“But what’s so great about being a perfectionist? You’re never happy. You do all this work, and then the stuff you’ve made just pisses you off.”

I actually enjoyed this a great deal, even though I picked it up assuming Orwell had contributed to the title and was a bit confused when it turned out to be a big brother both in a familial and literal sense rather than a work dealing with the government or spying or something like that.

it was interesting, particularly on the theme of siblings (of which I have 2 and my partner has 1, but there our similarities end). To me, my siblings are happenstance and hold no more tie to me than any strangers I might come into contact with through life generally. I'd give blood were we matches, bone marrow or a lung if they were dying, but I'd do that for anyone (unless they were a mass murderer or something unspeakable). To her, the connection of a brother goes far and beyond that; there's this ineffable, and yes sometimes enviable tie. Such is shown in this work, and that's what really sank it home for me.