MargaretL wrote:Yes, she makes some wonderful points about patriotism. In the first chapter Estraven calls it not the love of one’s country, but fear of the Other. At the end of the book, Ai wonders: “not for the first time, what patriotism is, what the love of country truly consists of, how that yearning loyalty that had shaken my friend's voice arises: and how so real a love can become, too often, so foolish and vile a bigotry? Where does it go wrong?" A question just as relevant today as it was in 1969 when the book was written.
In the intro to this discussion there was the observation that the genre to which this book belongs “has not aged well”. Certainly true, but to a large extent this book has escaped the moorings of its time. But in the question of patriotism, Le Guin comes down firmly on the side of hopefulness: the Gethens will unite as one people when they join the Ekumen, and this will be (for the most part, though even Ai has some doubts) a Good Thing. She arrives at this conclusion in her other Hainish books, too (none of which achieve the depth or complexity of this one, IMHO).
This hopefulness, alas, is the only thing in the book that strikes me as somewhat dated. I read Stuart Brand and Buckminster Fuller (though not until the 80s), wished for a world without borders and the interconnectedness of all things and all that; the last decade or two have rendered these ideas as naïve, for the time being at least.
Ai is naïve, in many ways. In the first chapter his naiveté takes the form of ignoring his ignorance: he sees animosity between Tibe and Estraven as an ethnologist, but is not interested enough to register that it affects him directly; out of anger, he refuses to ask Estraven what he means at dinner, assuming to understand his motives. Ai has another kind of naiveté, too, which Estraven talks about later, in Ch 11: “his innocence reveals a discipline of knowledge and a largeness of purpose that awes me.” Well, it’s a lovely dream. In 1969 it probably even seemed possible.
There is an interesting scene with the king at the end of the story. Following his journey, both literal and figurative, Ai now sees the king with much greater understanding.
"I sat down across the hearth from Argaven, and saw his face in the light of the flames. He looked unwell, and old. He looked like a woman who has lost her baby, like a man who has lost his son." (pg. 291)
And then when the discussion turns to the now dead Estraven, Le Guin once again returns to this theme of patriotism with Argaven wondering why Estraven has betrayed him.
"You'll tell me that was not betrayal?" [Argaven said.]
"It was not. He knew that, whichever nation first made alliance with the Ekumen, the other would follow soon: as it will . . . He loved his country very dearly, sir, but he did not serve it , or you. He served the master I serve.
"The Ekumen?" said the king, startled.
"No, Mankind."
(pg. 293)
Great book. I just finished it and I could easily read it again. In fact, I probably should make a point of it some day. The sacrifices made by both Ai and Estraven to a larger purpose is inspiring, although I don't think Le Guin ever really helps us understand Ai's motivations very well. We know he has volunteered for this mission, is devoting his life to it. But is it for the Ekumen or is it for himself or for the Gethemians that he does it?
I recently finished Richard Dawkins'
The Selfish Gene and
The Extended Phenotype and I find myself connecting Ai's and Estraven's "largeness of purpose" to the sense of altruism Dawkins suggests can be taken as a conscious choice if we can only rise above our selfish nature and overrule the programming of our genes.