Thanks to the NYT for alerting me to the existence of The Orwell Prize. A simple, but genius, premise, The Orwell Prize makes George Orwell's diary entries available to readers 70 years to the day that they were written.
While hardly as intense as 1984 or Animal Farm, I'm already hooked on Orwell's observation of slugs, weather, and the sloe gin making traditions of the Gypsy caravans that made their way through his area of England. It feels like it comes from a place much more remote than 70 years ago.
Perhaps this is the perfect solution to my inability to sit down and read anything for more than 45 seconds.