Sometimes when someone says the word “bad” I think of replacing it with “ungood.” I hear the… Sometimes when someone says the word “bad” I think of replacing it with “ungood.” I hear the phrase “very warm” and think “doubleplusuncold.” I imagine the word “lives” becoming “lifes” and the adverb “well” becoming “goodwise.”

I only read “1984” one time, as a senior in high school, but George Orwell’s masterfully constructed world still invades my brain on a regular basis. His then-futuristic warning about the dangers of a totalitarian government is still relevant today, regardless of the fact that Winston Smith’s London supposedly existed 21 years ago. And things like Newspeak, the language created by the oppressive, brainwashing government or “Party” of London, shoot into my mind at frequent, unexpected moments.

I can’t think of an explanation for this, other than the fact that Orwell fascinates me. Last summer, in the midst of a “1984” reverie, I bought a book of his essays, fiction and reportage. It contains excerpts from some of his longer pieces, such as “Down and Out in Paris and London” and “The Road to Wigan Pier,” as well as some of his shorter stories and essays like “Shooting an Elephant” and “Politics and the English Language.”

There’s something about the man’s writing that captivates me. I haven’t pinned it down completely, but I think it has something to do with the way he overtly, yet eloquently, inserts his politics into his work, and the way he can describe a scene so you feel not only like you’re there, but like you’re part of the place’s emotional climate. He writes with direct authority, but in a quiet, sly sort of way that allows you to access his perspective through his careful language choice.

It was only after I read some of this anthology that I understood how powerful a writer Orwell was, and therefore why “1984” had been stuck in my brain for three years.

I mean, the man not only created a believable and frightening world where the totalitarian government can watch your every move, but he even devised a new language scheme for that world! In my book of excerpts I found a snippet from “1984,” which included the appendix on Newspeak, explaining all the various rules of the language — which words were omitted from the Newspeak dictionary by the Party, which were altered so that only one form was needed for noun and verb constructions, etc.

Just two paragraphs into the appendix and I was hooked again, remembering how I curled up in my bedroom with the book for hours, reading past the daily assignments because I was so enthralled with Orwell’s London. However, I couldn’t bring myself to read the actual excerpt from the novel.

It may sound strange, but I worry if I re-read the book, it will lose its mystique. It would be like watching a movie you first saw five years ago, that you remembered being the best movie ever, and then realizing that, in your perspective today, it’s actually corny or trite. I’m afraid that “1984” will become just another book to me; that Newspeak, the Two Minutes Hate, O’Brien, and Emmanuel Goldstein will no longer be iconic landmarks in fiction, but ordinary components of a mundane novel.

I’m protecting my ideal. As much as I love “1984” now, I don’t want to love it less because I became too greedy and had to read it again. If it fell from my favor because of that, for whatever reason, the daily references to Big Brother wouldn’t be a source of smug pride for me, but a feeling of self-loathing and disappointment.

Feeling a little intruded upon because of the nation’s new security measures — Big Brother is watching you! Your professor creeps around the room during an exam, eagle-eying everyone so that no one can cheat — Big Brother is watching you! Feeling guilty for eating that whole tub of Ben ‘ Jerry’s — Big Brother is watching you!

Ok, so maybe not that last one, but you get the point. I would cringe, not smile, at references to my fallen-from-grace favorite.

To that end, I will just have to continue allowing my mind to wander in the middle of classroom discussions when someone says “bad” and I have the urge to replace it with “ungood.” I will continue to have distant memories of scenes in Winston’s run-down apartment where the Telescreens eyeball him as I watch news of US security on TV.

In this case, it would not be better to have loved and lost.

Maybe you shouldn’t e-mail Erin at [email protected], Big Brother might be monitoring your computer.