1984 is very straight forward (though undeniably a masterpiece). It tells you what to think, and doesn't venture far from those ideas until the end. You hate Big Brother. It's that simple. In Brave New World, the line is blurred. While Orwell has created a government you love to hate, Huxley's totalitarian society is genuinely likeable. While their ideas are unorthodox by today's standards, these ideas manage to create a world without pain or suffering.

This world is a place you would love to live in. Everyone is happy, industry runs like a finely tuned machine, and all of our world's discomforts have been eliminated. Yet, when we are introduced to Bernard Marx, Helmholtz Watson, and Johnny Savage, things change. It is difficult to know what to think or what Huxley is thinking until the book is over, and even then a very cryptic ending keeps us wondering. In this sense, the novel is superior to 1984.

Also, Huxley has done a much better job of predicting the future (the book was written before 1984 and takes place roughly 580 years after that novel's time period). While some old science fiction clich�s have yet to be replaced by the modern ones, that is to be expected.

Despite these successes, the book has a variety of faults. First, there are places where it is obvious that Huxley was rushing through them simply to get on with things. The savage reservation, John's fish-out-of-water tale, and the concept of the "islands" all seem wasted and thin. The savage reservation is particularly troubling. There are plot holes here with John's mother, the descriptions are too brief, and the chapters don't have the same complexity of the rest of the novel. The ending has the same feeling. It seems tacked on, without substance, and doesn't really say anything meaningful. It is too short, doesn't really relate to the questions in the reader's mind, and makes us dislike the character it deals with (that's how I felt at least).

Huxley just jumps around too much. The characters seem undeveloped because of this. There is an incredible amount of potential for greatness, but the book falls flat of attaining it. I loved this book, but only because I forgave it for many of its faults.

Read this as a companion piece to 1984. They make up for each others' weaknesses.

It's amazing how some writers actually predicted the future. But, one of my favourite instances in books, was when I was reading The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury and he said that the Captain looked up at the blue Martian sky. Well, now we know that the sky isn't blue on Mars. It's pink.

Cheers,
Lost