A Time of Changes

"Tiempo de cambios" (1971), del estadounidense Robert Silverberg, galardonada con el Premio Nebula, es una novela de ciencia ficción introspectiva y filosófica que explora los confines de la identidad, la represión cultural y la búsqueda de la autenticidad personal. Ambientada en el planeta Borthan, un mundo donde la expresión del "yo" es un tabú cultural y lingüístico, la obra sigue la vida de Kinnall Darival, un príncipe de la provincia de Salla, quien escribe un diario autobiográfico que desafía las normas de su sociedad. En Borthan, la palabra "yo" es considerada obscena, y las referencias personales se ocultan tras eufemismos y construcciones gramaticales impersonales, reflejo de un rígido código moral, el Pacto, que show more exalta la negación del ego en favor de una modestia colectiva.

Kinnall, hijo de un septarca, vive atrapado en una cultura que reprime cualquier forma de intimidad emocional. Su encuentro con Schweiz, un comerciante terrestre, introduce en su vida una droga psicodélica procedente de Sumara Borthan que permite a los usuarios compartir sus conciencias, rompiendo las barreras del aislamiento impuestas por el Pacto. Este descubrimiento desencadena en Kinnall una profunda crisis existencial, llevándole a cuestionar las bases de su sociedad y a embarcarse en una cruzada personal para difundir esta experiencia liberadora, a pesar de las consecuencias sociales y legales que ello conlleva.

"Tiempo de cambios" de Robert Silverberg se erige como una de las obras más introspectivas y literariamente ambiciosas de su prolífica carrera, un texto que trasciende las convenciones de la ciencia ficción para adentrarse en una profunda meditación sobre la identidad, la libertad individual y los costes de desafiar un orden social opresivo. Publicada en 1971, en el apogeo de la contracultura y la revolución psicodélica de los años sesenta, la novela refleja las inquietudes de su tiempo, canalizando la búsqueda de autenticidad y conexión humana frente a estructuras sociales rígidas. Como el propio Silverberg señala en la introducción, la obra es un «registro de este solevantamiento interior, alterado por las metáforas de la ciencia ficción», un eco de su propia transición personal desde la rígida Nueva York de los años de Eisenhower hacia la liberadora California de los setenta.

El núcleo de la novela reside en la construcción de Borthan, un mundo distópico donde la represión del "yo" no es solo una norma social, sino una imposición lingüística que proscribe el uso de la primera persona singular. Silverberg, con su característico talento para la caracterización, utiliza esta premisa para explorar la alienación inherente a una sociedad que niega la subjetividad. La lucha de Kinnall Darival por abrazar su individualidad, simbolizada en su declaración inicial —«Soy Kinnall Darival, y voy a contártelo todo sobre mí»—, es tanto un acto de rebeldía como una afirmación ontológica.

La estructura narrativa, presentada como el diario de Kinnall, es un acierto formal que amplifica la tensión entre la voz del protagonista y las restricciones de su mundo. Silverberg logra que el lector sienta el peso de cada "yo" pronunciado, un acto que, en palabras del propio Kinnall, es «un torrente de desvergüenza». Esta elección estilística, que el autor compara con el desafío de escribir una novela sin la letra "e", no es un mero ejercicio acrobático, sino una representación visceral de la lucha interna de Kinnall: «Mis músculos se rebelan contra mí, y luchan por escribir las palabras al viejo estilo». La prosa, elegante y evocadora, captura tanto la aridez de las Tierras Bajas Abrasadas como la intensidad de las experiencias psicodélicas, descritas con un lirismo que eleva la novela al terreno de la literatura introspectiva: «Nadé en sus resplandecientes profundidades, y la suciedad de mi alma me abandonó: ella me curaba, ella me depuraba».

No obstante, la novela no está exenta de limitaciones. Algunos críticos han señalado que la alegoría de la droga sumarana, aunque efectiva como catalizador narrativo, puede percibirse como un recurso algo obvio para los lectores contemporáneos familiarizados con los tropos de la ciencia ficción de la New Wave. Asimismo, la tragedia de Halum, aunque dramáticamente poderosa, podría interpretarse como una advertencia conservadora contra la transgresión, un matiz que choca con el tono liberador del relato. Sin embargo, estas críticas no empañan la fuerza de la obra, que radica en su capacidad para universalizar la experiencia de Kinnall. Como señala el crítico John Clute, "Tiempo de cambios" es «una de las exploraciones más conmovedoras de Silverberg sobre la condición humana», un testimonio de su habilidad para tejer temas filosóficos en un marco de género.

