DAVID WIELAND

1984 is by far the most common book people lie about, that they have read it. I finally decided to just get a copy (i was actually pretty curious) and began reading it somewhere last year.

When i was about halfway into the book, i was suddenly struck with a very intense food poisoning. I endured the longest week of my life, mostly in bed or on the can, or kneeling for it: it wasn’t pretty.

When i did not sleep or puke, i read 1984 to pass the time. Because of that, everytime i think about the story i get nauseous.

The story is just so immensely claustrophobic and sad, and my sickness enhanced that, as if i was part of it.

And know what? I’m not even sure if i would feel better about the story if i had read it when i was healthy.