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3.08 AVERAGE
3.08 AVERAGE
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
I've read a fair amount of Victorian literature, and this is some of the most painfully Victorian prose I've slogged through.
The concept is interesting, being a very thorough description of a utopian Golden Age as conceived by a man writing before the first world war. Reading it now, a full quarter-century after the set date, it's by turns antiquated and naively optimistic, with a sprinkling of prescient blips. Who knew UBI arguments have dated back to at least 1887?
The concept is interesting, being a very thorough description of a utopian Golden Age as conceived by a man writing before the first world war. Reading it now, a full quarter-century after the set date, it's by turns antiquated and naively optimistic, with a sprinkling of prescient blips. Who knew UBI arguments have dated back to at least 1887?
Content Warnings
Graphic: Classism
Moderate: Racism, Sexism
Minor: Ableism
In Bellamy’s Boston in the year 2000, many things have changed from how they were in 1887, and the consensus among the book’s characters is that they have changed for the better. I do not imagine many people would argue the merits of the eradication of poverty and war. But when one looks more closely at gender roles, “utopia” becomes a bit more blurry.
The fact that women have jobs outside the home is exciting and progressive. However, they are still treated as quite secondary to men. Being “inferior of strength to men, and further disqualified industrially in special ways” women work within an entirely separate labor structure (257). The men discuss it as if the women are playing at work. “Under no circumstances is a woman permitted to follow any employment not perfectly adapted, both as to kind and degree of labor, to her sex” (257). Further discourse shows that rather than seeing women as deserving of work just as they are, men “let them” work as long as it does not interact with their “serious” industry. Dr. Leete says that “they permit them to work at all only because it is fully understood that a certain regular requirement of labor, of a sort adapted to their powers, is well for body and mind” (257). In other words, they permit them to work because it makes them prettier. One sees the condescension even more clearly when Dr. Leete explains, “We have given them a world of their own, with its emulations, ambitions, and careers, and I assure you they are very happy in it” (259). And finally, to see how little society’s respect for women has “progressed,” we learn that their main role and value is still as producers of children. In fact “the higher positions in the feminine army of industry are intrusted only to women who have been both wives and mothers, as they alone fully represent their sex” (261).
Perhaps this is a challenge that no utopian writer has yet conquered: creating a society that everyone thinks is utopian. In Bellamy’s future society, Dr. Leete explains that “we have nothing to make laws about. The fundamental principles on which our society is founded settle for all time the strifes and misunderstandings which in your day called for legislation” (208). Even if we concede that the elimination of money and personal property would obviate many laws, how can we be convinced that there are no legal or moral issues on which people disagree?
The yearning to create a perfect society has captured many artists, and will no doubt continue to do so. But who decides what is perfect, much less what is better? Who defines progress?
The fact that women have jobs outside the home is exciting and progressive. However, they are still treated as quite secondary to men. Being “inferior of strength to men, and further disqualified industrially in special ways” women work within an entirely separate labor structure (257). The men discuss it as if the women are playing at work. “Under no circumstances is a woman permitted to follow any employment not perfectly adapted, both as to kind and degree of labor, to her sex” (257). Further discourse shows that rather than seeing women as deserving of work just as they are, men “let them” work as long as it does not interact with their “serious” industry. Dr. Leete says that “they permit them to work at all only because it is fully understood that a certain regular requirement of labor, of a sort adapted to their powers, is well for body and mind” (257). In other words, they permit them to work because it makes them prettier. One sees the condescension even more clearly when Dr. Leete explains, “We have given them a world of their own, with its emulations, ambitions, and careers, and I assure you they are very happy in it” (259). And finally, to see how little society’s respect for women has “progressed,” we learn that their main role and value is still as producers of children. In fact “the higher positions in the feminine army of industry are intrusted only to women who have been both wives and mothers, as they alone fully represent their sex” (261).
Perhaps this is a challenge that no utopian writer has yet conquered: creating a society that everyone thinks is utopian. In Bellamy’s future society, Dr. Leete explains that “we have nothing to make laws about. The fundamental principles on which our society is founded settle for all time the strifes and misunderstandings which in your day called for legislation” (208). Even if we concede that the elimination of money and personal property would obviate many laws, how can we be convinced that there are no legal or moral issues on which people disagree?
