The book is great; the movie so-so.
I discovered the postwar British novel back in the 60s. There were a lot of very interesting books, many of them made into movies. But the books are always better than the movies.
With Burgess, there's A Clockwork Orange, The Doctor is Sick, Enderby Inside, and a host of other good books.
Then there's Kingsley Amis, Lucky Jim.
John Wain, Hurry on Down.
John Braine, Room at the Top.
Allan Sillitoe, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning.
Iris Murdoch, also a host of good novels, notably A Severed Head.
L. P. Hartley, The Go-Between.
Evelyn Waugh, A Handful of Dust and Brideshead Revisited.
There's actually quite a few more.
Funny, I don't remember the movie ending as he says.
As I remember it his conditioning held and he was nonviolent
but was then brutally killed by his former droogies who
had become coppers for the state.
Bump for an old post that deserved more reading than it got.