good morning guys today is Tuesday and we're going to begin Fahrenheit 451 if you open up the PDF to the novel and start at the very beginning here for part 1 on page 1 that's where you're going to follow along feel free to pause anywhere along the way if you need to jot down notes on the reading guide or answer a question and then go ahead and resume back to it during my reading of this novel I'm going to be reading just kind of broke up each one of these parts into a few sections so for part 1 I've broken it into quarters essentially and so we're gonna read about 10 pages or so today I'm gonna stop along the way to provide a little commentary as I would in class and then each day will kind of progress from there ok so we're gonna start with part 1 of Fahrenheit 451 today this is a book that was published in 1953 by Ray Bradbury his his most famous work by far Ray Bradbury a local kid done good he is actually from Waukegan Illinois so probably one of the most famous people from the Lake County area just another cool little piece about Ray Bradbury alright so part one is the hearth and the salamander a hearth is like what we associated with like a fireplace of a home kind of like the place that the central meeting place in a living room and a salamander you guys are familiar with um little little lizards okay but this one's called the hearth in the salamander and this begins here on page 1 it was a pleasure to burn it was a special pleasure to see things even to see things blackened and changed with the brass nozzle and his fists with this great Python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world the blood found it in his head his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning too on the tatters and charcoal ruins of history with his symbolic helmet numbered four five one on his stop at head in his eyes all orange flame with the thought of what came next he flicked the igniter and the house jumped up in a gorging fire that burned the evening sky red and yellow and black he strode in a swarm of fireflies he wanted above all like the old joke to shove a marshmallow on a stick in the furnace while the flapping pigeon wing books died on the porch the lawn of the house while the books went up in sparkling whirls and blew away on the wind turned dark with burning Montag grinned the fierce grin of all men singed and driven back by a flame he knew that when he returned to the firehouse he might wink at himself a minstrel man burnt corked in the mirror later going to sleep he would feel the fiery smile still gripped by his face muscles in the dark never went away that smile that never ever went away as long as he remembered ok so just real quick here with Montague a couple of things want to point out about Ray Bradbury and the way he's writing this you'll notice a lot of figurative languages so that's one of the things we'll stop and talk about here a lot of figurative language with Ray Bradbury in his writing it's on every single page the similes the metaphor is the personification he takes things and always is comparing them to something else to create images the first thing here is this description of a Montague our main character here and he's starting a fire it was a pleasure to burn in his way he's turning things on fire on the bottom right here of the first page he wanted he wanted to set things on fire while the flapping pigeon winged books died on the porch so this idea of setting books on fire like birds that were set on fire flapping around as throwing a book the pages of it kind of flapping like the wings of a bird so again for some of this figurative language in here this is the way he's kind of comparing things if you aren't paying attention you might have thought he's killing birds in reality he's just setting books on fire here on the first page he hung up his black beetle colored helmet and shined it he hung his flame proof jacket neatly he showered luxuriously and then whistling hands and pockets walked across the upper floor of the fire station and fell down the hole at the last moment when disaster seemed positive he pulled his hands from his pockets and broke his fall by grasping the golden pole he slid to a squeaking halt the heels one inch from the concrete floor downstairs it's pretty smooth he walked out of the fire station along the midnight street toward the subway where the silent air propelled train slid soundless lay down it's lubricated flue in the earth let him out with a great puff of warm air onto the green tiled escalator rising to the suburb whistling he let the escalator waft him into the still night air he walked toward the corner thinking little at all about nothing in particular before he reached the corner however he slowed as if a wind had sprung up from nowhere as if someone had called his name the last few nights he had had the most uncertain feelings about the sidewalks just around the corner here moving in the starlight towards his house he had felt that a movement a moment prior to his making the turn someone had been there the air seemed charged with a special calm as if someone had waited there quietly in only a moment before he came simply turned to a shadow and let him through perhaps his nose detected a faint perfume perhaps the skin on the backs of his hands on his face felt the temperature rise at this one spot where persons standing might raise the immediate atmosphere 10 degrees for an instant there was no understanding it each time he made the turn he saw only the white unused buckling sidewalk with perhaps on one night something vanishing swiftly across a lawn before he could focus his eyes or speak but now tonight he slowed almost to a stop his inner mind reaching out to turn the corner for him had heard the faintest whisper breathing or was the atmosphere compressed merely by someone standing very quietly there waiting he turned the corner the autumn leaves blew over the moonlit pavement in such a way as to make the girl who was moving there seemed fixed to a sliding walk letting the motion of the wind and leaves carry her forward her head was half bent to watch her shoes stir the circling leaves her face was slender and milk-white and in it was a kind of gentle hunger that touched over