From the beginning, Solnit makes it clear that the lens through which she’ll view Orwell isn’t typical. Much like Orwell himself, Solnit is an iconoclast, and she wants to examine Orwell’s legacy in other ways than through his infamous prophecies about the consequences of totalitarianism and its destruction of individual autonomy. Rather, she’s interested in Orwell’s sense of optimism, his hope for the future, and his commitment to aesthetic beauty—as evident in his love for nature and his planting of roses. Solnit notes, however, that an attachment to the natural world—the English countryside or the impractical rose—isn’t devoid of political context, nor is gardening an activity exempted from political significance. As in Orwell’s renowned essay “Politics and the English Language,” depictions of the natural landscape—like language itself—can be manipulated to serve particular ends, the origins obscured to promote particular perspectives. Nature, like language, is fraught with politics.

When Solnit analyzes some of Orwell’s reportage during the Second World War, she notes the juxtaposition between his portrayal of the brutal acts of wartime and his writing about seemingly small details, usually rooted in nature. For example, when Orwell encounters the dead body of a German soldier, he notes the flowers placed upon his chest.