The yearning to create a perfect society has captured many artists, and will no doubt continue to do so. But who decides what is perfect, much less what is better? Who defines progress?
Thought I'd try doing a real write-up for once, and I'm finding that this thing gets very long very quickly. Apologies.
Looking Backward is a notable early effort in daring others to imagine a better world, and for its time was greatly successful. It still makes for an interesting artifact today, but strays away from being any kind of guiding light.
The foreword in my edition (by Erich Fromm circa 1960) is proficient at providing historical context to the reader. Nationalism for example meant putting the means of production in the hands of the nation (not to be confused with the meanings the word's taken on since). Here, nationalism describes something more akin to state socialism or state capitalism—the distinction between which is arguably blurry (in theory and the novel's world alike). I'm not an enthusiast of every aspect of this world, but there are certainly qualities to admire, principally, its humanism and insistence of human nature's malleability.
The plot of the book is as follows: idle 19th century capitalist Julian West falls into a hypnotic sleep one night. He wakes in the twilight of the 20th century to the hospitality of Dr. Leete and his family. First, Julian is confounded by some aspect or another of 20th century society, at which point Leete responds with "nothing could be simpler" and delivers a ten-page expository monologue (repeat ad nauseam).
The strength of the book is much more its ideas than its plot, in case every other reviewer and their mother hadn't yet told you.
Bellamy's utopia is a benevolent dictatorship of bureaucracy: a world designed to maximize quality of life for each person provided they contribute their best when prompted, with the promptings seemingly reasonable in nature. Very much a give what you can, get what you need kind of society. It's the charming kind of retro-future that could only have been imagined before the dominance of personal cars and computers. There's a fixed and generous universal basic income for all members of the nation, guaranteed education, and avenues into artistic and liberal arts professions. It’s not too bad, really—though still lacking in noticeable departments (sex/gender, race, self-determination of laborers).
Bellamy seems to have imagined a society that had finished evolving socially, and hence has little social conflict. This society, as it happens, doesn't stray too far from the status quo of his time. It's a patriarchal society; women are condescended to throughout, and in the novel their corresponding industrial army is an afterthought catered to stereotypes. Only one person of color is explicitly mentioned (and he's a servant), but when others are implied there's a heavy coating of racist colonial thought. On that note... eugenics! Lots of "improvement of the race" seasoned with a few "the more backward races" moments. It's certainly a premise that could be updated socially while still exploring the same intent, which in spite of its ills, still seems humanistic in overall intenet. (In terms of updating the premise, I intend on reading Mack Reynolds' reinterpretation of the material soon.)
And yet in spite of being a product of its time socially, there's still something of a progressive streak. Bellamy in his own way anticipated second-wave feminism, and even took care to clarify that domestic labor is still labor (a concept that many still struggle with today). The book's fixed universal basic income provides an aspirational social safety net, and the general attitude of looking out for one's fellow human beings is comfort for the soul. Bellamy shoots down cynical assumptions about human nature, observing that a lot of what's being called "human nature" in the first place is motivated directly by the stressors of capitalism. What would society look like if we created an economy with different behavioral incentives? What would an economy look like if we designed it to foster compassion and cooperation rather than selfishness and competition?
And yet! Bellamy's industrial army is hierarchical, and isn't particularly democratic. The classes and tiers each group of laborers are sorted into would seem, in real life, to produce animosity and cliquish behavior (perhaps less-so than our 21st century setup, but still). The fact that only the higher-ups have voting privileges is also a problem—deciding what's best for the laborers at large while barring most of them from even participating in the conversation. The decision-making process is centralized, making it even more difficult for workers to communicate needs that are specific to their settings or circumstances. It’s on these counts where I don’t think Bellamy’s 20th century utopia could quite be described as socialism, since worker input isn’t particularly revered. Much more nationalist than socialist, it seems.
Overall, I have mixed feelings about the work. Progressive for its time, and yet still of its time. An earnest and admirable effort to imagine something better even if not a wholly successful one. A somewhat tedious book, as well (see: Leete's monologues; a tendency to explain rather than experience). Nonetheless, I believe that the imagining of better futures is necessary and imperative for our own sakes, and that utopian fiction has a role to play in that. On that front, Looking Backward is perhaps a better artifact than roadmap. Still worth looking into if you're curious, though.