everything with tireless curiosity it was a look almost of pale surprise the dark eyes were so fixed to the world that no move escaped them her dress was white and it whispered he almost thought he heard the motion of her hands as she walked the infinitely small sound now the white stir of her face turning when she discovered she was a moment away from a man who stood in the middle of the pavement waiting all right so a couple of things here real quick Clarice here who will learn that's her name here in a moment there's a girl waiting here on the sidewalk right around the corner from him the way she's described is almost kind of like a ghost ship fairy describes very pale very slender milk-white or their clothing is light-colored everything is like very almost like spirit like so that's something to note because it's a lot large contrast to our main character here and the way he's described as he's setting things on fire and the way he acts and behaves is just a very big contrast so far in their descriptions early up the trees overhead made a great sound of letting down their dry rain the girl stopped and looked as if she might pull back and surprise but instead stood regarding Montague I so dark and shining and alive that he felt that he had said something quite wonderful but he knew his mouth had only moved to say hello and then when she seemed hypnotized by the salamander on his arm and the Phoenix disc on his chest he spoke again of course he said you're our new neighbour aren't you and you must be she raised her eyes from his professional symbols the fireman her voice trailed off how oddly you say that I I'd have known it with my eyes shut she said slowly what the smell of kerosene my wife always complains she laughed it never washed it off completely no you don't she said in awe he felt she was walking in a circle about him turning him and for n shaking him quietly and emptying his pockets without once moving herself kerosene he said because the silence had length it is nothing but perfume to me does it seem like that really of course why not she gave herself time to think of it I don't know she turned to face the sidewalk going toward their homes do you mind if I walk back with you I'm Clarice McLellan Clarice Guy Montag come along what are you doing out so late wandering around how old it they walked in the warm cool blowing night on the silvered pavement and there was a faintest breath of fresh apricots and strawberries in the air and he looked around and realized that this was quite impossible so late in here there was only the girl walking with him now the face bright as snow in the moonlight and he knew she was working his questions around seeking the best answer she could possibly give well she said I'm 17 and I'm crazy my uncle says that two always go together when people ask your age he said always say 17 men seyn isn't this a nice time of night to walk I like to smell things and look at things and sometimes stay up all night walking and watch the sunrise they walked on again in silence and finally she said thoughtfully you know I'm not afraid of you at all he was surprised why should you be as so many people are afraid of firemen I mean but you're just a man after all he saw himself in her eyes suspended in two shining drops of bright water himself dark and tiny in fine detail the lines about his mouth everything there as if her eyes were too miraculous bits of violet amber that might capture and hold him in tact her face turned to him now was fragile milk crystal with a soft and constant light in it it was not the hysterical light of electricity but what but the strangely comfortable and rare and gently flattering light of a candle one time as a child in a power failure his mother had found and lit a last candle and there had been a brief hour of rediscovery of such illumination that space lost its vast dimensions and drew comfortably around them and they mother and son alone transformed hoping that the power might not come on again too soon so one of the things also to note here with Clarice is she sent something to gai she says you know I'm not afraid of you at all which is an interesting thing to say to a fireman right she mentions here well so many people are afraid of firemen but you're just a man so there's this this I don't know this idea that's being tossed out early on in the book that firemen are scary that people are scared of them but she isn't she's not she just looks at him as just a regular guy and he notices that it's really kind of strange that she's out late at night that this isn't a normal thing to do that's one of the first things he asked what are you doing out here so and then Clarisse McClellan said - mind if I ask how long you've worked at being a fireman since I was twenty ten years ago do you ever read any of the books you burn he laughed that's against the law oh of course it's fine work Monday burn Millay Wednesday Whitman Friday Faulkner burn him to ashes then burn the ashes that's our official slogan they walk still farther the girl said is it true that long ago firemen put fires out instead of going to start them no houses have always been fireproof take my word for it strange I heard once that a long time ago houses used to burn by accident and they need a fireman to stop the flames he laughed she glanced quickly over why are you laughing I don't know he started to laugh again and stopped why you laugh when I haven't been funny and you answer right off you never stop to think what I've asked you he stopped walking you are an odd one he said looking at her haven't you any respect I don't mean to be insulting it's just I love to watch people too much I guess well doesn't this mean anything to you he tapped the numerals four or five one stitched on his char colored sleeve yes she whispered she creased her pace have you ever watched the jet cars racing on the boulevards down that way you're changing the subject I sometimes think drivers don't know what grasses are flowers because they never see them slowly she said if you showed a driver of green blur oh yes he'd say that's grass a paint blur that's a rose garden white blurs or houses brown blurs or cows my uncle drove slowly on a highway once he drove 40 miles an hour and