If you want to know what Bradbury really thinks
about a society where entertainment is king
and no one thinks for themselves, well, just
check out his second symbol.
Up next, I've got sixty seconds on ... blood.
Blood, that life-giving fluid, is symbolic
of something bigger than, well, life, in Farenheit
451.
It's more like a representation of the inner
self or the characters' repressed souls—and
the way the inner self is poisoned and lost
in a society like the one Bradbury has created.
Take it from Montag's wife, Mildred, who has
to have her blood replaced within the first
fifteen pages of the story.
She overdoses on pills, and to save her, Montag
has to call in some guys with a weird machine
that pumps all the blood out of her body and
replaces it with fresh blood.
You'd think having your blood replaced would
change you, but Mildred's apparently soul-less.
Having new blood, blood that's not even her
own, doesn't seem to phase her; the next day,
it's as though nothing has happened.
And the fact that Mildred's blood is so easily
replaced shows its significance: Mildred's
inner self is too far gone, too far corrupted
by society to be rejuvenated.
She's essentially a machine—lifeless and
soulless, like virtually everyone else in
Bradbury's twisted, thought-free world.