Death to capitalism, etc...
Looking Backward is a notable early effort in daring others to imagine a better world, and for its time was greatly successful. It still makes for an interesting artifact today, but strays away from being any kind of guiding light.
The foreword in my edition (by Erich Fromm circa 1960) is proficient at providing historical context to the reader. Nationalism for example meant putting the means of production in the hands of the nation (not to be confused with the meanings the word's taken on since). Here, nationalism describes something more akin to state socialism or state capitalism—the distinction between which is arguably blurry (in theory and the novel's world alike). I'm not an enthusiast of every aspect of this world, but there are certainly qualities to admire, principally, its humanism and insistence of human nature's malleability.
The plot of the book is as follows: idle 19th century capitalist Julian West falls into a hypnotic sleep one night. He wakes in the twilight of the 20th century to the hospitality of Dr. Leete and his family. First, Julian is confounded by some aspect or another of 20th century society, at which point Leete responds with "nothing could be simpler" and delivers a ten-page expository monologue (repeat ad nauseam).
The strength of the book is much more its ideas than its plot, in case every other reviewer and their mother hadn't yet told you.
Bellamy's utopia is a benevolent dictatorship of bureaucracy: a world designed to maximize quality of life for each person provided they contribute their best when prompted, with the promptings seemingly reasonable in nature. Very much a give what you can, get what you need kind of society. It's the charming kind of retro-future that could only have been imagined before the dominance of personal cars and computers. There's a fixed and generous universal basic income for all members of the nation, guaranteed education, and avenues into artistic and liberal arts professions. It’s not too bad, really—though still lacking in noticeable departments (sex/gender, race, self-determination of laborers).
Bellamy seems to have imagined a society that had finished evolving socially, and hence has little social conflict. This society, as it happens, doesn't stray too far from the status quo of his time. It's a patriarchal society; women are condescended to throughout, and in the novel their corresponding industrial army is an afterthought catered to stereotypes. Only one person of color is explicitly mentioned (and he's a servant), but when others are implied there's a heavy coating of racist colonial thought. On that note... eugenics! Lots of "improvement of the race" seasoned with a few "the more backward races" moments. It's certainly a premise that could be updated socially while still exploring the same intent, which in spite of its ills, still seems humanistic in overall intenet. (In terms of updating the premise, I intend on reading Mack Reynolds' reinterpretation of the material soon.)
And yet in spite of being a product of its time socially, there's still something of a progressive streak. Bellamy in his own way anticipated second-wave feminism, and even took care to clarify that domestic labor is still labor (a concept that many still struggle with today). The book's fixed universal basic income provides an aspirational social safety net, and the general attitude of looking out for one's fellow human beings is comfort for the soul. Bellamy shoots down cynical assumptions about human nature, observing that a lot of what's being called "human nature" in the first place is motivated directly by the stressors of capitalism. What would society look like if we created an economy with different behavioral incentives? What would an economy look like if we designed it to foster compassion and cooperation rather than selfishness and competition?
And yet! Bellamy's industrial army is hierarchical, and isn't particularly democratic. The classes and tiers each group of laborers are sorted into would seem, in real life, to produce animosity and cliquish behavior (perhaps less-so than our 21st century setup, but still). The fact that only the higher-ups have voting privileges is also a problem—deciding what's best for the laborers at large while barring most of them from even participating in the conversation. The decision-making process is centralized, making it even more difficult for workers to communicate needs that are specific to their settings or circumstances. It’s on these counts where I don’t think Bellamy’s 20th century utopia could quite be described as socialism, since worker input isn’t particularly revered. Much more nationalist than socialist, it seems.
Overall, I have mixed feelings about the work. Progressive for its time, and yet still of its time. An earnest and admirable effort to imagine something better even if not a wholly successful one. A somewhat tedious book, as well (see: Leete's monologues; a tendency to explain rather than experience). Nonetheless, I believe that the imagining of better futures is necessary and imperative for our own sakes, and that utopian fiction has a role to play in that. On that front, Looking Backward is perhaps a better artifact than roadmap. Still worth looking into if you're curious, though.
