The Dispossessed | |||||
Ursula K. Le Guin | |||||
Orion Millennium, 319 pages | |||||
A review by Victoria Strauss
The Dispossessed -- which has not been out of print since its
original publication in 1974 -- is perhaps Le Guin's most famous
work, and arguably her most intellectually challenging. It's a
book of opposites: a utopian novel that doesn't flinch from
exposing the flaws of its model society, a feminist-themed
narrative with a male protagonist, a social commentary that
presents communal cooperation as the truest human ideal, yet
focuses on the inevitable separateness of the creative individual
within such a structure. Through these dichotomies, Le Guin
examines the tension between human aspiration and human nature,
between what can be dreamed and what can be achieved. This larger
theme, together with Le Guin's mature mastery of her craft, give
The Dispossessed a universality that has prevented it from
becoming dated, despite its roots in the political issues of its
time (the communal counterculture of the late 60s and early 70s,
the original women's movement).
The Dispossessed takes place on twin planets: Urras, a lush
world that supports a number of diverse nations, and Anarres,
Urras' arid moon. Two centuries before the story begins, the
followers of the anarchist philosopher Odo, seeking an alternative
to the oppression and corruption of Urras, established a utopian
society on Anarres. The Anarresti anarchists aren't the bomb-throwing, chaos-loving dissidents of popular imagination, but
idealists who believe that most human ills grow from living under
governments, and that the only just society is one based upon
communal sharing, mutual tolerance, and voluntary cooperation. "To
make a thief, make an owner," runs one Odonian aphorism; "to create
crime, create laws." On Anarres there are no laws, no property, no
governors, no nations, no money, no marriage, no police, no
prisons. Even the language, deliberately created by the colony's
first settlers, reflects anti-propertarian ideals: there are no
possessive pronouns.
Shevek is a physicist who possesses the kind of genius that comes
only once in many generations. His life's work is to unite the
principles of Sequency (time moves forward in a linear fashion,
like an arrow) and Simultaneity (all times are present at once; it
is we who move) into a General Temporal Theory that, among other
things, will make instantaneous communication possible across
space. But in the environment of Anarres, he can't complete this
work. Anarres, in spite of itself, has evolved a de facto
bureaucracy based upon the assertion of custom and the pressure to
conform (the "inadmissible government that rules the Odonian
society by stifling the individual mind," as one character puts
it), and Shevek's theories, diverging radically from conventional
Anarresti physics, are not welcome. He isn't barred from exploring
them -- Anarresti society doesn't have those kinds of prohibitive
mechanisms -- but he is ignored and ostracized, and can't obtain the
resources he needs.
The only solution, as Shevek sees it, is to travel to Urras, to the
wealthy and decadent nation of A-Io. Despite the almost complete
isolation of the two planets, his work is known and respected by
the Ioti, and they are eager to help him pursue it. He conceives
of his journey not simply as a way to complete his General Theory,
but as a mission to break down the wall that divides the two
worlds, to begin the process of introducing Anarres and its ideals
to the rest of the universe.
In A-Io, Shevek is confronted by the differences between the two
societies. As he struggles to assimilate them, he begins to see
that the haven he thought he had found is in fact a jail. The
willingness of the Ioti physicists to help him stems not from their
love of knowledge, but from their greed to possess his work, to use
it for their nation's advantage. He faces an impossible dilemma:
how, imprisoned by his own choice, can he behave like a free man?
How, on Urras, can he remain a true Anarresti?
The Dispossessed tells two separate stories, in
alternating chapters: of Shevek's life leading up to his decision
to leave Anarres, and of what happens once he reaches Urras. The
final chapter of the first story links up with the first chapter of
the second, forming a complete narrative. This elegant structure,
embodying as it does Shevek's own concept of Simultaneity, allows
Le Guin to explore Shevek's character in great depth, and to
illuminate each society by her discussion of the other.
While Anarres is an entirely invented culture (Le Guin has said she
was attempting to work out how an anarchist society would function
in reality, and she has done so, with impressive thoroughness),
that of A-Io bears a similarity to the United States, with its
hysterical media, its rigid gender roles, its Cold War politics,
and its great extremes of luxury and want. Characteristically, Le
Guin doesn't present a straightforward critique of this decadent
propertarian society. Her condemnation of it is certainly strong
(it's here that the book's 70s roots are most apparent), but she
also dwells convincingly on its seductive beauties and pleasures --
something Shevek finds hard to balance:
By portraying the limitations of her utopia, Le Guin avoids the
one-dimensionality of early utopian fiction; also, by showing the
tension between theory and practice, she is able to bring Anarresti
ideals into sharper focus. This is an important aspect of the
book, for the idea of Anarres, as well as the human ability
to conceive that idea, is as vital as the imperfect reality of
Anarresti society. Anarres-the-idea -- "an idea of freedom, of
change, of human solidarity" -- represents the best of human nature,
the fulfillment of its greatest promise, perhaps even the ultimate
evolutionary future of all humankind. As such, Anarres-the-idea
serves as a powerful touchstone not just to Shevek, but to everyone
he encounters: the politicians of A-Io, who fear it as a threat of
chaos; the poor workers of Urras, for whom it holds out the hope
of successful revolution; the Terrans, who regard it as a choice
they have forever forfeited; the ancient Hainish race, who see in
it, perhaps, the possibility of something new.
Another theme that's strongly present in The Dispossessed is
the manner in which true creativity places an individual at odds
with communal society. Shevek's insistence on fulfilling the
demands of his prodigious intellect is regarded by his Anarresti
colleagues as "egoism," since it takes him down avenues his people
don't value, and places individual endeavour above the common good.
Shevek understands this, yet the imperative to creative
individuality is absolute; at every juncture he puts it first,
despite the pain it brings him. Late in the book, he comes to a
realization:
The Dispossessed isn't always easy reading. It's written in
the flowing, limpid style characteristic of Le Guin's earlier
works, but the narrative itself is dense and somewhat didactic, and
the character of Shevek, while explored in great detail, remains
oddly distant. But it is deeply worthwhile reading -- subtle,
challenging, exquisitely crafted. In other words, truly an SF
masterwork.
Victoria Strauss is a novelist, and a lifelong reader of fantasy and science fiction. Her most recent fantasy novel The Garden of the Stone is currently available from HarperCollins EOS. For details, visit her website. |
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