The title points to the invented ministry in Orwell's *Nineteen Eighty-Four*, where history is rewritten to suit those in power. The poem takes that idea and makes it feel small and strange. A fire "looking / in all the books" is a odd image: the flames seem to be searching, almost curious, as they go through the pages. Then the endings get rewritten, and the result is not new stories but "an end of writing" itself. Censorship here doesn't just change what is said; it wipes out the habit of saying anything.
The last stanza turns inward. The speaker asks how to "order" themselves for the coming year, and the word carries a double meaning: to organise one's life, but also to obey an order. The speaker seems unsure how to live under that pressure. The mood is quiet, uneasy and watchful. Nothing is shouted. The dread comes from how calmly the lines move from burning books to a personal question about the future.