In the piece, Orwell describes his experiences between the ages of eight and thirteen, in the years before and during World War I (from September 1911 to December 1916), while a pupil at a preparatory school: St Cyprian's, in the seaside town of Eastbourne, in Sussex.
St Cyprian's was, according to him, a "world of force and fraud and secrecy," in which the young Orwell, a shy, sickly and unattractive boy surrounded by pupils from families much richer than his own, was "like a goldfish" thrown "into a tank full of pike."
Orwell describes the education he received as "a preparation for a sort of confidence trick," geared entirely towards maximising his future performance in the admissions exams to leading English public schools, such as Eton and Harrow, without any concern for actual knowledge or understanding.
Orwell also claims that he was accepted as a boarder at St Cyprian's —at half of the usual fees—in the hopes that he would earn scholarship that would contribute to the school's prestige, and therefore to its commercial success.
A chapter is devoted to the puritanical attitudes towards sex at the time and to the frightful consequences of the discovery of what appears to have been a case of mutual masturbation among a group of boys at the school.
He describes the porridge at the dining hall as containing "more lumps, hairs and unexplained black things than one would have thought possible, unless someone were putting them there on purpose," recalls seeing a human turd floating in the Devonshire Baths, and mentions how a new boy's teeth turned green because of neglect.
According to the essay, the main lesson that Orwell took away from St Cyprian's was that, for a "weak" and "inferior" person such as himself, "to survive, or at least to preserve any kind of independence, was essentially criminal, since it meant breaking rules which you yourself recognized," and that he lived in a world "where it was not possible [for him] to be good."
Prep schools were established from the 19th century to prepare students for these examinations and to provide a broader-based education than the traditional crammer, offering sports and additional subjects.
The long-serving deputy, Robert Sillar, taught geography, drawing, shooting and nature studies and was highly regarded in old boys' accounts.
In 1916 Orwell came second in the Harrow History Prize, had another poem published in the Henley and South Oxfordshire Standard, and with Connolly had his work praised by the external examiner Sir Charles Grant Robertson.
He considered the work "grossly exaggerated, badly written, and likely to harm Orwell's reputation" and when Sonia insisted, he told her, "You’re completely nutty about St Cyprian's".
Most biographers have to a greater or lesser extent concluded that "Such, Such Were the Joys" significantly misrepresents the school and exaggerates Orwell's suffering there[citation needed].
[22] Connolly, on reviewing Stansky & Abraham's interpretation, wrote "I was at first enchanted as by anything which recalls one's youth but when I went to verify some references from my old reports and letters I was nearly sick...
The Wilkeses were true friends and I had caricatured their mannerisms (developed as a kind of ritual square-bashing for dealing with generations of boys) and read mercenary motives into much that was just enthusiasm.
"[32] Walter Christie and Henry Longhurst went further and wrote their own sympathetic accounts of the school in response to Orwell's and voiced their appreciation for the formidable Mrs Wilkes.
She wrote "I can guarantee that the 'I' of "Such, Such were the Joys" is quite unrecognisable as Eric as we knew him then", and "He was a philosophical boy, with varied interests and a sense of humour—which he was inclined to indulge when referring to St Cyprian's in the holidays.