En última instancia, "Tiempo de cambios" es una obra que desafía al lector a cuestionar las barreras que separan el yo del otro, invitándonos a imaginar un mundo donde, como Kinnall sueña, «todas las almas del género humano se fundieron en la mía». Su mensaje, profundamente humanista, resuena con una vigencia atemporal, consolidando a Silverberg como un maestro de la ciencia ficción que no solo entretiene, sino que también ilumina.

Una novela imprescindible para los amantes de la ciencia ficción literaria, que combina una premisa especulativa audaz con una exploración psicológica y filosófica de primer orden. Su relevancia cultural y su intensidad emocional la convierten en una obra perdurable, merecedora de su Nebula y de un lugar destacado en el canon del género. show less

My first Silverberg. This isn’t science fiction proper, Silverberg only uses an alien planet to illustrate an extreme societal concept – that of denial of self. Given how we’ve gone through the ‘me decade’ and morphed into a ‘me society’, it’s challenging to grasp why a society would choose to mandate a dissolution of the individual. This has both benefits and detriments and Silverberg illustrates that pretty well.

The main character tries to become a force of change in his society. Cast out of his role as 2nd son, he's never quite fit in anywhere, even in the heavily proscribed friendships assigned to him from birth. His whole life is uncomfortable to him and he's on the run a lot. Finally he ends up in a position of show more some power, but it is an illusion. Mentally and emotionally he is unstable, but has no outlet for his anguish. No wonder he turns to the drug that can psychically link him to another human. The disconected nature of his society has made him a beaten, desperate man. He longs for change, but has not the vision or the fortitude to be the catalyst and it is pretty sad to watch him spiral into failure and ignominy.

One thing that is sort of off-putting to me is the fact that supposedly we’ve got this future society with access to technology not using it at all (there are archaic references to ground machines, air machines and telephones still). It’s funny that a lot of future societies are set up as monarchies with agrarian civilizations and old-world politics and rules. I think it’s a two-fold symptom; the information age hadn’t yet occurred when this was written and Silverberg did not have the vision to see how society would change on a dime. Also, I think the agrarian, monarchical society is innately romantic and lends itself to extreme behavior much better than a republican or democratic society, so that’s why it works better as a vehicle for philosophy and symbology driven stories. It does ruin things for me in a sense though. show less

This is a surprisingly different read.

At the very first, I thought it was going to be an alien-Odyssey, a SF treatment of the greek legend, with just a hint of something truly interesting, culturally, in that the entire race, or nearly the entire race, is devoted to self-abnegation.

Imagine, then, instead of relying on the world-building adventure that it began with, it turned into a very distinctive novel of the drug culture that reflects 1971 perfectly, changing Ulysses into Timothy Leary, and instead of being a Lotus Eater, he's become an LSD-like proponent of a drug that allows limited telepathy.

And then the cultural cool-bit now comes to the fore as the full and major plot point, because it is considered evil to say "I", and it's show more even more evil to say "I love you." How much worse is it when you can see right into the heart and mind of someone else who takes the drug with you? Is it a mystical entwining, an exploration of love and understanding? Or is it, as everyone else seems to think, a twisted aberration, an illegal and immoral pastime, or the destruction of everything good and right in the world? The tale of the gods does hold a moral, after all.

Honestly, I've read a lot of great drug-culture books, fiction and non-fiction, but this reads as one of the very best, exploring the highlights and the problems within our own culture and especially of the 60's and 70's. Not only is it a fascinatingly good story in its own right, but it reflects our world in equal measure, serving a dual duty nearly effortlessly.

Just a warning, though, for you readers who might get turned off by free-sex and shameless, almost laughable pornography: The novel has it. Just remember the times. It's all about throwing off the shackles of the accepted norm, after all, whether it's conformity, sexual repression, or opening your mind to new experiences. If you keep that in mind, I'm sure you'll get a kick out of this novel in the spirit it is offered.

Oh, and by the way, it was nominated for '72 Hugo and won the '71 Nebula. Interesting, no? show less

Robert Silverberg is a legend, one of the all-time greats, and among these all-time greats he is probably the most underrated. He has Hugo and Nebula Awards up the wazoo but is relatively unknown compared to the giants of the genre like Asimov, Clarke, and Heinlein, IMHO he belongs up there with them in term of accolades.

