2.5

I'm not sure I would go as far as to say this is a bad book, but I did not enjoy it. LeGuin's prose is very good here, but her plotting is not. The pages run dry. It took some time for me to finish this simply because I was so busy rehydrating.

There is a huge emphasis on world-building in The Left Hand of Darkness, and while I do not fault that aspect (or even any author who is able to construct and develop a world well), when it comes at the cost of everything else, it is a problem. The plot is minimal, spread thin over pages chiefly dedicated to exploring the geography and mythology of the world, and the politics and sexual nature of its inhabitants. The plot in question essentially revolves around a stranger to this world, an envoy, and his attempt to form an alliance between this alien planet and the epic, galactic hegemony he represents. While intriguing at first, his mission never really evolves and there seems to be little significance to any of the characters we meet beyond the first chapter. You could switch off for a good two thirds of the book and still have a good grasp of the central narrative, character motivations and general aspects of the world. Very little changes, and new information is sparse once we pass the halfway point and transition into a "journey home" type narrative.

The book alternates between the perspectives of two characters, which is a little confusing and not entirely needed. The wall between them setup by misunderstanding, miscommunication, different cultural perspectives and gender is probably the most prominent thing in the book, but for something that puts so much focus on characters and relationship, it is incredibly dull.

I'm not sure if I have accurately observed the thematic thrust, but feminism and Taoism are prominent in much of LeGuin's writing and I can see that here. The concept of a male human trying to connect with a race of beings neither male nor female (or both) seems to promote both gender equality and present an element of dualism. The fact that the book flip-flops between the perspective of two characters, and that one character even goes as close to the nose as to explain Taosim would suggest this also. The title, The Left Hand of Darkness, is in reference to Yin and Yang as well - light being the "left hand of darkness"; what we would normally see as a contrasting opposite is in fact an extension of the other. The two are meant to be joined in a mutually beneficial relationship; one cannot exist without the other. I don't ascribe to this worldview, but it often works well in fantasy.

So what else is there to say? At the end of the day, I did not find the story interesting, I did not find the characters interesting, I did not find the world interesting. The prose is nice, there are some good ideas, but it's not very well developed. Its dry, political nature and the bare-bones plot was unattractive to me, and it felt especially unfocused in the second half. It didn't get me to invest, and at a certain point I gave up trying to. ( )

Like many LeGuin books, it's subtle at times, a little overbearing at times, and very beautiful, personal, and touching. There's a reason this is one of her most famous books: it's thoughtful and well-done. ( )

Hoo-boy, here we go. Here's my review of this book, although I will say now that it won't be the best review to read if you're seriously considering reading this book because I am heavily biased.

I picked this book up because it was the December read in an online book community. It is completely safe to say that I would not have ever thought of reading this book had it not been for the book club. This book is completely out of my reading comfort zone (in terms of genre and language level), and I have, never once in my life, read anything that even closely resembles the contents of this book.

From the very start of the book, I was struggling. Tremendously. The words used were more difficult than I'm used to reading, the plot was confusing, and the world building was difficult to wrap my head around. I have so many notes and tabs in this book because of how many times I'd have to write down how confused I was, then go back after reading more to understand.

Regarding the book itself, I felt like it just dragged on and on until around the 2/3 mark. From then on, it felt like bam, bam, bam, action non-stop. For the first 2/3 of the book, I truly did feel like the characters were pretty dry and unremarkable.

[Spoilers in this paragraph] But that last 1/3 was what saved the book, at least for me personally. The relationship between Genly and Estraven was confusing at first, but it warmed up to me after a while. Towards the end I was absolutely engrossed into the plot and was rooting for the two to make it back safely. And yes, the ending absolutely destroyed me. It felt like a betrayal - I had just gotten into the story and the characters, and this is what you do, Ursula?! My heart is SHATTERED, my dude.

Overall, this book completely challenged me and I struggled through every page. I've never annotated in a book as much as I have with this one. And yet, here I am, giving it four stars. Despite the torturous hours I spent trying to understand this book, I actually found it to be quite therapeutic and rewarding to finally get to the end and make the revelations I did.

This book is quite literally the reason why I will be adding a challenge of reading ten "challenging" books in 2023, because I feel like reading this has made me a better, more analytical reader. Also, I now totally understand it when people say they have a hate/love relationship with a book, because that is how I'm feeling right now.

Now I'm going to go sob into my pillow and read short and easy books for the next 4-5 business days before my brain can handle books like this again. ( )

This is about Genry, a man sent to a planet to make first contact with a the humans there, who have evolved to be genderless except for brief periods when they are fertile and take on physical gender characteristics. The plot of the book is about Genry's attempts to convince the people of the planet to join a multi-planet alliance, and about the political machinations of different cultures as they try to figure out what to do with Genry. But the story is also about gender, and the difficulties Genry has in thinking about people without gender.

This book is both more relevant than ever, and also showing its age more than ever right now. As parts of our culture are becoming more accepting of non-binary genders, and other parts of our culture are fighting that change, it is interesting to read about a culture that is completely free of the gender binary. Genry's reaction is sometimes shockingly sexist: he sees weak people as feminine, smart people as masculine, and never really questions those assumptions.

Like a lot of sci-fi of its era, this book can be a little tedious, but there is a lot going on here. Le Guin's worldbuilding is fascinating and thorough: not only does this world have very different sexuality, but Le Guin has created political systems, mythologies, histories, and entirely different attitudes about prophecy. This isn't a particularly easy read, but it is well worth the effort. ( )

Le Guin has a berth in the science fiction hall of fame, largely on the strength of novels like Left Hand. In her introduction, she acknowledges that all science fiction is allegorical, and that hers is especially so. It's up to the reader to unravel the implications for our own world.

She does not condescend to the reader through exposition. Instead, we are dropped into the world much like the protagonist, Genry Ai, is as envoy from the interplanetary alliance Ekumen. It takes most of 300 pages to really get your bearings - there is a lot of Winter-specific terminology that is not always fully explained.

So it ends up being both a challenging and impressionist reading experience. I think all alien encounter stories are post-colonial in nature, going back to War of the Worlds. The Ekumen is a more enlightened form of first contact, sending only one envoy with a backup plan. The androgynous people on Winter are a sly commentary on the way gender influences politics and war on Earth. ( )