Written in the 1930s this slim volume
relates the young Orwell’s personal experience of extreme poverty in the two
cities.
In Paris, out of money, he eventually
secures a position as a ‘plongeur’, the lowest rated menial in a hotel or
restaurant. This provides a pitiful income in exchange for long hours in the
stifling heat of the kitchens with the valuable compensation of access to food.
His fellow workers provide a treasury of tales of false hopes and ruined
dreams. His income pays his rent and no more.
He returns to London on the promise of a job
but when it is delayed he is forced to spend a month penniless in the capital.
He joins the ranks of the itinerant tramps, kept moving by the vagrancy laws
from ‘spike’ to ‘spike’ (a casual ward of the workhouse). From the old hands he
learns survival techniques, which spikes are best, and the alternatives to
institutional dormitories such as the accurately named two-penny hangover.
Orwell’s writing is clear, concise and is
all the more affecting for being un-emotional. In the main he just reports the
facts, reserving judgement to a couple of chapters where he sums up his
personal opinions and offers simple if unconventional ideas to improve matters.
Is it of relevance today, or is it just of
historic interest? It may be possible to judge if much has changed after
reading the reputed modern equivalent - A Street Cat Named Bob. As a historic
document its personal testimony delivered with a light touch makes it both
informative and very readable.
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