THE LEFT HAND OF DARKNESS by Ursula K. Le Guin
Reviewed by Ted Gioia
Ursula Le Guin boldly went where few science fiction writers went before – on
to the pages of The New Yorker, into the hallowed halls of Stanford University
and other premier institutions to serve as writer in residence, to more than a
half dozen other institutions of higher learning to pick up honorary degrees.
Somehow Le Guin found the magic formula to break through the sharp divide
between speculative fiction and literary fiction.
And she did it the hard way. Le Guin crossed over into literary respectability by
writing well, by refusing to lower her standards to the sometimes
embarrassingly low expectations of the genre, by building a body of
outstanding work. With twenty novels to her credit, Le Guin can point to a
shelf full of strong, vibrant books – work that has earned her deserved praise
as one of the finest science fiction writers of her generation.
The Left Hand of Darkness describe the exploits of Genly Ai, a visitor from the
peace-loving Ekumen, a galactic federation of advanced societies, who is
attempting to bring the androgynous inhabitants of the planet of Gethen into
their organization. Gethen is a cold planet, but is full of hot-tempered
politicians, and Genly focuses on the prime minister of Karhide, an inscrutable
character known as Estraven, to help him navigate through the often
dangerous political landscape.
This deftly constructed story touches on all of the key themes of Le Guin’s
oeuvre. Here she explores the complexity of gender roles, both in their
biological and culturally imposed forms. She probes the nature of political
institutions and the brokering and intrigue they foster. She examines the
fragility of pacifist attitudes as they try to reach a meeting of minds with more
belligerent actors in a dynamic setting. She brings her insights to bear on
belief systems and mythologies and their influence on individual actions.
Given these themes, Le Guin is often labeled as an exponent of “soft” science
fiction, as opposed to the “hard” stuff, which focuses more closely on the
scientific trappings of the story. But there is nothing soft about Le Guin’s prose
style, which is taut and precise, or her plots, which are built with the solidity and
energy of a Saturn V rocket.
Most commentators have focused on the "sex angle" -- don't they always? --
highlighting the significance of the androgynous mating practices of the
inhabitants of Gethen. But this is merely one element among many others that
Le Guin incorporates into her imaginary world. Her novel could, of course, be
read as a commentary on gender roles, but just as easily it can enlighten our
understanding of political institutions or belief systems. But Le Guin is, above
all, a great descriptive writer, and the sheer beauty of her landscapes, the
topography of her alien world, even the weather, are as critical to the success
of this book as its more overt social themes.
Indeed, Le Guin has largely avoided the two biggest problems with sci-fi books
– lackluster writing and childish art on the covers. I give her publishers credit
for the subdued covers, but the writing can only be chalked up to her own
native genius. The final sections of The Left Hand of Darkness, which describe
Genly Ai and Estraven’s dangerous journey, over 840 miles and 81 days,
through a frozen glacier land, is one of the finest sustained accounts of tension
and adventure in the annals of speculative fiction.
Ursula Le Guin boldly went where few science fiction writers went before – on
to the pages of The New Yorker, into the hallowed halls of Stanford University
and other premier institutions to serve as writer in residence, to more than a
half dozen other institutions of higher learning to pick up honorary degrees.
Somehow Le Guin found the magic formula to break through the sharp divide
between speculative fiction and literary fiction.
And she did it the hard way. Le Guin crossed over into literary respectability by
writing well, by refusing to lower her standards to the sometimes
embarrassingly low expectations of the genre, by building a body of
outstanding work. With twenty novels to her credit, Le Guin can point to a
shelf full of strong, vibrant books – work that has earned her deserved praise
as one of the finest science fiction writers of her generation.
The Left Hand of Darkness describe the exploits of Genly Ai, a visitor from the
peace-loving Ekumen, a galactic federation of advanced societies, who is
attempting to bring the androgynous inhabitants of the planet of Gethen into
their organization. Gethen is a cold planet, but is full of hot-tempered
politicians, and Genly focuses on the prime minister of Karhide, an inscrutable
character known as Estraven, to help him navigate through the often
dangerous political landscape.
This deftly constructed story touches on all of the key themes of Le Guin’s
oeuvre. Here she explores the complexity of gender roles, both in their
biological and culturally imposed forms. She probes the nature of political
institutions and the brokering and intrigue they foster. She examines the
fragility of pacifist attitudes as they try to reach a meeting of minds with more
belligerent actors in a dynamic setting. She brings her insights to bear on
belief systems and mythologies and their influence on individual actions.
Given these themes, Le Guin is often labeled as an exponent of “soft” science
fiction, as opposed to the “hard” stuff, which focuses more closely on the
scientific trappings of the story. But there is nothing soft about Le Guin’s prose
style, which is taut and precise, or her plots, which are built with the solidity and
energy of a Saturn V rocket.
Most commentators have focused on the "sex angle" -- don't they always? --
highlighting the significance of the androgynous mating practices of the
inhabitants of Gethen. But this is merely one element among many others that
Le Guin incorporates into her imaginary world. Her novel could, of course, be
read as a commentary on gender roles, but just as easily it can enlighten our
understanding of political institutions or belief systems. But Le Guin is, above
all, a great descriptive writer, and the sheer beauty of her landscapes, the
topography of her alien world, even the weather, are as critical to the success
of this book as its more overt social themes.
Indeed, Le Guin has largely avoided the two biggest problems with sci-fi books
– lackluster writing and childish art on the covers. I give her publishers credit
for the subdued covers, but the writing can only be chalked up to her own
native genius. The final sections of The Left Hand of Darkness, which describe
Genly Ai and Estraven’s dangerous journey, over 840 miles and 81 days,
through a frozen glacier land, is one of the finest sustained accounts of tension
and adventure in the annals of speculative fiction.