shooting an Elephant: By George Orwell

going to have their bit of fun after all. Among the Europeans opinion was divided. These pigs were said to represent. And my whole life, every white man's life in the East, was one long struggle not to be laughed. When I pulled the trigger I did not hear the bang or feel the kick one never does when a shot goes home but I heard the devilish roar of glee that went up from the crowd. (Never tell me, by the way, that the dead look peaceful. And suddenly I realized that I should have to shoot the elephant after all. New Statesman american Immigrants Hitchens, Christopher. "Would he have approved of it? I rounded the hut and saw a man's dead body sprawling in the mud.

"George Orwell Turns 100" ; also "Nineteen Eighty-Four 60 Years Later." Audio files from NPR. Some more women followed, clicking their tongues and exclaiming; evidently there was something that the children ought not to have seen. I marched down the hill, looking and feeling a fool, with the rifle over my shoulder and an ever-growing army of people jostling at my heels. He took not the slightest notice of the crowd's approach. They had not shown much interest in the elephant when he was merely ravaging their homes, but it was different now that he was going to be shot. I looked at the sea of yellow faces above the garish clothes-faces all happy and excited over this bit of fun, all certain that the elephant was going to be shot.

He later wrote, "I had the lonely child's habit of making up stories and holding conversations with imaginary persons, and I think from the very start my literary ambitions were mixed up with the feeling of being isolated and undervalued." One of his first literary. But at that moment I glanced round at the crowd that had followed.

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