begin in Orwell’s birthplace, Motihari, India. Lewis obviously loves the country but hasn’t much to say about the town, close to the Nepalese border, only that it is hot and dusty. But there is an interesting discussion on father Richard Walmsley Blair’s work out there and the British opium trade more broadly. There are apparently plans for an Orwell museum in Motihari but I suspect this won’t happen anytime soon. There is one for Gandhi, however.

How does Oliver Lewis manage Orwell’s writing career? ‘How the Poor Die’ is discussed in the Paris section; Burmese Days and the state of Burma now; the Spanish trenches with local expert Victor Pardo Lancina and his translator Elena Torralba Albella in Huesca (some of you may know these two, if you’ve ever been on an Orwell Society trip to Spain). So it goes on. Yet for all the colourful imagery of India, Burma and continental Europe, I enjoyed the British sections more. That may seem perverse, and I would agree the description of Hayes is by no means glamorous. but the grey monotony of the London suburb, where Orwell taught, is caught well:

The architecture of the high street was depressing, the surviving Edwardiana offset by obtrusive blocks of concrete and cheap single-storey retail parades housing betting shops and fast-food outlets, bustling on a Sunday afternoon… Among a motley collection of scrappy retail outlets, each with their wares spilling out onto the pavement, there remained the traditional high street banks. Almost all the other British chains seem to have gone.

Contrarily, in Southwold he visits Orwell’s tailor, Denny’s, who are still in business. Orwell visited the store to have his clothing made for Burma just before he made his passage. They still have his measurements recorded.

There are a lot of anecdotes like this throughout the book. I very much enjoyed reading it. Not too many demands are made on the reader, but it is always interesting, often funny and keeps a pace throughout. If you enjoy Orwell and if you enjoy travelogues, you’ll find a lot here to like.

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The Orwell Tour: Travels through the life and work of George Orwell by Oliver Lewis
Icon Books, July 2023, ISBN13: 9781785789618

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Orwell’s London by John Thompson, with photographs by Philippa Scoones (London: Fourth Estate, 1984) is an older book of interest. A US edition appeared in 1985. Thompson and Scoones are useful in identifying the homes from which the Luftwaffe successfully displaced the Orwells several times.