![]() ![]() (The former is primary in The Left Hand of Darkness, the latter in The Dispossessed.) I’m reminded that both books were written in the era of “The personal is the poltical”, and it shows - in important and useful ways. In both books, Le Guin is great on sexual politics, in several senses of that phrase: she shows the ways that the political order is shaped by sexual experience, and sexual experience by the political order. (I wonder if Virginia Woolf’s famous comment in A Room of One’s Own that women’s books are likely to be shorter than those of men is relevant here?) By contrast, on this reading The Left Hand of Darkness struck me as a genuine masterpiece, perfectly calibrated and balanced, and even more moving than I had remembered. A shame, in a way, given that so many of her themes invite it. ![]() The Dispossessed would have been better as a longer and more sweeping book, something more Tolstoyan in scope, perhaps with more of the history of the Odonian movement - but then, Le Guin really doesn’t do Tolstoyan sweep. ![]() ![]() The latter, which has always been my favorite among her novels, revealed some structural flaws this time around: I really don’t think she brings Shevek’s story to as successful a conclusion as it deserves. I’ve recently re-read Ursula Le Guin’s most famous novels, The Left Hand of Darkness (1969) and The Dispossessed (1974) - the former for the first time in, yeeesh, I don’t want to think about how long. ![]()
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