Fahrenheit 451
Part 3: Burning Bright
Pages 107-158
Discussion Questions
1. What does Beatty mean when he says to Montag, “Old Montag
wanted to fly near the sun and now that he’s burnt his…wings,
he wonders why”? (p. 107)
Beatty, who has demonstrated his extensive literary knowledge,
is referring to the Greek myth about Icarus, son of the inventor
Dedalus. Icarus attempted to fly with wax wings. This myth has
traditionally been interpreted to communicate the perils of
ambition and pride in one’s intelligence.
2. What is the significance of the fact that Montag burns his
bedroom first? How does burning his own house bring Montag a
degree of satisfaction? (p. 110)
Montag burns the beds, cosmetics chest, and walls in his
bedroom first because he “wanted to change everything…that
showed he had lived here in this empty house with a strange
woman who would forget him tomorrow, who had gone and
quite forgotten him already”. (p. 110) Their bedroom likely
reminded Montag of his loveless marriage, and the cosmetics
chest likely reminded him of Mildred’s artificiality. Burning in
his own house was almost therapeutic for Montag. He takes
great pleasure in burning the “great idiot monsters” (p. 110), the
parlor screens to which Mildred dedicated her life.
3. Of what is Montag still afraid after he kills Beatty and subdues
the other two firemen? How does he rid himself of this final
threat? (p. 114)
Montag is afraid of the Mechanical Hound, which he knows is
still at large nearby. The Hound appears quickly, and with its
procaine needle “tooth,” advances on Montag to kill him.
However, Montag uses the flamethrower to “burst its metal
bones at the joints, and (blow) out its interior in a single flushing
of red color like a skyrocket fastened to the street” (p. 114)
4. Do you agree with Montag that Beatty wanted to die? (answers
will vary, reread p. 87, 113, 116).
Beatty is a complex character. As someone with great
knowledge of literature, Beatty may have felt ambivalent about
continuing to burn books. Notice the delight he takes in quoting
literature in front of Montag—this may have reawakened his
love for literature and stirred up repressed doubts about his
life’s purpose. Even Faber suspects that Beatty may have
secretly sympathized with their cause: “He could be one of us.
God knows” (p. 87). Beatty doesn’t try to run away when sees
Montag’s fingers twitch on the safety catch of the flamethrower;
instead, he deliberately quotes lines of poetry that he knows will
provoke Montag and taunts him to pull the trigger. On the other
hand, to assuage his own guilt, Montag may only want to believe
that Beatty wanted to die.
5. How does Montag relate to nature once he is thrust into it? (p.
133)
Though his recent reading has made him idealize nature,
Montag’s first actual experience in nature is eye-opening: “He
was moving from an unreality that was frightening into a reality
that was unreal because it was new” (p. 133). The river is cold,
and the stars threaten to “crush him.” (p. 133). Viewing the
moon, Montag struggles to remember grade-school explanations
of celestial bodies. Memories of a childhood visit to a farm
trigger a pastoral fantasy about sleeping in a barn, but when
Montag leave the “comforting” river, the wilderness seems
violent and disturbing. He even mistakes a deer for the
Mechanical Hound. He has been so isolated from natural
sensory experiences that the smells and sights of the
countryside almost overwhelm him. When he reaches the hobo
camp, he is surprised to find that fire can be warm and
comforting.
6. Why is Montag mesmerized by the conversation he overhears as
he hides in the woods observing the hobos around the fires? (p.
140) How does this connect back to Clarisse? (p. 28)
Montag is not used to hearing real conversation take place.
Earlier in the novel, Montag is baffled that Clarisse and her
family sit and talk to each other for entertainment. Clarisse aptly
describes the type of conversation Montag is used to: “People
don’t talk about anything…They name a lot of cars or clothes or
swimming pools mostly and say how swell! But they all say the
same things and nobody says anything different from anyone
else” (p. 28). In contrast, the voices Montage hears around the
campfire “talked of everything, there was nothing they could not
talk about” (p.1 40). In the wilderness, Montag is reacting not so
much on the men’s words but to the “very cadence and motion
and continual stir of curiosity and wonder in them? (p. 140)
7. Explain the hobo’s reasoning for memorizing famous works
rather than carrying actual copies. (p. 145)
The misfit band explains to Montag what he has come to
realize—that the knowledge books contain, not the books
themselves, is precious. Books are illegal objects, and if any of
the hobos were found to have printed microfilm copies with
them, they would be arrested. By memorizing the material
contained in books, the hobos are able to retain the knowledge
legally and in such a way that it can never be stripped from
them. Repeating the contents of the books gave them a better
understanding of what they are reading.
8. Describe the many “deaths” of Mildred. Why do you think
Montag feels conflicted about Mildred at different times in the
novel? (p. 152)
Mildred’s first “death” is when she ceases to be the person
Montag married. The reader knows this Mildred—the Mildred
Montag met Chicago many years prior. There is a perceived
“death” of the Mildred Montag knew in the novel—the Mildred
obsessed with parlor walls and “family,” but who still cared
about her husband—when Montag discovers she reported him
to the authorities for possessing books. At that moment,
Montag realizes Mildred really does not care for him anymore, if
she ever did. When Montag witnesses the bombs hit the city, he
knows that Mildred is, in all likelihood, actually dead. Mildred is
portrayed as a victim of her society and a burden on Montag.
Montag loves the idea of his wife Mildred, just not the actual
person. Early in the novel, Montag knows he will not cry if
Mildred died. However, at the end of the novel when the city is
annihilated, Montag feels sorry for Mildred, picturing her seeing
her own “wildly empty face, all by itself in the room, touching
nothing, starved and eating of itself” (p. 152)