Review: THE LEFT HAND OF DARKNESS

by Ursula Le Guin

“It’s a giant thought experiment and a cracking read about gender.” Reads a quote from Neil Gaiman on the back cover of my copy of the Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin. This is high praise indeed from the mind behind some other pretty giant (and pretty brilliant) thought experiments like American Gods and Good Omens. But what exactly does he mean by “cracking read about gender”?

This certainly appears to be a left-field compliment for a novel that, at first glimpse, seems like a classic Science-Fiction adventure. The set-up is that an envoy, called Genly Ai, has been sent by a distant and highly advanced human government to an isolated planet and tasked with persuading it to join the seemingly intergalactic equivalent of the European Union. So far, so Star Trek-y. The planet, called Winter (or Gethern, as it is known to the inhabitants), is gripped by a torrid ice age, complete with sub-zero temperatures, regular snowfall and vast glacial landscapes that shapes the lives of both the sparsely populated peoples and the envoy throughout the novel.

Beside the weather, the distinctive feature of life on Winter which caught my, and obviously Mr Gaiman’s, interest is the ambisexual nature of its inhabitants. Getherians are both sexless and genderless human beings. There is no concept of male or female nor preestablished societal roles between the sexes. In fact, there’s no word in any of their languages denoting man and woman and no person is predestined for pregnancy at birth. What happens is that they each have a monthly cycle, which, twice monthly, they randomly assume gendered body parts to reproduce

(known as Kemmer). However, outside of Kemmer, there is no sex drive nor reproductive organs that can distinguish them from other Getherians.

Even outwith the frankly quite in-depth description of the Getherian reproductive system, Le Guin sketches out the implications of sexless population into a complex portrait of a genderless society that artfully intersects with the artic environment, into a seamless terrarium of human culture. Through the exploration of her extraordinary and (sometimes) outlandish world, Le Guin forces the reader to see through the eyes of the Getherians who, in their total ambisexuality, see the protagonist’s (and thus our own) sexed society as alien, absurd and ultimately perverted.

This feeds into the broader theme of cultural investigation and exchange that permeates the exactly 300-page novel. It itches the hidden inner Anthropologist inside all of us with the world’s customs, architecture, politics, folktales and even cuisine all vividly illustrated in an artful fashion that never fails to grasp the reader’s interest (a common stumbling block for many speculative fiction writers).

Meanwhile, the plot itself is well-crafted but quite thick, especially for readers new to speculative fiction. The vocabulary becomes quite Dune-esque at times as various unfamiliar places, organisations and character names are added to the mix. Fans may say that it adds to the “stranger in a strange world effect” of the novel (and I’m inclined to agree), but at some points it feels immersion breaking, especially when having to frantically turn back pages to recall the name of the minor territory the characters amble past or the light refreshment the protagonist is offered before an audience with a king. A wee glossary on your bookmark may not go amiss.

Realistically, though, this is only a minor flaw in what is otherwise an absorbing and thought-provoking novel. Le Guin’s masterful world building is certainly a feat to be experienced, not to mention her artful character development that shines worldly emotions through the fantastical and incongruous setting. I would highly recommend reading Left Hand of Darkness during the short but unbusy days of winter to escape into a vivid and challenging world, as the one outside the window slips into our own (but thankfully seasonal) ice age.

[Luke Hills - he/him]