For several years during my youth, my mind decided that Fahrenheit 451 and Fahrenheit 9/11 were the same thing. That’s probably pretty embarrassing to admit on a literary blog…but in my defense, they’re pretty similar titles and 9/11 was probably first major world disaster I paid attention to in my young life. After years of picking up context clues and realizing that Fahrenheit 451 and Fahrenheit 9/11 were indeed two different artistic entities, I decided it was time to culture myself and read Fahrenheit 451.
This happened last summer when I was visiting my oldest sister while she was living in Holland, Michigan, a.k.a. Rich Retired Old People Town, USA. Needless to say, there wasn’t much to do during the day when my sister was at work unless I hitchhiked to the beach (too shady) or went to one of the seemingly infinite ice cream shops (too fattening). I decided to take advantage of the alone time and read. When I saw Fahrenheit 451 on my sister’s bookshelf, I thought I owed it a read since I didn’t even know what this classic was for many of my formative years. I read it in one sitting.