Ursula Le Guin
On 22 January one of the most brilliant writers of science fiction, Ursula K. Le Guin, died at the age of 88. With a background in anthropology as a result of her parents' work, her work presented imagined societies holistically rather than partially, with an eye to how different aspects impacted on each other. Where others left much unexplained in their realisation of fictional worlds, she wove a fully textured society, and often continued to explore the ramifications of what she had created. I first came across her work with the Earthsea trilogy, and I actually reviewed The Farthest Shore for the internationally valued journal Children’s Book Review. I remember being critical of the similarity of Ged and Arren after crossing the Mountains of Pain to Frodo and Samwise on the side of Mount Doom in Tolkien’s The Return of the King.
I would love to write about all her books and short stories, but that would take a long time. For now I just want to remark on what were some highlights for me.
Earthsea
The Earthsea trilogy (A Wizard of Earthsea, The Tombs of Atuan and The Farthest Shore) was an example not just of her creativity, but also of her integrity, because Le Guin was clearly not entirely comfortable with the story. In the end, she accepted that something was wrong with the premises of the trilogy, and so went on to write Tehanu and The Other Wind, which demolished the foundations of the magic on which the stories were built. She was not a writer happy with lies.
The Word for World is Forest
In the novelette The Word for World is Forest, Le Guin tackled colonialism and the double standards it involves. One character, discovering that the natives have been been raped by Earthmen, who regard them as little better than animals, is puzzled, querying that if they are human, why are they not being treated as human, and if they are animals, then what of the taboo against bestiality? When I first read it, it reflected for me what witnesses had said of American behaviour towards the Vietnamese in the Vietnam War.
The Left Hand of Darkness
In The Left Hand of Darkness, she creates a world, Gethen or Winter, where gender inequality does not exist because the people are asexual hermaphrodites except when they come into ‘kemmer’ when their gender can become either male or female for the duration, after which they return to asexuality. The whole concept is designed to challenge the idea that differences between men and women are a product of their gender, and throw the light onto the other factors which shape our identity. At the same time it is a fascinating story of friendship and honourable behaviour.
The Dispossessed
Perhaps her greatest novel was The Dispossessed. I know of no better realisation of an egalitarian industrial society, especially one in which the egalitarianism is under threat as a result of inadequate resources. She presents characters who face a seeming conflict between the demands of society and of the individual, but who realise that the freedom of society depends on endorsing the right of the individual to challenge the actuality of how that society is operating without denying the principles on which it is organised. It is an exposition of the socialist 'permanent revolution' in action, and fundamentally challenges our concepts of money and power. In doing so, she allows us to experience a perspective which explicitly reveals just how ludicrous this 'normal life' really is.
The Ones Who Walk Away
Her short stories too often contained large themes. In ‘The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas’ she challenges the idea of a society based on the greatest good of the greatest number. In it, Omelas is peaceful and prosperous for everyone, the condition being that they all know that the price is the continuous degradation and suffering of one person. Some choose to walk away, but Le Guin leaves us with the realisation that we live in such a world, where prosperity is at the cost of continuous suffering for others, though the relationship is hidden or denied. The problem is that there is nowhere to walk away to.
The poem about Le Guin which I have added to my website was written in 2014. It is a shame that it will never come true. We have lost a great story-teller and humanitarian, and someone who understoo
d that being human has nothing to do with what we look like, where we live, or when. For her, being human meant recognising that all other humans have the same rights as ourselves, and that all power relationships are degrading of our humanity.
The photograph accompanying this blog is of a statue carved in Malta during the Temple Period, when an egalitarian society erected the first stone buildings in the world.
