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carlageek 's review for:
The Dispossessed: An Ambiguous Utopia
by Ursula K. Le Guin
From a thematic perspective, The Dispossessed charges over dense political ground. It is sometimes subtitled “An Ambiguous Utopia,” though there’s not much ambiguity about it; neither of the societies explored in the book is particularly utopian. It pits an idealistic anarcho-syndicalist collective (I had to look it up to learn that term), Anarres, against a more familiar capitalist democracy on its sister planet, Urras, from which the people of Anarres fled some 200 years before. The Anarrasti scrabble out subsistence in an unforgiving desert landscape, speaking an artificial language full of Whorfian attempts to shape their worldview, such as using the same word for “work” and “play” (but nevertheless having a separate word for “drudgery” or “shit work”).
The political exposition comes through the eyes of a loyal Anarrasti believer, Shevek, who visits Urras and sees a tremendously uneven distribution of wealth that keeps an elite class comfortably shielded from the squalor of the people who serve them. As Shevek learns, while the grass may literally be greener on Urras, people aren’t any freer there. But in the course of the book Shevek also comes to understand that the Anarrasti society which he idealizes is faltering, subtly becoming subject in its own way to the human drives for power and status. The true enemy of freedom seems to be stagnation and complacency, coupled with the very human thirst for status and power, which perhaps cannot be overcome regardless of what political structure attempts to contain it.
All of this provides plenty to think about. And as compelling as the political themes of the book are, it’s also a master-class in subtle world-building. The history, ideals, and lifestyle of Anarres are revealed in slowly unfolding layers, through Shevek’s childhood indoctrination (in one sequence, Shevek and some of his schoolmates experiment with imprisoning another boy, because there are no prisons on Anarres and the concept is alien to them); through his experiences with a prickly mentor at his university and on harsh desert work crews; and through his political awakening when he reunites with a radical friend. The remarkable structure of the book contributes to the gradual unfolding of its world; it interleaves two sets of chapters, one describing Shevek’s eye-opening, fish-out-of-water visit to Urras, and the other recounting all the events in Shevek’s life that brought him to that visit. It’s very finely constructed, technically, and the human story of Shevek’s life and evolving understanding (especially played out in his complex relationships with his partner, Takver, and his friend Bedap) a compelling canvas for the book’s broader political-philosophical ideas.
The political exposition comes through the eyes of a loyal Anarrasti believer, Shevek, who visits Urras and sees a tremendously uneven distribution of wealth that keeps an elite class comfortably shielded from the squalor of the people who serve them. As Shevek learns, while the grass may literally be greener on Urras, people aren’t any freer there. But in the course of the book Shevek also comes to understand that the Anarrasti society which he idealizes is faltering, subtly becoming subject in its own way to the human drives for power and status. The true enemy of freedom seems to be stagnation and complacency, coupled with the very human thirst for status and power, which perhaps cannot be overcome regardless of what political structure attempts to contain it.
All of this provides plenty to think about. And as compelling as the political themes of the book are, it’s also a master-class in subtle world-building. The history, ideals, and lifestyle of Anarres are revealed in slowly unfolding layers, through Shevek’s childhood indoctrination (in one sequence, Shevek and some of his schoolmates experiment with imprisoning another boy, because there are no prisons on Anarres and the concept is alien to them); through his experiences with a prickly mentor at his university and on harsh desert work crews; and through his political awakening when he reunites with a radical friend. The remarkable structure of the book contributes to the gradual unfolding of its world; it interleaves two sets of chapters, one describing Shevek’s eye-opening, fish-out-of-water visit to Urras, and the other recounting all the events in Shevek’s life that brought him to that visit. It’s very finely constructed, technically, and the human story of Shevek’s life and evolving understanding (especially played out in his complex relationships with his partner, Takver, and his friend Bedap) a compelling canvas for the book’s broader political-philosophical ideas.