Orr is a fictional character in the classic novel Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. Orr is a bomber pilot who shares a tent with his good friend, the protagonist of the novel, Yossarian. Described as "a warm-hearted, simple-minded gnome," Orr is generally considered crazy. His most notable feature is repeatedly being shot down over water, but, until his final flight, always managing to survive along with his entire crew. On his final flight, perhaps two-thirds of the way through the novel, he is again shot down into the Mediterranean, and is lost at sea. Only in the last ten pages of the novel does Heller reveal that Orr's crashes were part of an elaborate (and successful) plot to escape the war.
Orr is the only airman of the group to successfully get away by the end of the novel.
Orr is a surname common throughout the English-speaking world, but especially in Scotland, Ulster, the United States, Canada, and northern England. The name is considered to have numerous origins: such as being derived from an Old Norse byname; a Gaelic nickname; and an Old English topographical name, or similar place-name.
Orr may also refer to:
Orr, MN -- U.S. city in Minnesota
Housing Units (2000): 135
Land area (2000): 1.340175 sq. miles (3.471036 sq. km)
Water area (2000): 0.011798 sq. miles (0.030556 sq. km)
Total area (2000): 1.351973 sq. miles (3.501592 sq. km)
FIPS code: 48634
Located within: Minnesota (MN), FIPS 27
Location: 48.061125 N, 92.829243 W
ZIP Codes (1990):
Note: some ZIP codes may be omitted esp. for suburbs.
Usage examples of "orr".
He looked at Orr to see if the statement had been taken amiss, and met, for one instant, the man’s eyes.
Haber maintained his noncommittal but interested expression, and Orr plowed on.
While Orr lay staring at his imaginary crystal ball, Haber got up and began fitting him with the modified trancap, constantly removing and replacing it to readjust the tiny electrodes and position them on the scalp under the thick, light-brown hair.
He spoke often and softly, repeating suggestions and occasionally asking bland questions so that Orr would not drift off into sleep yet and would stay in rapport.
The headline, “BIG A-l STRIKE NEAR AFGHAN BORDER,” and the subhead, “Threat of Afghan Intervention,” stared Orr eye to I for six stops.
George Orr stayed in Portland because he had always lived there and because he had no reason to believe that life anywhere else would be better, or different.
He laughed when Orr was done, not long or loudly, but perhaps a little excitedly.
Knowing that Orr desperately needed confirmation, he would not causelessly withhold it if he could give it.
It had taken Orr himself a long time to bring himself to face the fact that he was doing something impossible.
George Orr, pale in the flickering fluorescent glare of the train car in the infrafluvial dark, swayed as he stood holding a swaying steel handle on a strap among a thousand other souls.
A city man and subway rider, Orr did not even hear the appalling noise.
But he’s using me for experimental—” Orr got no further: Miss Lelache had stiffened, the spider had seen, at last, her prey.
With his peculiar docility, his way of doing the habitual and acceptable thing, Orr came and sat down opposite in the big leather chair placed for interviewees and patients.
He wanted to calm Orr down, to get him back into his normal self-effacing state, in which he would lack the courage to say anything about his dream powers in front of the third person.
If Orr quit Voluntary Therapy, he became liable to prosecution for obtaining drugs illegally and would be sent to jail or the nut hatch.