The Le Guin readings, “The Question of Sex” and “Nine Lives” don’t offer a lot narrative action—laser fights, drawn out dramatic rescues, and so forth. If they’re not driven primarily by action sequences, what does drive them? It’s fine to write about just one of the stories rather than both.
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Le Guin’s “Nine Lives” is not driven by action sequences, instead the story has a consistent theme of cloning. In Martin and Pugh’s reports back to Earth, they request additional support, which is provided in the form of ten clones, both male and female, with exactly the same genetic material. These clones work far more efficiently than any small team of individuals working together given that the clones have a perfect symbiotic relationship with one another. The story line describes the clones in depth and the origins of the clones’ existence. Although Le Guin does not write an action narrative, a common science fiction narrative at the time, the readers remain engaged with the story because of their fascination and interest into understanding the behavior of a fictional set of clones. Few authors at the time had written about clones, thus proving that the unique science fictional theme leads to the readers’ curiosity to picture clones and their behaviors.
I found that, in absence of narrative action and daring adventure, there exist many thematic and technical aspects driving “The Question of Sex” forward with great success. There is first the most obvious contributor to the story’s action: the central topic of strange, “ambisexual” aliens that change their gender cyclicly is bizarre and captivates the reader. However, it would not be enough just to give the incredibly fascinating details of this alien species from some far-off planet, given that there is no narration of action or event. The chapter is structured in the form of “field notes”, which could just as easily be written in straight-forward, declarative sentences, or even bullet points. Instead we see in Ong Tot Opong’s “notes” a slew of narrative devices that keeps the story interesting to read.
Most the chapter reads like an internal monologue, filled with back-and-forth deliberation, admittance of doubt, ponderings, and questionings that help the readership establish a connection with the story. More than just wanting to know the “whys” behind these gender-switching aliens, one reads on wanting to hear the narrator’s first-hand experiences with them. We’ve been led on to trust them as an authority (the first page or so is an entirely scientific explanation of the mechanics behind gender fluidity, and they must be a scientist of some sort to be on this exploratory mission and writing field notes), so when the chapter turns to more of the narrator’s disbeliefs and doubts, their thoughts and theories, we as a reader are pulled further into the story.
It is at this moment in LeGuin’s chapter where I perceive the climax of the story. In describing the societal interactions in this seemingly beautiful, genderless world, the narrator/author doesn’t hide their criticism of traditional human gender roles and their negative consequences on society. For example, they comment in a seemingly satirical manner that if human pioneers (with their detrimental gender roles in tact) were to come to this planet, “they will not exist. [On Winter] one is respected and judged only as a human being. It is an appalling experience” (95). In this way the author seems to be creating this alien society which completely dissolves the significance of gender as a utopia, while simultaneously casting our own a distopia.
I think that’s a really compelling part of this chapter and what ultimately ends up driving the plot until the end. Thematically there’s also interesting discussions to be had about the science, and the aliens themselves. I’m curious to hear what others thought about LeGuin’s works in class tomorrow.
I found what drove “The Question of Sex” forward, what kept it engaging in lieu of large narrative action or plot was the fascinating nature and mystery of its concept and the methodic way LeGuinn/the narrator presents it. A society of androgynes with a cyclic sexual cycle is a loaded concept. There are so many interesting changes or deviations from our gendered society that surround this idea. Any reader would have many questions about how their society works, how this crazy androgynous concept functions and what parts of the society we know would it affect. The methodic approach the narrator/author takes in describing this idea, from the individual level, to the pairing level/interpersonal level, to the social level, to the history-shaping level is the perfect way to drive the reader forward. The reader understands that they will have almost all their questions answered by this thorough ordered approach, and intrigued by the idea they plow ahead. Curiosity about the inner workings of this novel idea drives them forward.
Asides from the clarity and generally intriguing plot, particularly in Nine Lives, Le Guin’s pieces are driven by taboo. Written in 1968 and 1969 respectively, the oversexualization of Le Guin’s writing in Nine Lives and The Question of Sex is immediately notable. As overtly sex-focused as these two pieces are, they are far from similar in their execution.