A Time of Changes is one of his best novels if his Goodreads page is anything to go by. However, if you have never read anything by Silverberg before you may want to start with something more immediately accessible like [b:Lord Valentine s Castle] or [b:Dying Inside|968902|Dying Inside|Robert Silverberg|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1179887709s/968902.jpg|1660120]. That said A Time of Changes is indeed an extremely good show more and unusual book. If you are in the mood for a thought provoking (but not action packed) book by all means dive straight into this one.

The novel gets off to a slow start and never really shifts into high gear. However, once you immerse into the story, characters and settings the fascination sets in, and the slow pace becomes a kind of virtue.

“this planet was settled by men who had strong religious beliefs, who specifically came here to preserve them, and who took great pains to instill them in their descendants.”

In a nutshell the story is set on a human colony planet called Velada Borthan where intimacy is taboo and self denial is the norm. Their society operates under a Covenant that prohibits opening up one’s feelings except to a designated bondbrother and bondsister. The usage of first person pronouns “I” and “me” is considered obscene. The title of the book refers to the protagonist Kinnall Darival’s discovery of a drug that forms a temporary telepathic link between the drinkers. After his first experience with the drug it becomes clear that the Covenant is preventing people from intimacy, and thereby from understanding and loving each other.

It is actually fairly difficult to synopsize this book briefly and interestingly but it really is a wonderful thought experiment that explores human relationship, religiosity and empathy. A culture where people build walls around themselves to keep everybody at a distance and human interactions are always impersonal has far reaching implications. In some way it is an allegory for impersonal, taciturn human relationships we often encounter in real life.

I hesitate to call A Time of Changes a “difficult book” as the narrative style is straight forward, and even the timeline is almost completely linear (except for the frame story at the beginning and the end) with only one plot stand and point of view. The possible difficulty lies in the unusual theme and slow, contemplative pacing. As usual Robert Silverberg writes beautiful literary prose without lapsing into excessively lyrical passages. There is even some mild humour in the “polite circumlocution” dialogue which is the norm for this planet. For example:

”I should not have said, “One would have a room,” but rather, “Is there a room to be had? ” At a restaurant it is wrong to say, “One will dine on thus and thus,” but rather, “These are the dishes that have been chosen.” And so on and so on, twisting everything into a cumbersome passive form to avoid the sin of acknowledging one’s own existence.”

In writing this review I find that while I love the book I can not sell it very well because it is not a “fun read” as such, unless you enjoy pondering thought experiments. If you read this book and dismiss it as “boring” you may want to pause to examine what you want from a novel. If it is purely entertainment then this may not be the book for you. If you enjoy imagining how our society may operating under very different sets of rules A Time of Changes is endlessly fascinating. The Nebula Award (1971) for Best Novel is well deserved. show less

This book is more of a cultural and philosophical study than anything else, true 'speculative fiction'. On the planet of Borthan, settled by humans a long time ago, people are extremely self-sufficient. So much so, that 'self-baring' or 'self-sharing' between people is forbidden and verbal references to self are taboo. 'I' and 'me' are obscenities. Because of the lack of openness, almost all interpersonal transactions are handled with contracts. There is a strange sort of religion that makes use of 'drainers', basically confessors.

in this setting we meet Darival Kinnall, second son of a ruler of one of the countries. Darival becomes obsessed with this situation and we follow him through the rest of the book. I thought this was quite show more interesting and well written, but by it's nature it is not full of action and I thought there was a bit too much of Darival's sex life. show less

A wild ride, full of the ideas/ideals of its age (1971) - a Christian allegory, a tawdry and self-conscious dalliance, a bit of fluff with religious pretensions. It was a dense read, with the kind of stilted diction sci-fi was rightly mocked for in the 70s, but for all that enjoyable if you know that's the flavor you want. An ending that is satisfyingly open to interpretation.

I have read this novel and mean to tell you about it...

This is the third Silverberg novel I've read after "Roma Eterna" and "Dying Inside." I read it next because I enjoyed Silverberg's other books and to continue my goal of reading 10 Nebula award-winning books in 2024.

This story is a kind of wonderful thoughtful science fiction concerned with the mind, identity and loneliness. Imagine a world where "I" and "me" are obscenities and social connection is practically a crime. What an intriguing 'what if' question to explore. Silverberg writes with great beauty and skill here and he is quickly becoming one of my favorite SF authors.