AN: How did Beatty become the man he was in Fahrenheit 451? I had to answer this question for my Honors English 1 class, and this is what I came up with.
Disclaimer: I don't own Beatty, Ray Bradbury does. I made up his first name, though. I do, however, own Amanda.
The year was 1970, two years since John Beatty married Amanda. John had initially been attracted to her not because of her bleached blond hair or her sticklike figure, but because he saw a light of curiosity and intelligence in her eyes that many others in the world seemed to lack. As time passed and as Amanda spent more and more time with her simple-minded friends, he could see this light fading.
The ordeal started two days ago. Two days... it feels like years. Two days ago the ever-tensing thread between himself and Amanda finally snapped. After spending so much time with her friends (none of whom John could tell apart), she didn't think well of his constant book-reading, but she always seemed to ignore it, though the air seemed to hold its breath when she found him amongst his books. However, on catching him reading The Lord of the Rings, one of his favorite books, on the couch she finally snapped.
"Why do you keep reading this junk? My friends all say that books are confusing," she wondered noisily.
"That's not the point. There's just something so captivating about them, I can't put my finger on it." Beatty responded, not paying much attention to his wife.
"I've heard that this one even contains races that don't exist! How can you care for them if you can't see them or hear them?"
"I've told you a million times that it makes no difference. If you'd only give the books a chance, you might see that! Would you like to read it?" Beatty knew immediately after he asked that it was the wrong thing to say.
"How can you keep doing that?" she fumed. "You read your books day after day and you forget about me and the rest of the world! And for what? For people who never lived talking about things and places that never existed! You care more about these people than you care about me! God, why can't you just be like everyone else?" Her face flushed with the passion of her argument.
Beatty trembled at the wrath of his wife. Beneath the wrath, however, he could see her for what she really was: a lonely, scared woman. She was scared of that which she could not see or feel, and the thought that her husband regularly wandered into this world of the unknown terrified her.
"There's more than words in the books, you know," Beatty began with his voice trembling. "These books have the secrets to life; they say not only how we do something, but why. They tell me how I can live my life the best way possible, and they show me the mistakes other people make before I make them myself." His voice rose, and he let out all of the contempt he felt for the ignorance of his wife. "If you read them, you might understand why I love them or why you're scared of them. Or maybe you're too scared to even look inside of one?" Oh God, what am I doing? Let me stop, let me stop!
The silence went on for a century until Amanda started to sob.
"Amanda..." he whispered, reaching out to hug her.
"No! Stay away from me!" She backed out of the doorway before running to their room, sobbing.
Oh God, I'm such an idiot... what was I thinking?
As he stood at the door he could see Amanda, sobbing and muttering to herself, packing a suitcase with dresses and makeup. The sight made his mouth go dry.
"Amanda, please forgive me. I'm so sorry," he hoarsely apologized.
"No! I see how your mind works now! You think that you're better than me because you read! You think that you know how my mind works because you spend every day buried in that study with your mountains of books! I'm going to stay with one of my friends, they really understand me!" Her bag filled and she ran towards the door, slamming it behind her.
Beatty leaned himself against the wall, trying to make sense of the event that had just taken place. Why did I need to explode? Why? Asking himself the same questions over and over, he tried to think about where to get answers, when he suddenly realized that the answer was at the root of the problem.
The answer is in the books! Why didn't I see before? Excited by the prospect of knowing the truth behind both his and his wife's madness, he ran to his study and picked up a large book. Something was wrong though. Instead of finding comfort and solace in the words he knew so well, he found that he was drowning in a sea of words and conflicting ideas.
"Perhaps we all give the best of our hearts uncritically - to those who hardly think about us in return," T.H. White. So people love people who don't love them back? But then... "Books are the treasured wealth of the world and the fit inheritance of generations and nations," Thoreau. Books are more valuable than money or love? It doesn't make sense! "Tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all," Tennyson. Isn't it easier not to feel the pain, though? "Books cannot always please, however good; Minds are not ever craving for their food." So books... books don't have the answers?
I can't see it... I can't find the meaning anymore! I can't see... can't hear... can't think... Beatty's head felt as though it had been ravaged around in a blender with the various ideas of great thinkers, each one trying to force its way in until they all mixed and confused him.
If I go to sleep, it will all be better. I'll wake up with a clear head and the truth will be so obvious that I'll want to hit myself. Yes, if I just go to sleep, everything will be better.
For the first time, John Beatty wished that he would never wake up.
In the morning he tackled the books again, but the same helpless, drowning feeling washed over him. He tried books of science, fantasy, and history, yet they all failed him. Where is the truth? Where is the reason? I saw it so clearly before... where did it go?
With each passing hour Beatty grew more desperate, and still his search yielded no results. The books have betrayed me! They were always here for me until now! Oh God, why did they leave me when I needed them most?
He ran out the study door, through the hallway, down to the bathroom to let the cold water from the sink give him some insight. Although he had just scoffed Amanda for her ignorance, he could see some truth to her logic. Maybe Amanda was right. Maybe the books really are only words and paper and nothing else.
Standing still and looking at his sleep deprived reflection in the mirror, a sudden crazy thought washed over him. I couldn't possibly do it, could I? The more he thought about this idea, the more sense it made to him. It's the only way. This is the only way I'll be free from them. With a look of determination on his face, Beatty pushed the button that locked the door to his study and slowly pulled it shut.