Death to capitalism, etc...
challenging
informative
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
N/A
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
challenging
informative
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
challenging
informative
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
this novel is at the top of the list of books we studied in “The Utopia and Dystopian Novel” with Pamela Bedore. When it came out in 1888, it not only became a best-seller rivaled only by “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” and “Ben Hur”, but it also led to the creation of “Bellamy Clubs” all over the US where people discussing the novel’s utopian themes could work together to materialize the novel’s vision for a communitarian nationalization. I took my sweet time with this one in order to appreciate just how thought-provoking the vision for a world where time as opposed to money becomes the means of exchange in order to retain egalitarianism.
Looking Backward is more of a socio-economic treatise than a novel. Each chapter essentially picks a point or two (labor, say) and explains how if we only did such and such, utopia would result. That's no surprise - that's pretty much what it says on the back cover. The surprise is that despite this strong concentration of analysis, the framing works surprisingly well. The protagonist, Julian West, comes across as an interesting fellow, and if his coming romance is not exactly a surprise, it's still warm and nice.
The book is hampered, of course, by being viewed from a post-Soviet vantage. We've seen a version of what Bellamy predicted, and it didn't work. To be fair, Bellamy might not have been very much in favor of what the Soviets actually achieved, but it's the closest thing we've seen to what he proposed (the current Chinese model is moving away from his views, not toward them).
The main failing of the book is its overly rosy view of human nature. Bellamy takes pains to argue that his proposals work because they play to self interest, but too many of the details are glossed over. The incentives that he does describe complicate the simple system that he started out to describe. I'm more idealistic than most, and I enjoyed the concepts Bellamy lays out. It's fun to think about, but hindsight makes me sceptical that any of it would actually work, or that it would be a good idea. There simply aren't adequate safeguards built in against corruption.
Bellamy takes his best shot at acknowledging and addressing the stumbling blocks. The hardest ones, of course, are the ones he doesn't know are there. On the question of gender (which he leaves so late that I feared he wouldn't address it at all), he goes not for 'separate but equal', but for 'separate and it's amazing how much those little women accomplish'. The question of race (which enters through his 1887 'colored' servant), doesn't get a mention in the analysis.
All in all, I was surprised at Bellamy's literary skill (I liked the initial analogy of society as a coach pulled by the poor, with the rich ever at risk of sliding out of their high seats), and this was a book worth reading. I don't see reading the sequel, but I do expect to try some of his more literary work, to see if his style holds up when he's writing about less serious issues.
Also - he offers a sort-of preview of the (ebook) self-publishing industry. Not very close, but still interesting.
The book is hampered, of course, by being viewed from a post-Soviet vantage. We've seen a version of what Bellamy predicted, and it didn't work. To be fair, Bellamy might not have been very much in favor of what the Soviets actually achieved, but it's the closest thing we've seen to what he proposed (the current Chinese model is moving away from his views, not toward them).
The main failing of the book is its overly rosy view of human nature. Bellamy takes pains to argue that his proposals work because they play to self interest, but too many of the details are glossed over. The incentives that he does describe complicate the simple system that he started out to describe. I'm more idealistic than most, and I enjoyed the concepts Bellamy lays out. It's fun to think about, but hindsight makes me sceptical that any of it would actually work, or that it would be a good idea. There simply aren't adequate safeguards built in against corruption.
Bellamy takes his best shot at acknowledging and addressing the stumbling blocks. The hardest ones, of course, are the ones he doesn't know are there. On the question of gender (which he leaves so late that I feared he wouldn't address it at all), he goes not for 'separate but equal', but for 'separate and it's amazing how much those little women accomplish'. The question of race (which enters through his 1887 'colored' servant), doesn't get a mention in the analysis.
All in all, I was surprised at Bellamy's literary skill (I liked the initial analogy of society as a coach pulled by the poor, with the rich ever at risk of sliding out of their high seats), and this was a book worth reading. I don't see reading the sequel, but I do expect to try some of his more literary work, to see if his style holds up when he's writing about less serious issues.
Also - he offers a sort-of preview of the (ebook) self-publishing industry. Not very close, but still interesting.
I really like this book, for all of its tendentiousness and sometimes naivety. It is such an optimistic vision that I cannot fault it.
adventurous
medium-paced