The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula LeGuin

I went through a phase (several years long) in which I liked the books on my bookshelf to be clean and new and unblemished. Then I discovered my now-favorite used book store, and learned the strange satisfaction that comes from handling a well-worn paperback. Recently I began browsing the science fiction section for classic sci-fi. I wouldn’t call myself a science fiction fan, but I’ve picked up a science fiction book here and there, and have been pleasantly surprised to find several well-written and thought-provoking works. Classic sci-fi is ideal for used book store acquisitions. The paperback books with their yellowed pages, creased binding, and campy cover illustrations give my sterile bookshelves a little character, and I’ve been happy to add a couple to my collection.

The most recent one of these secondhand paperbacks to migrate from my to-read shelf to my bookshelf is The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula LeGuin. Published in 1969 and winner of the Hugo and Nebula awards, this book certainly qualifies as a classic of science fiction, and I’ve had it on my shelf since shortly after I read Changing Planes earlier this summer. The Left Hand of Darkness is the third Ursula LeGuin book I have read (I read A Wizard of Earthsea a couple years ago) and her style seems to have a decidedly anthropological bent. The Left Hand of Darkness has very little in the way of story. There is enough narrative to hold the book together, but her purpose is not to tell the story. Rather, she uses the 300-odd pages to explore the social ramifications of a unique geology and biology. The geological question is slightly interesting—what would society look like if the entire habitable range of a planet lay at the coldest extremes of human habitability. The biological question is even more so—how does society change when there is no such thing as gender?

I found the premise extremely interesting. I don’t know that I’d recommend the book to everyone. It is certainly not story-driven, nor is it particularly character-driven, and while I didn’t think it was a hard read, it did require a little patience. There is some shifting back and forth among points of view without notice, and some inconsistency in the passage of time, and some ambiguity in the purpose of the narrative and the motivations of the characters. All of this is entirely consistent with the style of the book (and therefore not a flaw in the story), but it’s a style that takes some getting used to. Still, the description of the world drew me in. I turned each of the 300 pages not because I wanted to know what happened, but because I wanted to know more about this world LeGuin had imagined.