The ironies in this book continue to multiply as Montag discovers that Millie was the one who turned in the fire alarm. In fact, it’s interesting to note that as Millie makes her abrupt departure, her worries and concern focus only on her television family and not her husband (Montag). Although Beatty feels some remorse over what will happen to Montag, he continues to ridicule him: “Old Montag wanted to fly near the sun and now that he’s burnt his damn wings, he wonders why. Didn’t I hint enough when I sent the Hound around your place?” Though one’s sympathies are, rightly so, with Montag, Beatty is revealed here as a man torn between duty and conscience, which makes him more of an individual and less a villain, less a straw man. He does not particularly want to arrest Montag for breaking the law and his metaphorical concept of Montag as Icarus further reveals his active imagination and knowledge of (illegal) books.
Yet through sheer maliciousness, Beatty demands that Montag burn his own home. However, note that Montag does not burn the television with remorse—in fact, he takes great pleasure in burning it: “And then he came to the parlor where the great idiot monsters lay asleep with their white thoughts and their snowy dreams. And he shot a bolt at each of the three blank walls and the vacuum hissed out at him.” In a strange way, Montag gets his revenge on the television screens that he hates so strongly.
The entire episode has, for Montag, a phantasmagorical quality. He perceives his arrival and the preparations for the burning as a “carnival” being set up. Later, after the destruction of his house and after the spectators disappear, Montag remarks that the incident was as if “the great tents of the circus had slumped into charcoal and rubble and the show was well over.” After the burning of his house, Montag is not smiling.
