Book Review: The Left Hand of Darkness
The Left Hand of Darkness is a ground-breaking novel in the award-winning Hainish series by Ursula K. Le Guin.
Winner of the Hugo and Nebula Awards for science-fiction, and the book which established Le Guin as a major player in the genre, The Left Hand of Darkness is a truly fascinating read. The book has strong feminist themes and explores the concept of androgyny against the backdrop of an alien first-contact scenario. I had heard of this book by offhand mention from other authors and was, admittedly, interested because of the cool-sounding title. After reading A Wizard of Earthsea and absolutely falling in love with Le Guin’s writing, I knew I had to read one of her science-fiction outings.
Summary
Genly Ai is a human from Earth, sent to the ice planet Gethen as an envoy for the Ekumen of Known Worlds, a loose alliance of planets. His mission is to persuade the people of Gethen to join the Ekumen, but first must live among them to understand their culture. The Gethenians are ambisexual - they have no fixed sex, becoming temporarily male or female only when in heat once a month (a process known as kemmering) - and this strongly influences almost every aspect of their culture. Genly must navigate the complexities of Gethenian culture, politics, and international relations, in order to fulfil his mission.
Review
As I mentioned above, this is a fascinating read. Not only is it a quality first-contact story, but it’s relentlessly intelligent and beautiful in style. To put it bluntly, I think Le Guin is fast becoming one of my absolute favourite authors, and this is only the second book of hers that I have read!
As with the first book of Earthsea, I find myself dwelling on this story long after finishing it. There’s a groundedness to Le Guin’s writing that makes it all seem like an account of something that’s actually happened. And it doesn’t seem to matter whether it’s set far in the future on another world, or in an imaginary land of magic and dragons. Le Guin’s ability to write deeply human stories really is what makes them so great.
The Left Hand of Darkness seems to be written in a loose epistolary style - that of a series of accounts or journal entries - and I say “loose” because it doesn’t lean as hard into it as something like Bram Stoker’s Dracula, for example. The story starts by making it clear it is Genly Ai’s report to the Ekumen on his mission, and throughout the book we are treated to short chapters of ancient Gethenian folk tales. Further on, Genly’s report alternates with journal entries by the other major character, Estraven. It gives a light feeling of the story having been compiled by Genly to send off to his superiors.
As always, Le Guin’s prose is beautiful, evocative and flows masterfully. The story is written mostly in the first person, past tense. However, there were a couple of early moments where the tense seemed to swap to the present, which was admittedly a little confusing. They didn’t last long though.
The worldbuilding in the book is incredible, with a staggering level of well-researched detail smoothly woven into the narrative. Everything about the Gethenian cultures and the way they have adapted their ways of life to their hostile environment feels so real. The main focus of the book, of course, is the Gethenian sexual cycle as well as the intense political machinations of the two major rival nations. And at its heart, the book is a close examination of the role that sex (both biological, and the act of) plays in society, and how that might change if it were different. As a product of the 1960s, these examinations perhaps don’t quite hold up to modern-day discussions surrounding gender and sex, but that’s not a fault of the book. If anything it shows how far the conversation has come, and as a foundational text - especially for the feminist science-fiction genre - the book and its themes are still important today.
Not only is the human-level detail top-notch, but The Left Hand of Darkness makes it very clear it is firmly in the realm of hard science-fiction. There is no faster-than-light travel in this universe and all journeys taken by the Ekumenical “Not-As-Fast-As-Light” or “NAFAL” ships happen at relativistic speeds and must take account of time-dilation. It’s remarkable that a laser-focussed book such as this can take the time to establish time-dilation as a factor in its interstellar travel, and in a way that makes perfect sense. It really leaves no excuse for the rest of us, especially if we’re writing space-operas without FTL travel. The only concession to less-than-hard science fiction in the book is the ansible. Finding its origin here in Ursula K. Le Guin’s Hainish series universe, the ansible is a device that allows near-instantaneous communication across interstellar distances, and it has since become a fairly common device within the sci-fi genre.
The story itself is a sort of bildungsroman - or coming-of-age story - similar in style to Earthsea, but concerned with the growth of Genly Ai towards a deeper understanding of Gethenian culture in order to fulfil his mission. This journey takes him both physically and metaphorically to the extremes of Gethen. It’s very well told, and does an admirable job as a vehicle for the novel’s weighty themes.
Overall a thoroughly enjoyable read that I would recommend not just for fans of science-fiction, but honestly for anyone, and I, for one, will be continuing my journey through Le Guin’s work with enthusiasm.
