Ross Douthat, writing for The New Statesman, claims Christopher Hitchens aspired to be a second George Orwell. Without a doubt he admired Orwell, publishing a booklength study of him, Why Orwell Matters (2002), in which the prevailing sentiment is gratitude. It also marks the distinctions between the two. Hitchens, no matter what his aspirations were or were not, is certainly no George Orwell epigone. He ends his study of the great writer's life and work saying it's not what you think but how you think, a thought that doesn't receive my full endorsement. I wouldn't be impressed by "thinking" that undergirds a hateful ideology. But with Hitchens, Douthat makes the mistake of trashing him for what he thinks (as well as failing in his duty to improve civilization itself) without exploring the reason we remember him in the first place - how he thinks. In fact, he doesn't even allude to Hitchens's true appeal. It's not "brio," which no writer uniquely possesses. Sure, there are those willing to attack both the left and the right, though not necessarily memorably. Now show me the writer with a comparable sense of humor. Fair warning: You'll be searching long and hard. Those with an awful sense of humor and those with no sense of humor - the serious thinkers - take up most of the space and aren't budging any time soon. I wouldn't insult Hitchens by reducing him to the status of "wit." Some seem to make a living, perhaps a fine living, off a sort of fast food version of humor. And the internet is rife with humor of less substance than a burger that looks like someone punched. Which suggests that the world always seems to have a shamefully scarce supply of writers and thinkers who are synonymous with laughter, who can be counted on to truly laugh and appreciate laughter and enrage with laughter. When Hitchens died, the scarcity grew. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if few noticed.