they jailed him for two days isn't that funny and sad to think too many things said by tag on easily so a couple of things here again about our character some of the noticeable differences one of the last things that's mentioned here is that she is asking a lot of questions we'll notice then about her character is that she's very inquisitive she asks a lot of questions thinks about a lot of things and maaan takes the opposite she points it out he answers without thinking these things and in fact he notices you think too many things it's kind of strange how much he thinks about stuff you'll also start to notice some differences in this society in this dystopian society this version of America is what we have here that's oftentimes the case with a dystopian novel you get a version of America and some things are going to be noticeably different than ours the first thing that's mentioned here that's noticeably different as Clarice is asking a question about a fireman and so there's a difference in this society about fireman the way they are in our society versus how they are in this society another thing is you learn a little bit about what what it's like to drive on the highway in this society people have to go so fast in fact her uncle once drove on a highway at 40 miles an hour and he got jailed for two days so things are a little different pay attention to some of those differences okay we'll talk a little bit more about that later on you think too many things said Montag uneasily I really watch the parlor walls or go to races or fun parks so I have a lot of time for crazy thoughts I guess have you seen the 200 footlong billboards in the country beyond town did you know that once billboards were only 20 feet long but cars rushed by so quickly they had to stretch the advertising so that would last I didn't know that Montag laughed abruptly but I know something else you don't know there's dew on the grass in the morning he suddenly could remember if he hadn't known this not and it made of quite irritable and if you look she nodded at this guy there's a man the moon he hadn't looked for a long time they want the rest of the way in silence hers thoughtful his kind of clenching and uncomfortable silence in which he shot her accusing glances when they reached her house all the lights were blazing what's going on Montag had really seen that many house lights oh just my mother and father and uncles sitting around talking it's like being a pedestrian only rarer my uncle was arrested another time did I tell you for being a pedestrian oh we're most peculiar so again another difference here being a pedestrian just walking around is peculiar and strange notice that Montag makes questions of clarice what's going on in your house all the lights are on here at night nothing there just stop talking he's like what you get the sense that what Clarice does and who her family is is definitely different than people like Montag but what do you talk about she laughed at this good night she started up her walk and then she seemed to remember something and came back to look at him with wonder and curiosity are you happy she said am i what he cried but she was gone running in the moonlight her front door shut gently happy of all the nonsense he stopped laughing he put his hands into the glove hole of his front door and let it know his touch the front door slid open of course I'm happy what does she think I'm not he asked the quiet rooms he stood looking up at the ventilator Grill in the hall and suddenly remembered that something lay hidden behind the grill something that seemed to peered down at him now he moved his eyes quickly away what a strange meeting on a strange night he remembered nothing like it saved one afternoon a year ago had met an old man in the park and they had talked Montag shook his head he looked at a blank wall the girl's face was there really quite beautiful a memory astonishing in fact she had a very thin face like the dial of a small clock seen faintly in a dark room in the middle of a night when you wakened to see the time and see the clock telling you the hour and the minute the second with a white silence and a glow and all certainty and knowing what it had to tell of the night passing swiftly on hoarded further darkness but moving also toward a new Sun what asked Montag of that other self the subconscious idiot that ran babbling at times quite independent of will habit and conscience he glanced back at the wall how like a meter to her face impossible for how many people did you know who refracted your own light to you people armed often he searched for a simile and found one in his work torches blazing away until they whipped out how rarely did other people's faces take of you and throw back to you your own expression your own innermost trembling font what incredible power of identification the girl had she was like the eager watcher of a marionette show anticipating each flicker of an eyelid each gesture of his hand each flick of a finger the moment before it began how long had they walked together three minutes five yet how large that time seemed now how immense a figure she was on the stage before him what a shadow she threw on the wall with her slender body he felt that if his I itch she might blink and if the muscles of his jaw stretch imperceptibly she would yawn long before he would why he thought now that I think of it she almost seemed to be waiting for me there in the streets so damn late he opened the bedroom door it was like coming into the cold marbled room of a mausoleum after the moon has set the complete darkness not a hint of the silver world outside the windows tightly shut the chamber a tomb world or no sound from the great city could penetrate the room was not empty he listened the little mosquito delicate dancing hum in the air the electrical murmur of a hidden wasp snug in a special pink warm nest the music was almost loud enough so he could follow the tune so there's a description here as he walks into the room is completely cold and dark that's what his house is described as cold dark it's like a tomb like a mausoleum so a lot of death images in that description there his home seems very different dark and cold compared to Clarice's which is