Nine Lives narrates the experiences of Alvaro Guillen Martin and Owen Pugh, workers on the ‘Libra Exploratory Mission Base,’ as they utilize their ‘tendone’ – an individual able to replicate their genetic material ten times. The potential for sexualization comes from that their clone – John Chow – creates an equal number of men and women, the presence and interactions of whom overwhelm Martin and Pugh. This is obvious both in the explicit dialogue of the characters, but also the words Le Guin chooses for narration. To demonstrate the former, Pugh and Martin fixate on whether the clones fornicate with one another, and whether this in ‘incest or masturbation.’ Further, Le Guin explicitly narrates that our protagonists are ‘swamped under the intimacies of… emotional mental sexual interchange,’ emphasizing the significance of sex as a factor affecting the conduct and well-being of our protagonists. Le Guin not only addresses the curiosity of sexual relations between clones, but does so in descriptive detail.
The Question of Sex, chapter seven in The Left Hand of Darkness, is presented as a scientific analysis of the sexual cycle of ambisexual creatures. Le Guin’s writing manages to be provocative whilst remaining thoroughly scientific.
These stories are driven by their strive to address and normalize the social taboo of sex. Discussion of this topic, particularly in such an explicit manner, was uncharacteristic of the time. The sexualization of science fiction beyond simply including a physical description of female sub-characters was bound to make a significant mark. There is also an interesting point to be made of Le Guin’s acclaim. We read in class last week a reading by one Alice Sheldon, who styled herself as James Tiptree so as to ensure her sex did not pose a barrier to the reception of her fantastic writing. Here then is the obvious implication: a female writer must sexualize her writing – and therefore herself- in order to intrigue the readership. Taboo seems to have been currency for the success of Le Guin’s writing, emphasizing just how sexist the genre could be.
In “The Question of Sex”, author Usula Le Guin presents a novel alternative to sexuality – sexual cycles, retracting sexual organs, cyclic sexual drives, and more. Whether the description of Gethenian sexuality is a deliberate and cutting criticism of our sex-based lives is unclear, but Le Guin does expose our society for our emphasis on sexuality. Courting, marriage, monogamy, sexual pronouns (as examples) hold little adaptive value, and could potentially be distractions from humankind’s other pursuits. The narrator herself wonders if this experiment is to determine whether a species “… without sexual potentiality would remain intelligent and capable of culture”
Providing such a peculiar alternative to sex is itself dramatic – perhaps not in a conventional sense. Whether we care to admit it, much of our thoughts and actions revolve around sex. Our culture has been shaped by this simple human desire, so its figurative destruction in The Left hand of Darkness is shocking. Obviously this story does not fit within the confines of typical Sci-Fi stories, but it still has all the same elements.
“Nine Lives” by Ursula Le Guin has little to no action, but instead focuses on a concept that seems strange, not only to the audience, but to the characters within the story. Cloning is a central aspect to the story, as the narrative revolves around Martin and Pugh’s experience with a clone of ten people derived from the same genetics. The introduction of John Chow is a surprise to the reader because the idea of a “tendone” of clones is introduced for the first time when five identical women and five identical men depart from a ship. Despite this introduction not containing violence or action, bringing clones into the story piques the reader’s interest because it is a concept requiring an explanation, or at least some sort of background.
Both Martin’s and the audience’s curiosity is satisfied by the questions that Martin asks of John Chow, in which the clone explains that they cannot hear each other’s thoughts but frequently think in the same way and rarely miscommunicate. Later, when nine of the ten clones die, there are more questions answered by the way that the last remaining clone suffers following the death of his fellow clones. The story is driven by the reader’s curiosity about a world in which clones are funded and somewhat common, despite costing three million dollars to make. In this way Le Guin focuses on the world in which her story takes place, how such a world came to be, and what the implications of the existence of such a world are, rather than focusing on an action-packed adventure.
The excerpt from The Left Hand of Darkness provides an interesting account of a population of creatures that have sexual fluidity, and therefore, reproductive fluidity. The subject matter provides an interesting account of creatures that don’t have a single gender, rather they move between the two cyclically. While interesting, what was far more interesting was the form in which it was presented. The account was highly technical, strikingly similar of a medical research journal. This writing approach was apparent within the first few pages of reading. The effects of this style were largely subconscious at first; however, after thought, one must recognize that the style gives the story credibility due to its fact driven narrative.
One cannot fail to recognize a sense fascination in this recount, yet the integrity of the reporting is without question. The style maintains a fact driven narrative, asking questions of function rather than questions of awe. This starts with an account of physical observation, transitioning into social observation, and then questions function. The flow is poised. The fact driven narrative leads readers to feel as they are being addressed by a scholar (reminiscent of a doctor), which individuals are accustomed to deferring to. This choice of style was highly effective of creating an extraterrestrial and bizarre story, without lasers and fighting because of its academic approach.