you know lit up and there's people inside of it but he says he's not alone he could hear something here there's this hidden wasp snug in a special pink warm nest the music was almost loud enough he could follow the tune that description there that that that metaphor of a hidden wasp is actually of what we would consider a modern-day earbuds Ray Bradbury was on the front end of this here in 1950 this this idea that somebody could put something in here we're gonna see him references other things as well but to listen to music how many of you actually go to bed listening in music at night that's what he hears is this delicate hum and it's coming from his wife's bed she's listening to music late at night he felt his smile slide away melt and fold over down on itself like a tallow skinned like the stuff of a fantastic candle burning too long and now collapsing and now blown out darkness he was not happy he was not happy he said the words to himself he recognized this as the true state of affairs he wore his happiness like a mask and the girl had run off across the lawn with the mask and there was no way of going to knock on her door and asked for it back without turning on the light he imagined how this room would look his right wife stretched on the bed uncovered and cold like a body displayed on the lid of a tomb her eyes fixed to the ceiling by invisible threads of Steel immovable and in her ears the little seashells the thimble radios tamp tight an electronic ocean of sound of music and talk and music and talk coming in coming in on the shore of her unsleeping mind the room was indeed empty every night the waves came in and bore her off on their great tides of sound floating her wide-eyed toward morning there had been no night in the last two years that Mildred had not swung that sea and not gladly gone down in it for the third time the room was cold but nonetheless he felt that he could not breathe he did not wish to open the drapes and open the French windows for he did not want the moon to come into the room so with the feeling of a man who will die in the next hour for lack of air he felt his way toward his open separate and therefore cold bed in instant before his foot hit the object on the floor he knew he would hit such an object it was not unlike the feeling he had experienced before turning the corner and almost knocking the girl down his foot sending vibrations ahead received back echoes of the small barrier across its path even as the foot swung his foot kicked the object gave a dull clink it slid off in the darkness he stood very straight and listened to the person on the dark bed in the completely featureless night the breath coming out of the nostrils was so faint it stirred only the farthest fringes of life a small leaf a black feather a single fibre of hair he still did not one outside light he pulled out his igniter felt the salamander itched on its silver disc and gave it a flick to moonstones looked up at him in the light of a small handheld fire two pale moon stones buried in a creek of clear water over which the life of the war ran not touching them Mildred her face was like a snow-covered island upon which rain might fall but it felt no rain over which clouds might pass their moving shadows but she fell too no shadow there was only the singing of the thimble wasps in her tamped shut ears and her eyes all glass and breath going in and out softly faintly in and out of her nostrils and her not caring whether it came or went or winter came the object he had sent tumbling with his foot now glinted under the edge of his own bed the small crystal bottle of sleeping tablets which earlier today had been filled with 30 capsules in which now lay uncapped and empty in the light of the tiny flare as he stood there the sky over the house screamed there was a tremendous ripping sound as if two giant hands had torn ten thousand miles of black lines down the seam Montague was cut in half he felt his chest chopped down and split apart the jet bombers going over going over going over one two one two one two six of them nine of them twelve of them one and one in one and another and another and another did all the screaming for him he opened his own mouth and let their shriek come down and out between his bared teeth how shook the flare went out of his hands the moon stones vanished he felt his hand plunged toward the telephone the Jets were gone he felt his lips move brushing the mouthpiece of the phone emergency hospital terrible whisper he felt that the stars had been pulverized by the sound of the black Jets and that in the morning the earth would be covered with their dust like a strange snow that was his idiot thought as he stood shivering in the dark and let his lips go on moving and moving ok so that's where we're going to stop for today a couple of things there at the end are really important as he walking into his room and it's cold and it's dark a couple of things to know he also has his own separate bed what tells you a little bit about his relationship with his wife maybe Clarisse was on to something are you happy and it isn't until he's walking in his house that had dawns in him he's not happy he actually isn't happy and we find out perhaps a little bit as to why when he gets inside his room and comes across his wife he notices he hears the sound and he kicks that bottle of sleeping tablets that's now empty and there's a panic in him he says her name there Mildred but she doesn't hear him she's not acknowledging so we get the idea that perhaps she's overdosed here and as he's about to call notice this is something else that's gonna stand out here there's these Jets that are flying over the sky this is late at night as he's getting ready to go to bed there's jets flying over the sky that just ripped the sky in half in the description that's used there and so they're perhapses is something of note there with the planes like what's going on with that why are there so many planes up at night think about how that would be if that's something you experienced before you went to bed at night okay so that's a good stopping point go ahead and take down some notes I answer some of your questions in your reading guy tomorrow get back to the story have a good day